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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/32953-8.txt b/32953-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eb7e554 --- /dev/null +++ b/32953-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5150 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Quest of the Golden Ape, by Ivar Jorgensen and Adam Chase + +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: Quest of the Golden Ape + +Author: Ivar Jorgensen + Adam Chase + +Release Date: June 23, 2010 [EBook #32953] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEST OF THE GOLDEN APE *** + + + + +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 Amazing Stories January, February, March + 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. + + The Table of Contents is not part of the original magazines + + + [Illustration: They were bent upon rapine and slaughter--and what + greater prize than the Queen herself?] + + + QUEST OF THE GOLDEN APE + + + By IVAR JORGENSEN and ADAM CHASE + + + _How could this man awaken with no past--no childhood--no + recollection except of a vague world of terror from which + his mother cried out for vengeance and the slaughter of his + own people stood as a monument of infamy?_ + + * * * * * + + + + + CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + I Mansion of Mystery + II The Great Clock of Tarth + III The Man in the Cavern + IV John Pride's Story + V Question Upon Question + VI On the Plains of Ofrid + VII The White God + VIII The Brown Virgin + IX In Custody + X The Road to Nadia + XI On the Ice Fields of Nadia + XII Volna the Beautiful + XIII The Journey of No Return + XIV Land Beyond the Stars + XV The Golden Ape + XVI The Raging Beast + XVII The Prison Without Bars + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER I + +_Mansion of Mystery_ + + +In a secluded section of a certain eastern state which must remain +nameless, one may leave the main highway and travel up a winding road +around tortuous bends and under huge scowling trees, into wooded +country. + +Upon a certain night--the date of which must remain vague--there came +a man who faced and was not turned back by a series of psychological +barriers along this road which made it more impregnable than a steel +wall. These barriers, which had kept out a hundred years of +curiosity-seekers until that certain night, were forged by the +scientific magic of a genius on a planet far beyond the sun.... + +The man who boldly followed his headlights up the road was of middle +age with calm, honest eyes and a firm mouth indicating bargains made +in his name would be kept. He pushed on, feeling the subtle force of +the psychological powers against him but resisting because he vaguely +understood them. + +He left his car presently and raised his hand to touch the hard +outline of a small book he carried in his breast pocket and with the +gesture his determination hardened. He set his jaw firmly, snapped on +the flashlight he had taken from the dash of his convertible and moved +on up the road. + +His firm, brisk steps soon brought him to its end, a great iron gate, +its lock and hinges rusted tight under the patient hand of Time. It +was high and spiked and too dangerous for climbing. But someone had +smashed the lock with a heavy instrument and had applied force until +the rusted hinges gave and the gate stood partially open. From the +look of the metal, this could have been done recently--even in the +past few minutes. + + * * * * * + +The man entered and found a flagstone pathway. He followed this for a +time with the aid of his flashlight. Then he stopped and raised the +beam. + +It revealed the outline of a great stone mansion, its myriad windows +like black, sightless eyes, its silent bulk telling of long solitude, +its tongueless voice whispering: _Go away, stranger. Only peril and +misfortune await you here._ + +But I am not exactly a stranger, the man told himself, approaching the +door and half hoping to find the scowling panel locked. + +But it was not locked. The ponderous knob turned under his hand. The +panel moved back silently. The man gripped his flashlight and stepped +inside. + +The knowledge that he was no longer alone came as a shock. It was +brought to him by the sound of labored breathing and he flashed the +light about frantically trying to locate the source of the harsh +sound. Then the bright circle picked out a huddled form on the floor +nearby. The man moved forward instantly and went to his knees. + +He was looking into an incredibly ancient face. The skin was so deeply +lined as to hang in folds around the sunken eyes. The mouth was but a +toothless maw and the body so shrunken as to seem incapable of +clinging to life. The voice was a harsh whisper. + +"Thank God you have come. I am dying. The opening of the gate took all +my remaining strength." + +"You have been waiting for me?" + +"I have been waiting out the years--striving to keep life in my body +until the moment of destiny. I wanted to see _him_. I wanted to be +there when the door to his resting place opens and he comes forth to +right the terrible wrongs that have been done our people." + +The strength of the ancient one was ebbing fast. The words he spoke +had been an effort. The kneeling man said, "I don't understand all +this." + +"That matters not. It is important only that you keep the bargain made +long ago with your sire, and that you are here. Someone must be with +_him_ at the awakening." + +The newcomer again touched the book in his pocket. "I came because our +word had been given--" + +The dying man picked feebly at his sleeve. "Please! You must go below! +The great clock has measured the years. Soon it tolls the moment. Soon +a thundering on the Plains of Ofrid will herald the new age--the +Fighting Age--and a new day will dawn." + +While the visitor held his frail shoulders, the dying man gasped and +said, "Hasten! Hurry to the vault below! Would that I could go with +you, but that is not to be." + +And then the visitor realized he was holding a corpse in his arms. He +laid it gently down and did as he had been directed to do. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +_The Great Clock of Tarth_ + + +The Plains of Ofrid on the planet Tarth stretched flat and monotonous +as far as the eye could reach, a gently waving ocean of soft, +knee-high grass where herds of wild stads grazed and bright-hued birds +vied in brilliance with the flaming sun. + +From the dark Abarian Forests to the Ice Fields of Nadia, the plain +stretched unbroken except for the tall, gray tower in its exact center +and it was toward this tower that various groups of Tarthans were now +moving. + +Every nation on the planet was represented in greater or lesser +number. The slim, erect Nadians in their flat-bottomed air cars that +could hang motionless in space or skim the surface of the planet at a +thousand jeks an hour. The grim-faced Abarians, tall and finely +muscled on their powerful stads, their jeweled uniforms flashing back +the glory of the heavens. The Utalians, those chameleon men of Tarth, +their skins now the exact color of the grasses across which they rode, +thus causing their stads to appear unmounted and unguided. + +All the nations of Tarth were represented, drawn toward the tower by a +century-old legend, a legend which Retoc the Abarian clarified as he +rode at the head of his own proud group. + +He waved a hand, indicating the vast plain and spoke to Hultax, his +second in command, saying, "Little would one think that this flat, +empty land was once the site of a vast and powerful nation. One of the +greatest upon all Tarth!" A smile of cruelty and satisfaction played +upon his handsome features as he surveyed the plain. + +"Aye," Hultax replied. "The realm of the Ofridians. Truly they were a +great nation." + +"But we Abarians were greater," Retoc snapped. "We not only defeated +them but we leveled their land until not one stone stood upon +another." + +"All save the tower," Hultax said. "No weapon known could so much as +scratch its surface." + + * * * * * + +A new voice cut in. "Quite true. Portox's scientific skill was too +great for you." Both Abarians turned quickly to scowl at the newcomer, +Bontarc of Nadia, who had swung close in his one-man car and was +hovering by their side. + +Retoc's hand moved toward the hilt of his long whip-like sword, driven +there by the look of contempt in Bontarc's eyes. But Retoc hesitated. +A formidable squadron of Bontarc's Nadian fighting men hovered nearby +and the Abarian had no taste for a battle in which the odds were close +to even. + +"We defeated the Ofridians fairly," he said. + +"And slaughtered them fairly? Cut down the men and women and children +alike until the entire nation was obliterated?" + +The systematic annihilation had taken place a century before when +Bontarc had been but a child and Retoc a young man. Karnod, Retoc's +father, now dead, had planned the war that defeated the Ofridians, his +winning card having been spies in the court of Evalla, Queen of Ofrid. +Karnod had been fatally wounded during the last battle and had +delegated to his son the task of annihilating the Ofridians and +levelling their nation. This task, Retoc accepted with relish, +reserving for himself the pleasure of slaying Queen Evalla. Details of +the torture to which Retoc subjected the beautiful Evalla were +whispered over the planet and it was said the sadistic Retoc had taken +photographs of the Queen in her agony to enjoy in later years. + +It had been the scientific ability of Portox of Ofrid that had +engendered the Abarian hatred and jealousy in the first place. Portox +used his science for the good of all on the planet Tarth, but when +Karnod, Lord of Abaria, struck, no other nation came to Ofrid's aid. +Then it was too late, because Abaria's military might greatened as a +result of the Ofridian defeat and only an alliance of all other +nations could have conquered them. + +Ironically, Portox had never been captured. + +Now as the tall gray tower came into view, Bontarc's mind was filled +with thoughts of Portox, the Ofridian wizard. It was said that Portox +had been able to travel through space to other planets that were known +to exist, that he had left Tarth and found safety somewhere across +space, first building his tower which would never be destroyed; that a +great clock within it was measuring off one hundred years--the time on +the planet Tarth of an infant's development into manhood--and that at +the end of that span the clock would toll and there would come forth a +man to avenge the slaughter of the Ofridians. + +Bontarc turned suddenly upon the dour Retoc. "Tell me," he said, "is +there any truth to the legend that the clock in the tower will toll +the end of one hundred years?" + +"None whatever," the sadistic Abarian snapped. "A rumor passed from +the lips of one old woman to another." + +Bontarc smiled. "Then why are you here? The hundred years are up +today." + +Retoc's hand moved toward his whip-sword. "Are you calling me a liar?" + + * * * * * + +Bontarc watched alertly as the blade came partly from its scabbard. +"If we fight we may miss the tolling of the clock," he said evenly. + +With an oath, Retoc pushed the sword back into its scabbard and put +sharp heels to his stad's flanks. The animal screamed indignantly and +rocketed ahead. Bontarc smiled and turned his car back toward his own +group. + +And now they were assembled and waiting, the curious of the planet +Tarth. Would the clock toll as it was rumored Portox had said? Would +an avenger come forth to challenge Retoc and his Abarian hordes? + +There was not much time left. Swiftly the clock ticked off the +remaining moments and the end of one hundred years was at hand. +Silence settled over the assembled Tarthans. + +Then a great sound boomed over the plains; a single ringing peal that +rose majestically into the air, reverberated across the empty land +that once had been the site of a thriving, prosperous nation. The +first part of the legend had been fulfilled. + +Then, suddenly, chaos reigned. With a great thundering that shook the +ground upon which they stood, the gray tower exploded in crimson +glory; a great mushrooming blossom of red fire erupted skyward hurling +the assembled Tarthans to the ground where they lay in numbed stupor. + +The thunderous report echoed across the plain ten thousand times +louder than the tolling of the clock. But aside from the initial +dulling shock, no Tarthan was injured because the crushing power rose +upward. + +There was an expression of mute wonder on Bontarc's face. And he +thought: We have not seen the end of this. It is only the beginning. +But the beginning of what? Only Portox could have known. And Portox +was--where? + +Bontarc started his car and moved across the plain sensing cosmic +events but not knowing.... + +Not knowing that the sound of the tolling clock had gone with more +than the speed of light across the void, had been flung arrow-straight +to a brooding mansion in the heart of a thick forest upon another +planet; to the door of a cavern deep in the rock beneath the mansion. + +That even now the lock of this door had responded to the electronic +impulse and the huge panel was swinging slowly open. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +_The Man in the Cavern_ + + +As the sound of the tolling clock died out across the Plains of Ofrid, +a man opened his eyes on the planet far away and saw for the first +time the place in which he had spent one hundred years. + +He awoke with neither fright nor surprise but rather with a sense of +wonder. He arose slowly from the great bed upon which he had lain and +allowed his attention to roam about the strange place in which he +found himself. + +In the wall opposite the bed there was set a full length mirror and as +the man turned he saw himself for the first time; a tall, +broadly-muscled figure of heroic proportions. Completely naked, his +body was reflected as masculine perfection in every detail. + +For a few moments, the man stared at the body as though it belonged to +someone else. Then he spoke musingly. "You did your work well, Portox, +my friend." + +The sound of his own voice startled him but not so much so as the +content of the words. A baffled expression touched his handsome face. +Who was Portox? And what work had he done? What place was this--and +for that matter, who was he himself, this naked figure which looked +back at him from the glittering mirror? + +The questions were annoying because he felt that he knew the answers. +Yet they would not come within reach of his conscious mind. + +He had little time to ponder this enigma however because at that +moment he became aware of a second presence in the room. He turned. A +man stood just inside the open door. + +The naked one stared at the other with an interest that left no room +for self-consciousness nor shame. "Who are you?" he asked. + +"My name is John Pride," the man answered. He was a man of erect +bearing and though there was wonder and surprise in his voice he bore +himself with a quiet dignity. "And now," he added, "may I ask you the +same question?" + + * * * * * + +The naked man looked down at his own body and for the first time +seemed conscious of its nudity. He glanced around the room and saw a +robe of royal purple lying across a chair by the bed. He stepped over +and lifted the robe and put it on. As he was tying the rich purple +cord around his waist he looked frankly back at John Pride and said, +"I do not know. I honestly do not know." + +John Pride said, "I have wondered what I would find in this +cavern--wondered through the years. Only in my wildest fancies did I +tell myself that a fellow human--or even a living creature--awaited me +here. But now I find this is true." + +The younger man regarded his visitor with a calmness that belied any +wariness between them. John Pride noted this with admiration and +respect. The young man said, "Won't you be seated?" and when his guest +was comfortable, regarded him with a smile. "Perhaps there are some +things we should talk over." + +"Perhaps there are. You say you do not know your own name?" + +"That only begins to sum up my ignorance. I am not only unaware of my +identity but I haven't the faintest notion of what this place +is--where it is--or how I came here." + +It was John Pride's turn to stare. While doing so, he analyzed the +younger man keenly. He saw honesty and an inner warmth that attracted +him. There was something almost godlike in the clean lines of the body +he had seen and in the face. These things coupled with what he already +knew, intrigued him mightily and he resolved to approach this strange +affair with an open mind and not play the role of the unbelieving +cynic. It was time to go ahead. + + * * * * * + +John Pride said, "First, are you aware that there is another in this +mansion--or was?" + +"I did not even know this was a mansion. It seems only one room." + +"It is an enormous structure set deep in the forest." + +"This other one--?" + +"A very old man. He died as I arrived here tonight." + +"You do not know his name or how came he here?" + +"I have a vague idea." + +The young man's dazzling blue eyes narrowed in thought. "A while ago +you said you have wondered through the years as to what you would find +in this room. That indicates you were aware of its existence." + +"True. Perhaps at this point I had better tell you the complete +story--as much of it as I know." + +"I would be in your debt." + +"No, I will merely be discharging the last of a very old obligation." + +With that, John Pride took from his pocket a small leather covered +book. He handled it gently, almost with affection, and said, "This was +my father's notebook. In it, is an account of this remarkable affair, +put down by my great grandfather and handed down through the line. +When my father died he placed it in my hand saying it entailed an +obligation both business and personal and it was my obligation as well +as his. + +"I have read the account of what transpired many times and with your +permission I will put it into my own words. Then, when I am done, I +will give you the book and the affair will be over so far as I and my +family are concerned." + +John Pride had settled back in his chair and was just ready to begin +when the young man held up a sudden hand. "Just one moment--please," +he said, and a look of concentration came upon his face. Then he went +on and his words took the form of a rhyme: + + "An ape, a boar, a stallion, + A land beyond the stars. + A virgin's feast, a raging beast, + A prison without bars." + +He flushed and added: "I don't know why I was possessed to recite that +doggerel at just this moment but there is something strange about it. +Strange in that I have a feeling it was taught to me at some long +distant time in the past. I sense that it is very important to +whatever destiny awaits me. Yet I know not who taught me the verse nor +what it means." + +"That verse is inscribed in this book and I believe I know how it +entered your mind and memory. I believe too, that I understand how you +are able to converse with me though you know nothing of this land or +even this room," John Pride said quietly. + +"Then please tell me!" + +"I think it better that I start at the beginning rather than give you +the story piece-meal. That way, your mind will be better able to +assimilate and to judge." + +"I await your pleasure," the young man said with impatience he strove +to conceal. + +"Very well," John Pride said, his eyes growing vague with a far-away +look. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +_John Pride's Story_ + + +"I am a member," John Pride began, "of a firm called Pride, Conroy, +and Wilson. We are a very old firm of private bankers with offices in +Wall Street. Both Conroy and Wilson died before I was born, leaving no +issue, so the company has been controlled by a Pride for many years. + +"This affair in which we are interested had its inception one hundred +years ago. At that time, a man came to see my great grandfather in his +office. He was a most remarkable man and gained my grandfather's +respect and confidence from the very first. He never stated from +whence he came, being more interested in the future than in the past. +He put up at a New York City hotel and my great grandfather knew there +were three in his party; the man himself, another man and a woman both +somewhat older than he. + +"At one time when my great grandfather visited them in their hotel +suite, he saw the woman fleetingly as she was leaving the room. She +was carrying something that he thought could have been an infant +snuggled in a blanket. He could not be sure however and he did not ask +questions. + +"The man was interested in obtaining a place of abode, a place that +had to possess certain definite qualifications. First, it had to be +built upon solid rock and set in the most secluded location possible. + +"Second, it had to be so completely free of legal involvements that +when he secured title, no possible claim of another could ever be +taken seriously enough to even cause the property to be visited. In +short, the strange man said, details relevant to the property must +integrate to a point where no one would visit it for one hundred +years." + +At this place in his narrative, John Pride stopped a moment to rest +his voice. After a pause, the young man in the purple robe inquired, +"Why do you smile?" + +"At the recollection. My great grandfather had just a white +elephant--" + +"A white elephant?" + +"Merely a descriptive term. A place that had been built before the +Revolution but which even at that early time had been bypassed by the +trend of progress until it was completely isolated. No one wanted it. +No one would ever want it so far as my great grandfather could judge." + +"Except this strange man you speak of." + +"Precisely. He was delighted with the place and when my great +grandfather pointed out that even with the location and the high +surrounding wall there was no guarantee that wandering adventurers +might not move in and take possession at some distant date, the man +smiled cryptically and said he would see to it that that did not +occur." + + * * * * * + +The young man was scowling. "I know that man. He is somewhere back in +my mind, but he will not come forward." + +John Pride regarded his listener for a moment and then went on. "The +man seemed in ample funds and paid for the property with a giant ruby +the like of which my great grandfather had never before set eyes on. + +"But the affair was far from ended. The man moved his _ménage_ into +the mansion saying he would call upon my great grandfather later. + + * * * * * + +"All the legal formalities had been of course taken care of--an +indisputable deed, guaranteed by the strongest trust company in the +land. But that was not enough. + +"After a few weeks, during which time the man had inquired of my great +grandfather where certain materials could be obtained, he returned to +the old gentleman's office with the most startling request of all. + +"He said that he had set in motion a procedure that would terminate in +exactly one hundred years from a given moment and that he wished to +retain grandfather's firm as trust agents in relation to that +procedure. The duties of the firm would be negligible during the +hundred-year period. My great grandfather and his issue were merely to +remain completely away from the property which was certainly a simple +thing to do. + +"But knowledge of what had taken place must be passed down to his son +and in case the latter did not survive the one hundred years, to his +son's son. + +"At this point my great grandfather interposed reality in the form of +a question: 'I have a son but suppose he is so inconsiderate as to not +duplicate with a male heir?' + +"The man smiled and said he was sure that would not be the case. He +was right, but whether it was a gamble on his part or whether he spoke +from a knowledge beyond us, we never knew. + +"But regardless--at the end of one hundred years the surviving issue +was, by sacred trust, to be present in this mansion. The door of a +vault beneath it would open and the trustee was to enter and deliver +therein a written account of the series of events leading up to that +moment. + +"In payment for this service, the man insisted upon presenting my +great grandfather with jewels the value of which on a yearly basis +transcended all our other income combined. My great grandfather +demurred but the man said nothing brightens memory so much as +material gain and he did not want the agreement to be forgotten." + +"What happened to the man?" the young listener asked. + +John Pride shook his head sadly. "We never knew. When all the +arrangements were made, he came again to the office, thanked my great +sire for his services, and was never seen again." + +"He must have given you his name." + +John Pride frowned. "He used a name of course but there was the +impression of its not being his true one. The book mentions this. The +name he used was C. D. Bram." + +"Portox!" the young man cried suddenly. + +"What did you say?" + +"Portox. The name is back in my mind. I used it as I awoke." + +"A strange name." + +"And stranger still is the fact that I know nothing of it--wait!" The +young man's handsome features strained as he concentrated with all his +power. Sweat stood out on his forehead. But then a look of +disappointment came into his face and his broad shoulders sagged. "No. +The knowledge is somewhere back in my mind but I cannot capture it." + +John Pride was about to speak but the young man stayed him with a +sudden intense look. "One thing however is very clear to me." + +"And that is--?" + +"The face of my mother." + +"The woman who held you in her arms in the hotel suite?" + +"No, I do not think so. But I see a face clearly in my mind. A sad and +beautiful face. There is a marked resemblance between it and what I +see in that mirror. She is the most beautiful woman who ever lived and +I yearn to find her and take her in my arms." + +"I hope you succeed." + + * * * * * + +A tragic light appeared in the young man's eyes. "But where is she? +How can I find her? Why did she leave me in this place?" + +"I do not have the answers to those questions. But I have a theory +concerning you and the elapsed years." + +"Tell me!" + +John Pride spoke firmly but with obvious awe. "I think you were +brought here as an infant for some reason known only to the one who +called himself C. D. Bram." + +"Or Portox." + +"Perhaps. I think you were placed in that bed and left there for one +hundred years." + +"But--" + +"Consider. That door has never been opened. There is certainly no +other exit to this cavern." + +"And I have no recollection of ever having lived before," the young +man said slowly. + +"Yet you can converse with me. You obviously have been given an +education." + +"But how?" + +"It is known that knowledge can be injected into the subconscious +while the receiver sleeps. I'm sure the man you insist upon calling +Portox was aware of this--this and perhaps other scientific miracles. +Who are we to say that you were not nourished by some means beyond our +knowledge?" + +But that investigation was never to be made because as John Pride +extended his hand to touch the box it suddenly burst into a glow and +he withdrew his fingers quickly. + +Before the younger man could answer a glowing point of light sprang +into being and brightened and a wave of searing heat erupted from the +walls of the room, searing the eyes of John Pride and leaving him to +grope helplessly as in the heart of a furnace. The younger man was +beyond his reach. Blinding pain caused him to reel. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +_Question Upon Question_ + + +John Pride opened his eyes as a moan escaped his lips. The haze +cleared and he found himself lying upon a cool stone floor looking up +into the concerned face of the younger man. "What happened?" John +Pride asked feebly. He tried to refocus. + +"I don't know except that the heat of that fire was upon us with such +swiftness that we were almost incapacitated. I picked you up and +started walking. Fortunately I moved in the direction of the door. +Otherwise we would have been doomed." + +"I am in your debt." + +"No more so than I in yours." + +"Did you extinguish the fire?" + +"It burned out of its own accord. But only after the cave was +completely gutted. There is nothing left in there but the bare rock +walls." + +John Pride sat up with quick concern. "The book!" + +"It is gone." The young man looked ruefully down at his own naked +body. "Gone--together with my precious robe." + +"That can easily be replaced along with other raiment but the book--I +was supposed to deliver it--" + +"--to the cavern. You did that, my friend. It was not through you that +the fire consumed it. You have dispatched your obligation. Let your +mind be at ease." + +John Pride got to his feet. He shook his head in the negative. "No. A +portion of my obligation still exists. Fortunately I did not bring +forth the second and last item I was to place in the cavern." + +"The second item?" + +"Yes, and I believe the most important." + + * * * * * + +With that, Pride took from his pocket a small box wrapped in heavy +material and sealed and resealed with a sort of rubberized wax. + +"This," he said. "I know not what is in the box nor I think, did my +father, my grandfather, nor my great grandfather before me. We have +been given to understand that its delivery to the cavern was the most +important single duty of the trust. So I now place it in your hands, +praying that this act fulfills the long-standing obligation of my +family." + +The younger man had salvaged a portion of his robe, a length of +material that went over his shoulders and draped skimpily down the +sides of his body. This did nothing whatever in the way of covering +his nudity but rather accentuated and added to it. + +He took the box and was scanning it with great interest when the +excitement and strenuous action of the preceding few minutes again +took grip upon John Pride's comparatively less rugged physique. + +His eyes closed and he began sinking again to the floor whereupon the +younger man slipped the box hastily in the pocket that had not burned +away from his robe and caught John Pride in his arms. + +He lifted the elder man and carried him up from the mansion caverns +and into the great hall that swept forward to the main entrance. As he +walked, bearing the heavy burden as though it were but a mere feather, +he was of two minds. + +One mind entertained concern for his new-found friend and the other +was occupied with interest in these new and strange surroundings. + +Dawn had broken over the forest and in a brooding light within the +great hall, he saw the withered body of the dead man on the floor. He +paused for a moment and then went out across the flagstone porch and +into the open air. + +He marveled at the green expanse of forest that reared in majesty +about him. He drew in deep gusts of the cool air and found it good. He +smiled. + +Then John Pride stirred in his arms and showed signs of returning +consciousness. The young man laid the financier on the soft grass and +watched until his eyes opened. + +"Are you feeling better? Is there anything I can do?" + +John Pride smiled feebly as he raised himself with the younger man's +aid. "I'm afraid this has been more strenuous than I bargained for. If +I'd known what would transpire I would have kept myself in better +condition." + +"But you feel better now?" + +"Yes. If you will be so good as to help me to my car, I'll be all +right." + +"Certainly. Your car--?" + +"A means of conveyance that will take me back to the city. It stands +but a few yards down the road beyond the gate." + +A short time later, the two men stood at the place that was to be the +parting of their ways. Both sensed this and Pride held out his hand. +The younger man grasped it firmly. + +"Godspeed to you, my friend," John Pride said. "I fear I can help you +no further but if there is ever a time when my services are needed, I +will be waiting for your command." + +"Thank you. Whatever befalls me I will always remember you as the +first friend I ever set eyes upon in this world." + +With that, John Pride turned his car and drove off down the winding +road. As he left, the younger man realized the older man had said +nothing of the dead ancient in the great hall but realized it was +because of the strain Pride had suffered. The man was still somewhat +dazed from the shock of the fire. + + * * * * * + +He turned and walked slowly back toward the mansion until he stood +again in the great front yard. There he stopped and stood looking up +at the sun as it topped the hill east of the mansion. + +"Who am I?" he asked himself. "Why was I given knowledge but not all +the knowledge necessary to intelligently pursue my destiny? In my +heart there is a certainty that I am an educated man. I am aware of +the fact that there are different groups of people who speak different +languages and I know I will be able to converse with any I meet. + +"I know that there are planets and stars and moons and I know what is +to be known of the universe. But where is the exact personal knowledge +that would help me in my dealings with the future? Why was I left here +carefully tended and provided for these hundred years only to be +hurled suddenly upon my own?" + +He walked slowly into the great hall and knelt beside the still figure +on the floor. A feeling of compassion stirred him but there was no +warmth of recognition, no personal sorrow as a result of the ancient's +death. + +"Have I ever seen you before?" he asked softly. "Were you--Portox?" + +The dead one did not answer and the young man lifted him and took him +from the hall and buried him. He could find no tools to dig the soil +but located a hole that had once been a shallow well. He dropped the +body therein and followed it with stones until the hole was filled. He +did this with no sense of callousness but rather with an impersonal +reverence he instinctively felt but could not analyze. + +[Illustration: The cryptic verse had become a visual symbol in Bram's +mind.] + +Returning slowly to the front yard, he pondered the dimension of +time. How, he wondered, could John Pride's line have gone through +three sires to John Pride, the last of the males, while he himself lay +for one hundred years to emerge in his obvious prime? Or perhaps even +on the near side of his prime. + + * * * * * + +He pondered this and other points until his mind grew weary from +unanswered questions and turned to things of the moment. + +"I know not what my destiny is but at least I am able to have a name. +What shall it be?" + +He remembered the one Portox had used--C. D. Bram. "Bram," he said. +"That I like." But the C. D. meant nothing to him and Bram seemed +somehow incomplete. + +"John Price had a name of two parts," he said, "so why should I not +have the same?" + +He looked about him and a breeze in the green branches above seemed to +whisper the answer. He heard and considered, then smiled to himself, +raised his voice. + +"I christen myself Bram Forest, to be known from this moment on by +that name." + +Suddenly his smile deepened, then laughter welled from his great +chest; a laughter arising from the sheer joy of this new thing called +living into which he had stepped. + +Now he stretched his arms over his head, palms upward as though +supplicating to some far-off deity. He leaped high in the air testing +his muscles and finding them good. + +Then he was running, naked and golden off across the open hill. He ran +until his huge chest pounded with delicious pain as his lungs labored +for air. Finally he dropped to the ground and lay spread-eagled +looking up at the sky. + +He laughed long and joyously. + +He lay for a long time thus, then suddenly remembered the box John +Pride had given him. But the scanty garment had dropped from his +shoulders so he sprang to his feet and ran back until he discovered +it. + +The box was still there. He examined it curiously turning it over and +over in his hands. The seal was stubborn but it finally gave and he +peeled off the heavy wrapping. A small white box came to light. + +This he opened to stand frowning at what it contained. An odd +instrument of some sort--a flat disc about two inches in diameter and +possibly a quarter of an inch thick. Both faces were of shining, +crystalline metal reflecting back anything that was imaged upon them. + +Two short metal straps appended from opposite sides of the queer +instrument, one of which held a buckle at its end. He held the shining +disc to his ear but there was no sound that he could detect. + +Frustrated he looked again into the box. It appeared to be empty. But +no. As he was about to fling it away, he noted that what appeared to +be its inner bottom was in reality a second flat package that fitted +perfectly into the receptacle. He shook it free and found it to be +merely a flat rectangle wrapped tightly in white paper. + + * * * * * + +He was about to rip the paper with his thumbnail when his attention +switched suddenly to the shining disc. He had envisioned a use for it; +or at least a place for which it seemed constructed. + +He tested his theory and found the straps fit snugly and perfectly +around his wrist. He pondered which wrist to place it on and decided +the right one would be appropriate. Quickly, he snapped the buckle +into its hasp and then held forth his arm to admire the brightness of +the queer device. + +If he had expected anything to happen, he was disappointed and he +stood there wondering what use was to be found from such a seemingly +useless device. + +After a while he unbuckled the disc and moved it to his left wrist. +Perhaps it would look better there. Again he raised his arm to admire +it and had stood thus for some moments when he became conscious of an +odd sickness in the pit of his stomach. + +He did not associate this with the disc at all and immediately forgot +the thing, giving his whole attention to the uncomfortable feeling +that had come upon him. + +The sickness increased in intensity and he bent down, doubling over +his abdomen as the nausea became a pain. As he sank to his knees, he +noted the disc had changed, had taken on an odd, transparent glow. + +There had to be a connection between his illness and the abominable +device and he clawed at the buckle, seeking to loosen it and hurl the +thing away. + +But there was no time. The pain sharpened and a black cloud dimmed his +sight. He clawed feebly at the buckle and then his numbed fingers +weakened, fell away from it. + +The darkness increased and seemed to lift him from the ground upon +which he lay. It clawed at his throat, entered his nostrils like a +malignant force. + +As his consciousness faded a single thought was in his mind: _Born but +to live a few brief moments and die again. What sense is there to such +a farce as this? Born--but--to die--again. Portox! Help me! It can't +be--There must be some help!_ + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +_On the Plains of Ofrid_ + + +Jlomec the Nadian guided his air car across the grassy plains of Ofrid +but a scant few feet above the tops of the waving grasses. + +It was a fine day and the Nadian was taking full advantage of it. One +of a race of proud and noble fighting men, Jlomec was an exception to +the rule in that he was a dreamer rather than a fighter, a thinker +rather than a doer, a poet rather than a military strategist. + +Thus, his mind dwelt upon the historic incident of the previous days +when, standing beside his brother, Bontarc, he had watched the gray +tower of Portox the Ofridian explode into a fine cloud of dust. + +And it was characteristic of the gentle Jlomec that his mind was more +occupied with the romantic aspect of the incident than the violent. He +thought of the poem, the bit of doggerel carved in the foundation +stone of the tower. For a century all Tarthans had puzzled over the +verse put there by Portox so long ago: + + An ape, a boar, a stallion, + A land beyond the stars, + A virgin's feast, a raging beast, + A prison without bars. + +Had it any meaning? Jlomec wondered. A thousand different +interpretations had been put upon the verse over the years, but no one +knew for sure. + +That it had something to do with the slaughter of the Ofridians, +Jlomec was sure. But what? + +As he ruminated thus, Jlomec's attention was caught by moving figures +some ten jeks to the south. He knew this to be the location of one of +the great wells that dotted the Plains of Ofrid. + +In the times before the great massacre, these wells had been located +in the hearts of the fine Ofridian cities of which the Abarians stood +in great envy. These wells gushed endlessly of cool crystal water +which kept the fabulous hanging gardens of Ofrid multicolored and +beautiful. + +But all that was in the past. The Ofridians had been slain to a man +and their cities leveled until not a stone stood upon a stone. Now +lonely grasses grew where once glittered the results of Portox's great +scientific genius. Now there were only round steel doors in the ground +to mark the locations of the great Ofridian wells. + +These thoughts occupied Jlomec's mind as he turned his car and coursed +it in the direction of the well. The figures came clearly into view, +causing Jlomec to frown in puzzlement. + +What manner of people were these? There were a half dozen of them--two +men, three females, and one babe-in-arms. Jlomec got the impression +that--though they were erect and finely formed--that they were of +short stature. + +But now he realized he had got this impression only by their +comparison to the seventh figure by the well. He knew at a glance that +this seventh was an Abarian warrior, exceptionally tall and wearing +the look of grim cruelty so characteristic of his race. + +Jlomec paid the Abarian scant heed however, so engrossed was he in +studying the strange half-dozen. Their skins were richly browned and +they wore almost no clothing. + +Who could they be? Jlomec wondered, and from whence had they come? +Mightily intrigued, he moved forward until he came within earshot of +the party. Then, for reason of the words he heard spoken, he halted +his air car and frowned. + + * * * * * + +The Abarian, he recognized as the famed Retoc himself. A fierce stad +pawed the ground nearby indicating how the tall, sneering commander of +the Abarians had arrived at this spot. Retoc was known to roam the +Plains of Ofrid at times, still savoring the destruction he and his +sire, Harnod, had accomplished; pleasuring himself with memories of +bodies piled high, of bloody swords and helpless cries of the dying. + +Or was it for some other reason that Retoc roamed the plains? Was it a +nameless fear that drove him there? Did the accusing face of Portox +the Ofridian genius still hang balefully in his memory? Had Portox +acquainted the Abarian devil with knowledge that he alone carried in +his guilty heart? And did that knowledge generate a fear that Retoc +the Abarian could not rid himself of? + +At any rate, he now stood between the brown people and the Ofridian +well, enjoying a useless cruelty as was his custom. + +The leader of the group extended his hands in supplication and said, +"We only ask water, sire. A small thing, but long have we waited to +quench our thirst." + +Retoc said, "What manner of people are you?" + +"Harmless ones. See? We are unarmed and peaceful." + +"That does not answer my question. Tell me who you are and from whence +you came. Then we will see whether my fancy dictates that you shall +have water from this well." + +Indignation and rage dimmed Jlomec's better judgment. He had glided in +beyond range of Retoc's vision and now he leaped from his car and drew +his wandlike whip-sword. "Is there no drop of common decency or +compassion left in you, Retoc, that you do this thing to helpless +people?" + +The Abarian whirled with alarm not knowing what force might be arrayed +against him. But when he saw the lone Jlomec, his composure returned +and his self-assurance again took charge. Had the newcomer been +Bontarc, the dreamy Jlomec's skillful brother, Retoc the Abarian would +have conducted himself differently. But as it was, he sneered at the +gentle Nadian and asked, "What business of this is yours, Jlomec?" + +"Injustice is everyone's business. These people, whoever they are, ask +only to drink." Jlomec's eyes blazed. "And drink they shall, Abarian!" + + * * * * * + +Retoc's handsome eyes glowed. No doubt as to the outcome of this +contest. He drew his own sword and whipped its supple length through +the air. "Since you choose to champion this scum, let's get on with +it." + +Had Jlomec's indignation not been of a quality to blind him to +consequences, he would have perhaps hesitated. But hot with this +injustice, he whipped his own sword and leaped at Retoc. + +The latter, with a grim smile of confidence, parried the thrust with +ease and manipulated his own whip-sword with a skill which few +fighting men on the planet Tarth could have equalled. + +The weapons were strange ones by Earth standards and would have +probably been considered impractical. They were a good six feet in +length with the supple resiliency of a fly casting rod. The trick of +using them effectively lay in controlling the sway and whip of the +long thin blades by skillful use of the wrist. An expert Tarthan +swordsman could parry a thrust with a lightning whip of his blade, arc +the singing steel in the opposite direction and perhaps bring his +opponent down with a thrust that would enter between his shoulder +blades, the sword still arced to describe half a circle. + + * * * * * + +In essence, this favorite weapon of the Tarthans was a combination of +whip and sword and combat was a matter of thrusting at angles far +wider than could be achieved with a stiff blade. A good Tarthan +swordsman would have been an excellent billiard player on Earth for +his knowledge of workable angles was of necessity supreme. + +Retoc the Abarian was a master at this swordplay. Enjoying himself +hugely because there was little risk, he toyed with the less skillful +Nadian. He did not intend to kill Jlomec, fearing the wrath of +Bontarc. He meant only to teach the stupid Nadian a lesson he would +not forget. + +But as his blade sang and stung, its needle point darting in like the +fangs of a snake's head, and as Jlomec's clumsy blade sought +desperately to parry, Retoc's blood lust rose to the fore. The joy of +dealing death to the helpless was upon him and with a swift thrust he +allowed his blade to enter Jlomec's unprotected back just above the +kidney, to streak upward through his body and pierce his heart. + +Frightened at what he had done he jerked the blade free. Its entwined +force whirled Jlomec in a complete circle from which he fell limply, +dead before he hit the ground. + +Retoc stood scowling at the fallen Nadian, his dripping blade rising +and falling gently in the breeze as he held it extended. The Abarian's +eyes darted to the group of brown-skinned folk, his anger centering +upon them as he nimbly switched the blame for this foul murder from +his own shoulders to theirs. If they had not been at the well-- + +He was ready to extend his slaughter in their direction, to wipe out +the lot of them, when he paused, his scowl deepening. There was fear +and awe upon their faces but they were not regarding either Retoc or +his fallen adversary. + +Their eyes were turned in another direction and Retoc sent his own +glance after theirs. His eyes held upon what he saw. A naked man. But +such a man as he had never before seen on all the planet Tarth. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +_The White God_ + + +Bram Forest returned to consciousness and realized the black nausea of +his previous moments had vanished. All traces of the sickness were +gone as he opened his eyes, his mind intent upon the small flat +package that had dropped from the box in which he had found the +strange disc-like instrument. But the package was not within reach. + +This caused only a small part of his bewilderment however. His +attention was riveted mainly upon the tableaux being enacted before +him. A group of people, almost as naked as himself, deeply browned of +skin, stood huddled nearby. + +Almost as though for the entertainment of these, two grim and +uniformed warriors were facing each other on the level turf before the +strange circular ground-entrance beside which Bram Forest found +himself. + +The two warriors possessed strange supple swords which they +manipulated with much skill. At least, one of the warriors did. The +other seemed clumsy in comparison but there was no hint of cowardice +in his manner. + +Upon closer inspection the two warriors who had seemed of a cut at +first glance were quite dissimilar. The one of greater skill was dark +and possessed of a cruel mouth and venomous dark eyes. The other was +slim and fair with contemptuous blue eyes. He fought with an erect +stiffness in his shoulders which was both awkward and dignified at the +same time. + +The sympathy of Bram Forest went out instinctively to the fair one but +the dark, sinister swordsman held his attention. There was something +naggingly familiar about the dark one's cruel face. A tantalizing +familiarity that bemused Bram Forest even as the singing swords +thrust and parried with that of the dark warrior always on the +offensive and the other fighter striving more for self-preservation +than for aggressiveness. + +Where, Bram Forest wondered, had he seen the dark one before? Nowhere, +of course. Any previous contact was impossible. Or was it? Dared he, +Bram Forest, call anything impossible after what had already occurred? + +Bram Forest glanced down and realized he had been removing the disc +from his left wrist and placing it on his right. He had committed the +act instinctively, in the same manner he breathed and moved and his +mind went back momentarily to the two tubes he had found in his ears +when he awoke in the cavern back on Earth. + +Back on Earth? How did he know he was not still on that planet? I've +got to stop questioning these things I possess knowledge of but know +not why. I must take them at face value and without wonder. Otherwise +I shall spend all my years in conflict with my own mind. + +At that moment, the dark warrior's whip-sword whined in a skillful arc +and entered the body of the fair one. A moan of sympathy arose from +the waiting group as the defeated warrior sank to the ground, his face +strained in agony and fast becoming a death-mask. + +The dark warrior stepped back, a cruel sneer of satisfaction gleaming +in his eyes. Bram Forest, sickened by the unequal contest rose up from +where he lay and moved forward. This drew the attention of both the +group and the victorious warrior and the effect was electric. + +The huddled observers reacted with a mixture of consternation, awe, +and fear that would have been comic under less tense circumstances. +They dropped as one to their knees. They placed their foreheads upon +the ground. A concerted moan escaped them that far transcended in +depth and feeling the one with which they had reacted to the death of +the fair warrior. + + * * * * * + +In a language Bram Forest was completely familiar with, their voices +sounded a chant of fear and awe. "The white god has come! The white +god has come! The white god has come!" + +Bram Forest scarcely considered them. He was advancing upon the dark +warrior with the clean, stalking movements of a tiger, his great +shoulders low, his magnificent legs tense for the death spring. + +The dark one was frozen from surprise. From whence had this naked +white creature erupted? He stood stiff from sudden fear and +uncertainty a moment too long and the hands of the avenger were upon +him. The fingers of those hands were like steel talons driving deep +into his throat and in his panicked mind he looked upon the face of +death and found it horrible. He was being driven down to the ground, +lower and lower in abject submission by this strange and terrible +manifestation the brown-skinned ones had called a white god. + +The dark warrior's mind raced and in his terrorized desperation a +native cunning sprang to his aid. Using every ounce of his remaining +strength, he forced words up from his tortured throat. "Would you kill +an unarmed man?" + +The words touched a responsive chord in Bram Forest's mind. The craven +spoke aptly. By killing him thus, was not Bram Forest doing the same +thing for which he had condemned the other? + +Bram Forest straightened and hurled the cringing figure from him. +"Then defend yourself, swine!" he cried and seized up the dead +warrior's shining whip sword. + +The dark one sought means of escape but he feared turning from this +avenger as much as facing him. He could only play for time. + +Rising, he retrieved his own sword and faced the other with his +expression of fear not one whit abated. The man of the steel hands +whipped the sword experimentally and the dark one was struck by a ray +of hope. The other's actions with the blade were as clumsy as had been +those of Jlomec the Nadian. Perhaps all was not lost. + + * * * * * + +The dark one gripped his blade and moved forward in the customary +crouch of the Tarthan fighting man. Then elation welled up within him +as the answering posture of the other revealed him as knowing nothing +whatever of the whip-sword's use. The dark one's smile returned. God +or not, the skill of this one with the ancient weapon of Tarth was +even less than that of the pathetic Jlomec. + +The dark warrior parried a clumsy thrust with ease and whipped his +blade around to harass the other's exposed back. "You are a fool!" he +said, "whatever else you may be. As you die, give thought to the fact +that you join a large company. Those who have faced the greatest +swordsman of Tarth and fallen ignobly before his blade." + +With that the dark one whipped his blade home and spun his adversary +expertly in order to discover the exact point of entrance of the +blade. His aim was true. + +It was just a trifle low but the other fell heavily and the dark +warrior withdrew his blade and wiped it uneasily. His nervousness +sprang from fear. If one of these so-called gods had appeared, why not +two, or four, or a dozen? The Tarthan swordsman, well up on the +principles of discretion, felt a sudden urge to be quit of this +locality. + +It was indeed a disconcerting place. Brown folk, the identity and +origin of which he knew not. A white creature with steel hands +appearing from nowhere. What would the next manifestation be? + +The dark warrior moved swiftly toward his waiting stad. He mounted and +rode away and not until the figures about the well were tiny spots +almost beyond range of his vision, did he again breathe easily. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +_The Brown Virgin_ + + +Bram Forest moved from unconscious into a dark half-world of pain and +frustration. He felt his flame-seared body to be hanging upon the edge +of a black abyss into which he could neither fall nor draw away from. + +At times, it seemed, gentle hands reached out to explore but were +without the strength to draw him back from the perilous precipice upon +which he hung. + +There was an endless time of balance in this dark half-world and then +the thick blackness faded to a gray, the precipice seemed to draw away +of its own volition, and the pain within him lessened. + +He opened his eyes. + +He was lying on a bed of soft, cool moss in a semi-dark cavern with +the sound of tinkling water in the distance. He lay staring at the +ceiling for a long time, wondering into what manner of place he had +come and how. Then his keen ears caught the sound of breathing other +than his own; a soft breathing that fell gently upon his senses and +calmed rather than alerted him. + +He turned his head and saw a beautiful, naked brown-skinned girl +kneeling nearby but beyond his reach. He was struck first by the +beauty of her face and form and then by the fact that she was not as +completely brown as his first impression had given him to believe. Her +breasts and loins were of pure white and droplets of shining water ran +down her body. + +She was in the act of replacing a sort of leather harness upon her +person and Bram Forest realized she had just returned from bathing at +whatever place the unseen water gurgled and laughed and that she was +now dressing herself. + +He held his peace until the act was completed, not wishing to +embarrass her by making his consciousness known while she was nude. + +After a few moments, the harness was in place and she rose to stand +erect and shake out her dark shining hair. Bram Forest chose this time +to speak. "I do not know who you are, but I am obviously in your debt. +My gratitude." + +The girl reacted like a startled fawn and drew back several paces. +"You have regained consciousness?" + +"It seems so. Where is this place and how came I here?" + +"We brought you." + +Bram Forest's brow furrowed in thought. "Oh, yes. Now I remember. +There were a group of people such as you at the place I tried to fight +the dark swordsman with his own weapons." Bram Forest chuckled +ruefully. "It seems I did not fare so well." + +"When we discovered you were not our god, the others wanted to leave +you there to die but I resisted this as being inhuman and made them +bring you here." + +"Where are the rest?" + +"They have returned." + +"Returned whence?" + +The girl lowered her beautiful head sadly. "That I cannot tell you." + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest smiled. "Be not so sad. The fact that you prefer to keep +the information to yourself is no reason for near-tears." + +"I am not sad for that reason, sire." + +"Then why?" + +"Because you asked the question and are even more surely therefore, +not our god." + +Bram Forest was deeply curious and half-amused at the trend of this +conversation. "Tell me this, then. Why does my asking the question +eliminate all possibility of my being your god?" + +"Because if you were the god we seek and yearn for, you would not have +to ask where my people went. You would know." + +"Instead of clarifying the situation," Bram Forest mused, "each +question sends me deeper and deeper into a mental labyrinth." + +"We risked our lives in going to the place you found us. It was +forbidden to credit the ancient legend of our people. Therefore--" + +"What legend?" + +"That upon this day and at that place our god would appear to deliver +us." + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest, now desperately seeking a question that would clarify +rather than further befuddle, held up his hand. "Wait. If you expected +a god to appear and I arrived on schedule, how can you be so sure that +I am not he?" + +"We thought so when you advanced upon the hideous Abarian and took his +throat in your great hands. But when you not only allowed him to live +but also suffered him to take up his whip-sword and come within an +eyelash of killing you, we knew you were not our god." + +Bram Forest nodded with understanding. "I can see now how stupid that +act was. Certainly not a manner in which a genuine god would conduct +himself." He glanced at the girl and smiled. "Please come closer that +I may see you better." + +She moved her head in the negative, reluctantly, Bram Forest thought, +and replied, "If you were our god I would gladly place myself in your +power to do with me as you would, but as you are mortal, I must remain +away from you." + +Bram Forest frowned. "Again things get murky." + +"I am a virgin," the beautiful girl explained simply and with no +self-consciousness whatever. "I must remain so until my time is +ordained. If I lost my virginity, even through violation that I +resist, I would immediately be delivered into the Golden Ape." + +Bram Forest came upright, causing the girl to retreat a step further +in alarm. "The Golden Ape, did you say?" + +"Yes." + +"And you are a virgin--" + +This last was a statement rather than a question as Bram Forest sank +back, his eyes misty with thought. "An ape, a boar, a stallion--" he +pondered. "A virgin's feast--" + +The girl eyed him with concern. "Are you sure that your wound has not +caused--" + +"It is not that," he said, switching his mind back to things of the +moment. "I'm just wondering--might you tell me your name without +breaking any rules of reticence?" + + * * * * * + +"I am Ylia," she said with a childlike solemnity that touched Bram +Forest. + +"And does Ylia never smile?" + +It seemed to him she made an effort to do this but was so unfamiliar +with the expression that she could not manage it. + +He extended a hand, not disconcerted that she did not come close and +take it. He said, "Ylia, I would not again ask a question you did not +wish to answer before. But I am mightily puzzled about the life you +must have led--about that manner of males you have had contact with. +They are certainly a miserable lot if a female of their race must look +to her virtue every waking moment. + +"As for me, Ylia--and please believe--I would no more touch you in +desire than I would knowingly injure a child. You are safe in my +presence as in the most guarded room of a nunnery." + +If he expected gratitude or a pat on the back for his nobility, he was +rudely surprised. Ylia straightened, her young breasts protruding +gracefully and if she did not react with anger, her face mirrored +something close to it. + +"Then I am not desirable?" + +Bram Forest blinked. "I did not say that. You are one of the fairest I +have ever set eyes upon." + +This puzzled Ylia completely. "Then in the name of the Golden Ape, +why--?" + +Bram Forest raised his hand with a gesture of both interruption and +surrender. "Please! Let us pursue this subject no further. The waters +grow deep and I suspect quicksand at their bottom. There are questions +in my mind. Allow me to bring them forth with the understanding that +you do not have to answer any you do not wish to." + +It was evident that Ylia's mind was also a bag of conundrums relative +to this late candidate for godhood who had insulted her desirability +and yet complimented her upon it at the same time. She moved forward +and sat gracefully down near the moss resting place of her patient. + +Bram Forest was aware of her tenseness. She was like a beautiful +animal ready to spring away at the first sign of hostile movement on +his part. But he also got the impression that coming within reach of +his arms thrilled her. He believed this even while knowing that she +would have fought like a tigress against any advance upon his part. + +He said, "Ylia, you are indeed a strange child. You remained here +after your people left and brought me back from the brink of death +even with the fear that I would rise up and violate you as soon as I +acquired the strength to do so. Your thought processes are difficult +to understand." + +Ylia lowered her eyes. "You wished to ask some questions, sire." + +"My name is Bram Forest. The _sire_ ill-becomes you." + +"Bram--Forest," she murmured experimentally. Then she raised her eyes +and there dawned upon her face the most brilliant of smiles. Her look +was one of both dignity and gratitude. "You do me much honor, Bram +Forest!" + +"Honor? I fail to understand." + +Ylia's eyes glowed proudly. "Why, you treat me with such respect that +I could be even Volna herself!" + +"And who is this Volna?" + + * * * * * + +Ylia was startled at this strange man's ignorance. "Why, everyone on +Tarth knows of Volna, Princess of Nadia, sister of Bontarc, who is +Prince of Nadia and ruler of that great nation. She is the most +exquisitely beautiful woman ever to be born on Tarth." + +"Fancy that," Bram Forest said with a lack of enthusiasm that proved +marked disinterest. "I'm afraid I've never had the pleasure of the +lady's acquaintance, nor of her illustrious brother, either." + +Ylia lowered her eyes in sadness. "She was also the sister of Jlomec." + +"And who, pray is Jlomec?" + +"I thought you knew since you tried to avenge his death. He was the +Nadian the cruel Abarian Retoc slew under your very eyes." + +"I'm sorry to hear that," Bram Forest said. But the cowardly death had +been accomplished and Bram Forest's mind did not dwell upon it as he +could not see where it affected him one way or another. + +"Ylia," he said, "take it as a supposition that I was born this very +moment and know nothing of this world or its customs. With that in +mind, tell me of it--the things you would tell a wondering child." + +She glanced at him strangely. "I will tell you all that I am not bound +to hold secret." + +"I would not wish to know more." + +The beautiful Ylia leaned forward, so preoccupied with the task she +had set herself that all her reserve and wariness left her. Her action +brought her lowered head close to Bram Forest's face and the sweet +smell of her newly washed and shining hair was in his nostrils. Then +he also became preoccupied with the map Ylia was drawing on the floor +of the cavern. + +Long they sat thus, Ylia enjoying her task and Bram Forest's facile +mind drawing in each syllable she spoke and committing it to memory. + +Finally the sun lowered and the interior of the cavern darkened until +they could no longer see each other. The most important conviction +Bram Forest arrived at from Ylia's discourse was indeed a startling +one. He was certain that this Tarth was a twin planet to Earth of +which there was complete knowledge in his mind. He could hardly escape +the fact that Tarth swung in an orbit exactly opposite to that of its +more familiar counterpart, thus remaining invisible from it. + +This conviction came to him through several things Ylia said and it +was buttressed by a bit of Tarthan mythology she chanced to mention. +The legend told of a flame-god, obviously the sun, which stood forth +in its wrath one long-distant day and hurled two great stones at a +demon who came from far away bent upon torment. This last Bram Forest +thought, was perhaps a comet of great size that tore both worlds from +the sun and set them upon their orbits. The existence of the +mythological legend indicated too, that civilization on Tarth was not +backward or at least had not been in ages gone. + +In the more exact realm, Bram Forest learned that Tarth was far less +watery than its invisible sister, scarcely half its surface consisting +of ocean. It had two ice caps at the poles, known as the Outer Reaches +and an equator termed the Inner Belt. + + * * * * * + +There were no isolated continents according to Ylia's map, all the dry +surfaces being connected by wide passages of land through the +continuous ocean. + +Ylia's description of the people interested Bram Forest most +intensely. On Tarth, he learned, there was no association of nations, +each mistrusting the others in a world where a state of continuous war +at some point of the globe was an accepted state of affairs which no +one sought to ameliorate. + +Ylia herself was hazy upon the description and number of the nations. +She thought some two hundred existed but only the most important could +she describe. + + * * * * * + +The Abarians were the most successfully warlike, fearing only the +Nadians to the south. This because though the Nadians were not +aggressive and even treated other lesser nations in a kindly fashion, +they possessed an inherent fighting skill and a power potential that +had not been tested in recallable history. Though they had not fought +for centuries, their potential had not lessened because such a folly +would have been considered tantamount to national suicide on Tarth. + +There were also the Utalians that Bram Forest visualized as some sort +of lizard men for the reason that they possessed the defensive +characteristics of the chameleon. There was also another intriguing +race, no member of which Ylia had ever seen. She referred to them as +the Twin People of Coom, an area near the north Outer Reach. Bram +Forest speculated upon what manner of people they would be and it came +to him that the evolutionary processes on Tarth had not corresponded +to those of Earth, where all members of the human race evolved into +practically the same form. + +Then a name came into Bram Forest's mind; a name that rose out of that +mysterious well of knowledge in his subconscious; a well he could not +explain but had been forced to accept. He no longer questioned it. + +"Tell me of the Ofridians." + +Ylia started as though he had slapped her. The deep brown of her +beautiful face paled somewhat and her eyes grew very sad. + +Bram Forest saw the sadness by the light of the moon, that had risen +and was sending wan light in through the cavern's entrance. He only +sensed the paleness from the tremor of Ylia's voice. "It grows late. I +must go and bring food. Your strength must be nurtured and +greatened." + +With that, she hurried off in the direction of the sounding water, +leaving Bram Forest both bewildered and intrigued. Why had she reacted +so violently to his question? And for that matter, why had he been +able to ask the question in the first place? By what process did he +know the name _Ofrid_ and that it designated a nation on Tarth, +without knowing of that nation and already possessing the knowledge +for which he had begged the patient and beautiful Ylia? + +Then he remembered that he had resolved not to wonder about these +things--and at the same instant, remembered something else. + +The small, flat package that had fallen from the box back on Earth. It +had been his first thought upon regaining consciousness near the +Ofridian well but it had been pushed from his mind by subsequent +events. + +How long ago had that been? He tried to assess the passage of time but +failed. The only indication of its length was the fact that he bore no +wound where the Abarian's blade had entered his body. That pointed to +a long span of unconsciousness but perhaps there were contributing +factors. + + * * * * * + +He had sensed that the mysterious Ylia had at her command something +that had healed him very swiftly but he had no proof of this. + +At any rate, he had to retrieve the package if possible. But would it +be possible? Granted the strange disc had brought him somehow from +Earth to Tarth, would it repeat the process in the opposite direction? + +He resolved to find out and began unbuckling the disc from its place +on his right wrist. + +As he did this a sound manifested outside the cavern but he was so +intent upon his task that he gave little note. Quickly, he strapped +the disc into its potent position on his left wrist. Then he sat +tensely awaiting the reaction. + +As he waited, the sound without became so pronounced he could no +longer ignore it. He raised his head and saw a tall, sinister form +outlined against the moonlight. He was unable to distinguish the +features, but the outline told a sickening truth. Also the drawn +whip-sword spoke eloquently of who this intruder was. + +The Abarian of the Ofridian well in search of prey. The cowardly +assassin who would now enter and find a defenseless man and a +beautiful girl who would set him aflame with lust. + +Rage threw a red curtain over Bram Forest's eyes as he struggled up to +meet the intruder. But the latter never saw him because at that moment +the now-familiar nausea seized Bram Forest's vitals, doubling him +over. + +And when the Abarian had advanced into the cavern, he found only an +empty bed of moss, Bram Forest having been snatched up and whirled +into darkness by the relentless hand of time put into terrifying +motion. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +_In Custody_ + + +Bram Forest regained consciousness upon a grassy slope across which +slanted the rays of a setting sun. The same sun that had warmed him +upon the planet Tarth--of this he was certain. + +He arose and glanced about quickly, realizing--while he was sure he +had returned to Earth--that he could be many miles from the mysterious +mansion under which he had spent one hundred years. + +[Illustration: Screaming, Ylia offered her own body in defense of her +loved one.] + +At first his heart sank because the terrain was not at all familiar. +Then it rose again as he saw the tower of the gray mansion pushing +somberly above the line of the forest top. He stood for a moment, +orienting himself with the tower the center of his calculations. Then +he moved out of the glade toward his right. + +But he had gone scarcely ten feet into the wooded area when his +sharpened instincts gave him quick warning and he dropped like a stone +and lay still. + +The sound of footsteps greatened until their echo came loud in his +ears and a man passed not ten feet from his outstretched hands. + +The man wore the blue uniform and smart cap of a state trooper and he +was on the alert but not so much so as to detect the silent Bram +Forest. + +The latter, with the first moment he had had to give thought to +himself since he had awakened in the cavern on the Plains of Ofrid, +realized suddenly that he was no longer naked. He had of course been +vaguely aware of this before but now he gave it his attention and +realized what had happened. He focused on past events. + + * * * * * + +During his time of unconsciousness from the treacherous Abarian's +blade thrust, the beautiful Ylia had garbed him in the brilliant +uniform of the slain Nadian, Jlomec. This uniform was both colorful +and practical but it did nothing to either hide or encumber the great +muscles of his chest and arms, thighs. + +The State Trooper passed on his way and Bram Forest wondered what he +was doing about the old mansion. But this did not occupy his thoughts +for long. As soon as the way was clear, he moved like a great cat +through the underbrush toward the spot from whence he had made his +exodus to the planet Tarth. As he skirted the last glade, he prayed +that the second article in the box containing the fabulous disc he had +now switched to his right wrist, still lay where he had carelessly +dropped it. + +He came to the edge of the open field and warily surveyed the terrain. +No one was in sight. He strained his ears for the sound of any +approaching footsteps and heard nothing. He sprang swiftly into the +open and ran across the field. + +It was there--the flat white package--exactly where he had dropped it +that first morning. He swept it up, intent upon returning to the +shelter of the forest. + +But his interest in what lay beneath the white paper wrapping had +grown to such a point of intensity that his footsteps lagged, his +attention riveted upon the tantalizing thing, and he came to a full +stop mid-field while his strong fingers tore at the wrappings. + +The white parchment came away and Bram Forest stared at what was +revealed. Then a strange and terrifying change came over him. His +handsome features contorted as every drop of blood was drained from +his face. His great frame shook as with an illness and such a +demoniacal rage came over him as few people in this or any other world +have seen. + +Now a great and terrifying cry arose from his throat; a cry that make +even the beasts of this forest freeze in their tracks and crouch lower +in their places of concealment. A cry of such rage and agony that even +the trees of the forest seemed to pause and listen in mute wonder.... + + * * * * * + +Mulcahey Davis, State Trooper, picked brambles from the legs of his +blue uniform and cursed his assignment in no uncertain terms. + +Why in the name of law and decency had he and Mowbray been ordered to +patrol this tangled, deserted spook-hole? Sure--the body of some old +hobo had been found in a well with rocks thrown on it but what were he +and Mowbray going to prove by tramping around through these brambles? + +Mulcahey Davis heard footsteps and looked up to see Mowbray laboring +across the last few yards of his beat. Mowbray broke from the last +clutching strands of thorn bush and began beating burrs from his legs. +"Find anything?" he asked. + +"Not a blasted thing. It's downright crazy, our clambering around this +woods. What will we find? A couple of rabbits?" + +"That body in the well has to be investigated," Mowbray said, +seriously. "Pretty odd deal." + +"What progress have they made?" + +"They've located the outfit that held this place in trust, but the guy +in charge had a stroke or something. He can't be questioned. They may +never be able to question him. An old guy named Pride. He's in pretty +bad shape." + +"Chances are he wouldn't know anything about it even if they could ask +him. What would he have been doing out here?" + +"There's that funny fire in the basement, too. Nothing routine about +that. Fire so hot it melted rock. A lot of unanswered questions +here." + +"If they'd ask me, I'd tell them--" + +Mulcahey Davis' throat froze as a terrible cry smote his ears. Mowbray +paled suddenly and the two men looked at each other in instinctive +fear. + +But they were tried and tested law-enforcement officers and were not +held in the grip of terror for long. "Did you hear that?" Mulcahey +Davis said. + +"Good lord, man! How could I help it!" + +"Where'd it come from?" + +"Over there." + +"Let's go." + +The two troopers plunged again into the undergrowth to emerge at the +edge of an open field. And regardless of their personal courage and +experience in their line of effort, what they saw froze them anew. + +A giant of a man--a creature of godlike proportions stood in the open +field, washed by the rays of the setting sun. His great arms were held +aloft and he was looking up into the sky with a terrifying expression +that was a mixture of pain and rage. + +He was speaking and his great voice echoed in what was remindful of a +thunderous prayer. "I know not the purpose for which I was created but +well do I now know my dedicated task. Vengeance! Vengeance such as +this world or any other has never seen!" + +With this the giant--clad in a strange colorful uniform of some +sort--dropped to his knees and lowered his great head into his hands. + +Mowbray's face was grim and alert. "Come on," he whispered. "We're +behind him so we get a break. Move in quietly. And let's get him +before he sees us. I've got a hunch he could lick ten of us and we +don't want to use our guns." + +They crossed the field softly and moved in behind the kneeling man. +They acted in concert with an expertness telling of lengthy +experience. + +Mowbray was thankful for the way it turned out. He knew not why the +giant put up no resistance. The man seemed stunned as from a great +blow and before he could recover, the troopers had him bound hand and +foot with their belts. + +Mulcahey Davis got to his feet and wiped the sweat from his face. +"There's one for the psychos and a padded cell afterwards." + +"You said it," Mowbray agreed heartily. "Let's take him in." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +_The Road to Nadia_ + + +The stads of Abaria, like the masters who rode them, were +ill-accustomed to the clear cold air of Nadia. They snorted visible +jets of vapor into the crisp air as their splayed feet scratched and +slipped, seeking purchase on the ice-covered, up-tilted rocky plain. + +"It's an accursed country, lord," Hultax told the king of the Abarians +as their steeds advanced shoulder and shoulder. + +Retoc sat tall and straight on the stad's broad back, his black cloak +with the royal emblem billowing in the stiff wind, his hard handsome +face ruddy with the cold air, his cruel eyes mere slits against the +Nadian wind. "Quiet, you fool," he admonished Hultax. "Everything we +Abarians say and do in Nadia must be sweetness and light--now." + +The vanguard of the long column of Abarian riders had reached a +rushing mountain stream, its waters too swift to freeze in the +sub-zero temperature. Lifting one hand overhead, Retoc called a halt. + +"They'll find out, lord," Hultax persisted. "They'll find out what you +did. I know they will. They'll find out it was you who killed Jlomec, +their ruler's brother." + +Retoc smiled. The smile made Hultax' blood run cold, for he had seen +such a smile before--when Retoc witnessed the execution of disloyal +Abarian subjects. The smile hardened on Retoc's face, as if it had +frozen there in the cold Nadian wind. "Dismount your steed," he said +in a soft voice which only Hultax heard. + +Trembling, Hultax obeyed his master's command. His stad, suddenly +riderless, pawed nervously at the frost-hardened ground on the edge of +the stream. Retoc withdrew his whip-sword and fondled the +jewel-encrusted haft. "If you ever say that again, here in Nadia or +elsewhere, I will kill you," he warned his lieutenant. + +"But the brown girl--" + +"The brown girl be damned!" roared Retoc in sudden fury. + +"We haven't been able to find her. That day at the cave, she came +rushing out, lord, while you--" + +"I was detained," Retoc said, some of the passion gone from his voice. +He would never forget the sight of the iron-thewed young man, who once +had almost strangled him, growing suddenly, incredibly transparent, +then disappearing. He had stood there, whip-sword in hand, mouth +agape, while the brown girl ran past him and--according to what Hultax +had told him later--mounted his own stad and vanished across the +Ofridian plain. + +"But lord, don't you see?" Hultax demanded. "The brown girl knows what +happened to Jlomec, prince of the royal Nadian blood. If she attends +the royal funeral. She will--" + +Retoc laughed. Hultax blanched. He had heard such laughter when +enemies of Retoc and thus of Abaria had died in pain. "Fool, fool!" he +heard Retoc say now. "Think you a bedraggled wayfaring maid of the +Ofridian desert will be invited to the funeral of a prince of the +Nadian royal blood?" + +"Nevertheless, sire," Hultax persisted, "that day at the cave I took +the liberty to send three of our best stadsmen after the girl with +orders to capture her or kill her on sight." + +Slowly, as a thaw spreads in spring over the broad Nadian ice fields, +Retoc smiled at his second in command. Hultax too let his face relax +into a grateful grin: until now he had been teetering on the brink of +violent death, and he knew it. + +"You may mount," Retoc said. + + * * * * * + +Hastily Hultax climbed astride his stad. Retoc lifted his arm overhead +and made a circular motion with his outstretched hand. The first of +the Abarian stads advanced with some reluctance into the swift cold +shallow water of the stream. + +"What about the white giant?" Hultax asked unwisely when the entire +party had reached the other side and Retoc was urging his stad up the +slippery bank. + +"Have your scouts been able to find the wayfarers who saw him?" + +"No, sire. Only the girl nursed him back to health. The others fled." + +"And wisely. They have learned to hold their tongues, as you should +learn, Hultax. They will give us no trouble. As far as they are +concerned, there is no white giant." + +"But there is talk of what happened at the Tower, and of Portox' +wizardry, and a god who would return, full-grown in exactly a hundred +years--" + +"Shut up!" Retoc cried, almost screaming the words. + +But that night at the Abarian encampment a day and a half's march +from Nadia city, Retoc dreamed of Queen Evalla, the lovely Ofridian +ruler whose slow death by torture he had relished as the final act of +his utter destruction of the once proud Ofridian nation. Evalla in the +dream seemed happy and confident. Retoc awoke sweating although frigid +winds howled over the Nadian ice-fields. Her confidence sent unknown +fear through him. + + * * * * * + +"Really, it's quite simple," the superbly-muscled prisoner said in the +language which was not his own but which he could speak as well as a +native. "You see, it wasn't simple at all until I saw what was in the +package, but it's quite simple now. In the package was a picture of my +mother, the dead Queen Evalla. I am her son. I am of the royal blood. +When I saw the picture, it suddenly triggered my memory-responses, as +Portox had arranged. Then--" + +"What about the old guy in the well?" the trooper asked +unimaginatively. + +"I'm sorry. I can't answer your questions now. I have to return to my +home. The handful of wayfarers who alone are left of a once great +nation are waiting for vengeance. I will...." + +His voice trailed on, earnestly, politely. The trooper looked at the +man from the state mental hospital, who shook his head slowly. They +left the powerful, polite prisoner in his cell and went through the +corridor to the prison office. + +"Real weirdy, huh, doc?" the trooper said. + +"A--uh--weirdy to you, but rather cut and dry to me, I'm afraid," Dr. +Slonamn said. "Delusions of grandeur and delusions of persecution. +Advanced paranoia, I'm afraid." + +"It's funny, doc. When they took everything away from him he might +hurt himself with, he didn't mind at all. Only the bracelet. Three +strong men had to hold him when they took the bracelet." + +"Bracelet?" Dr. Slonamn said. + +"We got it in the office. I'll show you." + +The bracelet turned out to be a small, mesh-metal strap as wide around +as a big man's upper arm. Attached to the strap was a disc of silvery +metal. + +"You'd think it was worth a million bucks," the trooper said. + +Dr. Slonamn nodded sagely. "Paranoid. It helps confirm the diagnosis. +You see, out of touch with the real world, a paranoid can attach great +value to utterly worthless objects. Well, I'll write out my report, +sergeant." + +"Captain Caruthers said to thank you, sir." + +"Not at all. Part of my job." + +Meanwhile, back in his cell, the prisoner, big hands gripping the bars +so tight that his knuckles were white, was thinking: _I've got to make +them understand. Somehow I've got to make them understand before it's +too late._ + +He closed his eyes, lost in intense thought. When he did so, an image +swam before his mind's eye. He did not know how this could be, but +ascribed it to more of the dead Portox' magic. + +What he saw was the barren ice fields of Nadia, with several great +caravans making their slow way across the bleak blazing whiteness +toward Nadia City. As was the custom in Nadia, the prisoner--whose +name was Bram Forest--knew, great funeral games would be held to honor +the memory of the late beloved Prince Jlomec. And it was here in +frigid Nadia, at such a time as this, when all the royal blood of all +the royal households of Tarth gathered, the wizardry of Portox seemed +to tell him, that vengeance would come. Here, if only.... + +_Ylia!_ + +The image blurred. He had seen her once. His knuckles went white as +bleached bone on the bars. He concentrated every atom of his will. +_Ylia, Ylia!_ But now with his eyes shut he saw nothing. With his eyes +opened, only the bars of his cell and the cell-block corridor beyond. +_Ylia, Ylia! Hear me. There is danger on the road to Nadia. Ylia...._ + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +_On the Ice Fields of Nadia_ + + +B'ronth the Utalian left footprints in the snow. + +Otherwise, B'ronth was invisible. But if a hidden observer watched the +Utalian's slow progress across the ice fields of Nadia he would see +where the ice was soft or where snow had fallen during the night into +the gullies, the unexpected, mysterious appearance of footprints, a +left staggered after a right, then another left, then a right again, +then a left. + +Actually, B'ronth the Utalian was not invisible. But like all +Utalians, he was a chameleon of a man. Within seconds his skin would +assume the color of its environment, utterly and completely. Thus, +from above B'ronth the Utalian was the dazzling white of the Nadian +ice-fields; from below, looking up at the pale cloudless sky, he was +cold, transparent blue. + +All morning he had been trailing the girl. He had reached her camp on +the road to Nadia only moments after she had quit it in company with +an old man. From the tattered snow cloaks they wore, they both clearly +were wayfarers. B'ronth could have challenged them at once, sprinting +across the ice toward them, but he hadn't done that. B'ronth the +Utalian was a coward. He accepted the fact objectively: his people +were notorious cowards. The proper time would come, he told himself. +There would come a time when the girl and the old man were helpless. +Then he, B'ronth, would strike. + +The day before an Abarian warrior had given him a description of the +girl and had promised him a bag of gold for her capture, half a bag of +gold if he killed her and could prove it. A bag of gold, he thought. +He would take her alive. It was a long, cold road to Nadia City. True, +B'ronth the Utalian was small of stature, a puny creature like all his +people. And there were certain disadvantages in his perfect +camouflage. He was walking naked across the ice-fields in order to +remain unseen. His flesh shivered and his bones were stiff. But a +Nadian boy named Lulukee, whom B'ronth had promised half the gold, was +not many minutes' march behind him with warm clothing, food, and +drink. After he captured the girl.... + + * * * * * + +Invisible, he mounted a rise where solid sheet ice adhered to the +shoulder of a rocky hill. Below him, traversing a snow-floored valley +and so far away that they were mere dots against the snow, were the +old man and the girl. + +B'ronth the Utalian chuckled. The sound was swept up instantly and +dispersed by the wind. It was a cold wind and it all but froze B'ronth +to the marrow, but the Nadian sun was surprisingly warm and now seemed +to beam down on him with promise of his golden reward. Shivering both +from cold and delight, the invisible Utalian walked swiftly down into +the snow-mantled valley. + +There would be a trail of footprints for the boy Lulukee to +follow.... + + * * * * * + +"Cold, Hammeth?" Ylia asked her companion. + +"No, girl. I'll manage if you will. Is it much further?" + +"Half a day's march to Nadia City yet, I'm afraid," Ylia said. "We +could rest if you wish." + +The man was extremely old by Tarthian standards, probably three +hundred and fifty years old. He wore a snow-cape of _purullian_ fur +which the wind whipped about his bony frame and up over his completely +bald head. "I'm sorry, Ylia," he said suddenly. There were tears in +his eyes which the cold and the wind did not explain. + +"What for? You came to the cave. You accompanied me here to Nadia." + +"When Retoc the Abarian almost killed the White God, I fled with the +others." + +"If you didn't flee you too might have been slain, Hammeth." + +"Yet you remained behind." + +"He still lived. Someone had to tend him." + +Hammeth's breath came in shallow gasps. He once had been a strong, big +man, but the life and the strength had fled his frame when Retoc +destroyed Ofrid, a hundred years before. As a wayfarer on the Plains +of Ofrid, he had aged in those hundred years. And he had shrunk and +shriveled with approaching senility. "Tell me, Ylia," he asked, +panting, "is this Bram Forest you speak of indeed the--the god of the +legend? The God of the Tower come to right the ancient wrongs?" + +A frown marred the beauty of Ylia's matchless face. "At first," she +said with a far-away look in her lovely eyes, "at first I thought he +was. Hadn't he come, suddenly, from nowhere, at the ordained moment? +But then when he did not slay Retoc, when instead he allowed Retoc the +use of his whip-sword and was almost slain by Retoc, when he bled like +any mortal, when he--" All at once Ylia was blushing. + +"What is it, child?" Hammeth asked. + +"Nothing. It is nothing." + +"Ylia. You were the infant daughter of a lady in waiting of the royal +court of Ofrid. I was a captain of the Queen's Guards. When Retoc's +legions brought their death and destruction, I fled to the wilderness +with you. I raised you from infancy. I--" the old man's eyes clouded +over with emotion--"you have no secrets from me, child." + +Ylia was still blushing. But a serene smile replaced the frown on her +face. "Very well, Father Hammeth, I will tell you. There in the cave +as I nursed the stranger back to health, as he grew stronger and could +move about, as we conversed and came to know each other, I--I desired +him." + +Hammeth said nothing. His face was stern. + +"Please," said Ylia, laughing now that her secret was out. "It wasn't +the kind of desire that could make me a candidate for the Golden Ape, +but--I desired him. It was a pure, sweet emotion, such as I have never +felt before. I wanted him. I wanted to serve him. I wanted to spend my +life helping him and ... Hammeth ... Father Hammeth ... loving him. +There, I have said it." + + * * * * * + +Hammeth only muttered. They plodded on through the snow, which here +was deep and powdery so they floundered sometimes to their knees. + +"But a girl shouldn't feel such desire for a god, so I told myself he +was mortal." Abruptly and for no reason that Hammeth could fathom, +Ylia began to cry. + +"What is it, child? What is it?" + +"He--he fled. He had lost much blood and he was weak, yes, but he +didn't even stay to protect me. He fled from Retoc. Is that a god? Is +that even a man who can bring retribution to Retoc? Is it, Hammeth? Is +it?" + +"Yet you're taking the road to Nadia even as legend says the White God +will take the road to Nadia." + +"Nonsense," said Ylia, wiping away her tears. "Someone has to tell the +Nadians what really happened to poor Jlomec, that's all. Retoc, Retoc +will have them eating off his hand. He'll have them believing whatever +he says. They'll never know that he killed a prince of their royal +blood." + +"But what can Bontarc of Nadia--or anyone--do against the power of +Retoc's Abarians?" + +"The White God could--" + +"Ah, you see? Then perhaps you do believe, after all." + +"The White God or whoever he was," said Ylia coldly, "fled a coward +from Retoc." She pouted. "And yet, and yet he seemed so confused." + +"Perhaps he fled so that the Ofridians might live again in the pride +of their greatness," Hammeth declared with vehemence. + +"You believe, don't you, Father Hammeth?" Ylia asked simply. + +"I want to believe, child." + +"You're panting so. You're tired. We'll have to stop and rest." + +They were traversing the deepest part of the valley where the Nadian +wind, funneling through between the hills flanking the depression, had +piled the snow into drifts twice the height of a man. They hunkered +down in the lee of one of the snow-drifts, where the wind could not +reach them. With stiff fingers Ylia withdrew strips of jerked stadmeat +from the inside pocket of her snow cloak, sharing them with Hammeth. +They munched the tough cold meat, Ylia looking at the old man with +tenderness and affection. Her foster father, he had been the only +parent she had ever known. She closed her eyes and for a moment +thought back over the years they had spent as wayfarers on the +Ofridian Plain, the years dreaming of revenge and succor which would +never come, the years.... + +"Ylia! Ylia!" + +Father Hammeth was calling her name, urgently. She shook herself from +her reverie. They were seated with their backs to one of the great +snow-drifts, where it fell off suddenly like a suspended, frozen sea +wave. With a trembling hand Hammeth was pointing before him, out +across the ice fields. + +There in the soft snow which mantled the ice of Nadia to a depth of +only a few inches, were footprints. They were not old prints, +deposited there when some wayfarer had passed. Incredibly, they were +being made even as Hammeth and Ylia watched, as if by some creature +with no palpable existence. The icy wind seemed intensified. + + * * * * * + +"It--it's coming toward us," Hammeth said, his voice a croaking +whisper. Ylia knew that he was afraid again. Somehow with the +advancing years, the steel and fire had gone from Hammeth's heart. Or +perhaps, she thought in sympathy, the terrible defeat and destruction +of Ofrid a hundred years ago had done this to him, had turned one of +the Queen's proven champions into an aging craven wayfarer. + +"We'll have to flee," Hammeth said breathlessly. + +Behind them was the frozen wave of snow. To the right, far away across +the snows, Abaria and the Plains of Ofrid. To the left, not half a +day's journey, Nadia City. Ahead of them, the advancing footprints. + +"Your whip-sword!" Ylia cried. "Quickly." + +"I carry it, but I can't use it now," Hammeth protested. "I'm an old +man, Ylia. An old man." + +"Then let me have it." + +"You? But you're just a girl. You couldn't--" + +"Don't you see, Father Hammeth? It's only a man. An Utalian. It can't +be anything else. If he comes in peace, well enough. Otherwise ... +here, give me that sword." + +But Hammeth shook his head with unexpected pride and pulled the weapon +from its scabbard. + +Just then the footprints became wider spaced and appeared more quickly +in the snow. The invisible Utalian was running toward them. Awkward, +cursing at his own impotence, Hammeth fumbled with his weapon. + +_You who call yourself Bram Forest_, Ylia thought, _White God or +whatever you are--help us, help us_! Then she hated herself for the +unbidden thought. Bram Forest had deserted her once, hadn't he, after +she had saved his life? What help could she expect from a man like +Bram Forest? Or was Father Hammeth right? Perhaps Bram Forest had fled +so that Ofrid might one day live again to see the wrath of the gods +fall on Retoc and his Abarians. + +Or, Ylia thought with an abrupt flash of insight, perhaps Bram +Forest's flight had been out of his control. Perhaps he was as yet a +pawn in a game he barely understood.... + +_Bram Forest, we need you!_ + +The running footprints were almost upon them. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +_Volna the Beautiful_ + + +Bram Forest had been day-dreaming. + +Ylia? Hadn't Ylia been calling his name? But how could that be? Ylia +was almost two hundred million miles away. Clearly, as long as they +kept the magic disc away from him, he could never see Ylia again. And +besides, now that he had been vouchsafed a vision of his dead mother, +the former queen of Ofrid, and now that that vision had conjured up +the entire tragic past for him, why was it that when he shut his eyes +and allowed the bright sun to beat down on the lids through the cell +window he saw an image of the sun-browned maid, Ylia? + +Could it be, he asked himself, wondering if somehow he were profaning +the memory of the mother he had never known, that Ylia stood not for +the past but for the present and the future, and that it was in the +present and the unknown future that Bram Forest must live and do his +life's work and perhaps perish, although he was motivated from the +past? + +A guard brought food on a tray. The cell door clanged open, the tray +was delivered, the cell door clanged shut. The guard did not pay +particular attention to Bram Forest: he had been a docile enough +prisoner. + +Ylia, he thought. + +He knew he must escape next time the guard brought food. + + * * * * * + +Dr. Slonamn held up the bracelet with the metal disc on it and stared +curiously at the contraption. He was a psychologist, he could hardly +consider himself an expert on metallurgy. Still, he had never seen a +metal like that from which the disc had been fashioned. It seemed too +opaque for steel, too hard for silver. A steel and silver alloy, then? +But he had never heard of a steel and silver alloy. + +He held it up to the light. Like a fly's many-faceted eye it threw +back manifold images of--himself. Somehow, it made him dizzy to gaze +at the images. He drew his eyes away and had an impulse to fling the +strange disc away across the room. + +The sun was going down. He heard a clattering from the prison kitchen +as the evening meal was prepared. Tomorrow, he thought, should see the +completion of his work here. Another interview with the paranoid giant +who had brought the disc, perhaps. The disc fascinated him. + +He looked at it again. He didn't want to, and recognized the strange +compulsion within himself. Then, before he quite realized it, he was +staring at his multiple image again. His senses swam. There was a +far-away rustling sound like--the words came unbidden to his mind from +a poem by Kipling--like the wind that blows between the worlds. He +gazed again at the disc. It seemed to draw him, as a magnet draws iron +filings. Now he wanted to fight it, wanted to fight with every ounce +of his strength. A wave of giddiness swept over him, leaving nausea in +its wake. He clutched at the prison-office desk for support. The +rustling grew louder. + +He saw--or thought he saw--a girl, a lovely, sun-bronzed girl. There +was a look of fear on her face. She seemed to be crying out for help. + +An abyss yawned before his feet, before his very soul. He longed +despite himself to plunge into the abyss, whatever the fearful +consequences might be. He lurched back, fighting the longing. Yet he +knew he wouldn't win. He took a step forward.... + +"Give it to me!" + +The voice, urgent, distant, beckoned him back to reality. It seemed a +great distance off, but it was something to which he could hold. + +"Give me that disc!" + +He felt himself dragged roughly back, saw the abyss retreating. The +rustling of the wind between the worlds became distant, a sound +imagined rather than heard. + +"Give it to me!" + + * * * * * + +He blinked. The nausea had washed over him. He felt weak, drained, +exhausted. But the substantial reality of the prison office surrounded +him. + +The young giant stood before him, strapping the bracelet which held +the disc on his powerful arm. A look of intense concentration was on +his face. His skin was bathed with sweat although it was cool in the +room. + +"What did you do to the guard?" Dr. Slonamn asked, wondering if the +prisoner would slay him. + +"He'll be all right. I only hit him. I'm sorry. It was necessary." The +giant spoke in haste. His eyes were clouded, dreamy, as if he had +taken an overdose of barbituates. + +"What are you going to do?" + +"You saw? In the disc?" + +"Yes," said Dr. Slonamn. + +"I'm going. It's my home." + +The giant took a step forward, then began to stagger. + +"Your home?" Dr. Slonamn gasped. "Your _home_?" + +The giant, who had given his name to the prison authorities as Bram +Forest, did not answer. Dr. Slonamn reached out, as if to grab him. +Bram Forest stood there, a smile and the acceptance of pain fighting +for mastery of his face. + +Dr. Slonamn staggered back as if struck. _His hand had passed through +Bram Forest's body._ + +Staggering, trembling, Dr. Slonamn leaned for support on the desk. He +could see through Bram Forest now. See through him entirely. + +A cold fierce wind, like no wind ever felt on Earth, touched him. He +shuddered. + +When he looked again, Bram Forest was gone.... + + * * * * * + +"Retoc the Abarian!" the seneschal's voice proclaimed. + +An uneasy stir passed through the crowd of mourning courtiers in the +palace chamber. Retoc, ruler of Abaria, did not often visit Nadia. A +state of armed tension existed between Abaria and Nadia of the ice +fields. Nadia alone of the many disunited nations of Tarth had +strength in some ways comparable to that of black forested Abaria, but +even then, if a war came between the two nations, the issue would +never seriously be in doubt. + +As a matter of diplomacy, Retoc had been invited to the funeral of +Prince Jlomec, although neither Bontarc, ruler of Nadia, nor his +sister, Volna the Beautiful, had ever dreamed he would come. + +While the crowd milled about in their white mourning garments, Retoc +told the seneschal: "I wish an audience with the Princess Volna." + +The crowd was suddenly quiet. Volna the Beautiful, haughty, imperious, +princess of the royal blood, would certainly refuse to see the Abarian +ruler. Nevertheless, the seneschal bowed low, said, "Your request will +be carried to the staff of the royal household, lord," and disappeared +behind a hanging. + + * * * * * + +Some time later, in another part of the palace, Bontarc was saying: +"Volna, Volna, listen to me. You can't see that man now." + +"I'm going to see him," Volna the Beautiful told her brother. "So it +may not be said that a princess of the royal blood hid in fear behind +a wall of tragedy." + +"But sister! With dear Prince Jlomec still not on the burning barge +which will carry him down the River of Ice on the final journey from +which--" + +"Please, brother," Volna said a little coldly. "I'm going to grant +Retoc his audience. Don't you understand? He thinks me weakened by +Jlomec's death. Oh, I loved the Prince, yes. He was always so--so +quiet and aloof from affairs of state. But I can be strong if strong I +have to be." + +"Then you won't change your mind?" Bontarc asked. He was a fighting +man by nature. The devious paths of diplomacy he set foot on only with +reluctance. + +For answer Volna said: "Let me prepare to greet the royal visitor." +And she watched Bontarc leave her quarters. + +At once she clapped her hands. Six serving maids skipped through the +hangings into her huge bower and while they clustered jabbering about +her like so many excited birds, she undid the fastening at her left +shoulder and allowed her gown of mourning white to fall in a crumpled +heap at her feet. She stood naked and perfectly still while the +serving maids administered to her, each girl a master in one of the +cosmetic arts. And Volna, she of the haughty face and glorious body, +she who already had been beautiful to look upon, was soon transformed +by the cosmetic arts into the loveliest woman the planet Tarth had +seen since the Queen Evalla. + +Her thoughts went to the dead queen of Ofrid as the maids dressed her +again in the mourning garment. Evalla, a woman with beauty to match +Volna's, had ruled the most powerful nation Tarth had ever known. +Then, Volna smiled, why not another such woman, with hands strong +enough, and vision clear enough, to grasp the chalice of power and +drink deeply of its heady brew? + + * * * * * + +"Retoc," she was saying a few moments later. + +She clapped her hands. The maids in waiting withdrew, giggling. + +"Volna, Volna," said the big Abarian ruler. "You are glorious. Every +jek of the journey from the Plains of Ofrid across the ice fields of +Nadia, I burned for you." He came very close to her. His face swam +before her vision, a hard, strong, handsome face with the cruel eyes +of a sadist. Fitting consort for a woman who would rule the world? His +lips parted.... + +Volna, smiling, placed her cool hand over his mouth. + +"Then let me put out the fire," she said coolly, "for we have much to +discuss." + +"But Princess, I--" + +"Hush. And what, exactly, were you doing on the Plains of Ofrid?" + +Retoc's big face flushed red. Then, when he saw Volna was still +smiling, he said: "When we met last, you mentioned that two men stood +between you and the throne of Nadia." + +"Yes?" said Volna, mocking him, turning swiftly with the light behind +her sending its bright beams through the white mourning garment and +outlining the seductive curves of her body. + +"Jlomec is dead," Retoc said simply. + +Still smiling, Volna slapped the big man's face ringingly. Retoc +stepped back, startled. + +"Fool!" Volna hissed. "I can call the guards. I can have you slain." + +"But I--" + +"I did not say I was not pleased. But don't lie to me. That isn't why +you slew my brother. Well, man, is it?" + +Retoc bowed his head. Only in his eyes there was fury. "We'll make a +strange pair, Volna, you and I," he said passionately. + +"Is it?" + +Retoc shook his head slowly. + +"You see? I knew it. I knew it was you when they told us Jlomec had +been slain, and yet because I know you and know too how you are quick +to passion, I told myself you had not done it consciously because I +had suggested it to you. Fool. Can I trust such as you?" + +"Only Bontarc stands between you and empire. And Bontarc is a simple +man." + +"As you are a passionate man." + +"Yet you need me, Volna. You need the strength of my arm--and my army. +What a pair we'll make!" + +Volna stepped into the embrace of his big arms and allowed herself to +be kissed. Retoc burned for her. He had said so. All men burned for +her, she knew that. And, before she was finished, every man of Tarth +would kneel at her feet and call her Queen. + +Retoc drew back finally, breathing hard. Volna had for him only a +cool, mocking smile. + + * * * * * + +At last he said, "There are some who might say Retoc of Abaria killed +the royal prince." + +"Dolt! Were you seen?" + +Retoc shrugged as if it were not important. "A band of wayfarers on +the Ofridian Plain. They were so frightened, they fled at once. After +I had wounded the white giant." + +Volna's eyes flashed suddenly. "There was someone else? You did not +kill him?" + +"I tried to. He escaped, Princess." + +"Then you are more a fool than I thought." + +"But I--" + +"Begone! We can't be seen together too much. Take quarters in Nadia +City, and let me know where you are. You understand?" + +"Yes, Princess." + +She allowed him to kiss her hand, then he withdrew. A few moments +later, at her summons, the seneschal appeared. Subtly her face had +changed. No longer was she the desiring and desirous princess. +Instead, she was a grieving sister, whose brother's body still lay in +state in the royal palace. + +The seneschal, whose name was Prokliam, bowed obsequiously. He knew +that by custom the body of a royal Nadian floated down the River of +Ice in the company of two living servants--one man and one woman--who +would perish with him in the Place of the Dead. He knew also that he +had been Jlomec's favorite and now lived in constant fear that the +Princess Volna would decree that he, Prokliam, must accompany his dead +master on the Journey of No Return, to serve him in death as he had +served him in life. + +"Yes, lady?" the frightened Prokliam asked. + +"Bontarc, our king, grieves mightily for the dead prince," Volna said. + +"All Nadia grieves for Jlomec, lady," Prokliam said, and added +hastily: "Although I must admit I do not grieve more than the next +man. No, no, it is a mistake to think I was Jlomec's favorite." + +"Be that as it may Bontarc grieves so that for a while at least some +of the affairs of state will be in my hands." + +"I hear and understand lady." + +"Good. If anyone comes--anyone at all, whether wayfarers from Ofrid or +others--with news of how Jlomec died, they are to be brought at once +to me. Is that understood?" + +"Yes, my princess." Prokliam the seneschal bowed low once more. + +"Serve me well in this, Prokliam, and you will be rewarded in +measure." + +Prokliam smiled. "I will be the personification of discretion," he +said boldly, baring his toothless old gums. + +"Then perhaps I will still the rumors that you were the dead Jlomec's +favorite." + +Prokliam dropped at the royal feet and touched his lips to the royal +toes. Then he bowed out of the room. + +Volna stared for many moments at her beautiful face in the mirror. +Queen, she thought. She said it aloud: + +"Queen Volna." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +_The Journey of No Return_ + + +Earlier that day, on the ice fields half a dozen jeks from Nadia City, +B'ronth the Utalian had sprinted boldly across the snow toward the +girl and her elderly male companion. This had taken considerable +effort, because B'ronth the Utalian had not been endowed with an +abundance of courage. But B'ronth was a poor man, as Utalia was a poor +country; a bag of gold would be a veritable fortune to him. Like most +cowards, B'ronth had one passion which could over-ride his timidity: +that passion in B'ronth's case was wealth. + +The old man was fumbling clumsily for his whip-sword when B'ronth +hurtled at them. The girl screamed: + +"Look out, Father Hammeth! Look out!" + +B'ronth smiled. They would not see the smile, of course. B'ronth, a +chameleon man, was invisible. They would see his footprints in the +snow, true. They would know him for a Utalian and understand his +invisibility. But still the advantage of invisibility would be his. It +had always been so when a Utalian fought. It would always be so. + +B'ronth leaped upon the old man even as he prepared to strike out with +the whip-sword. B'ronth was both naked and unarmed. The sword lashed +whining at air a foot from his face. B'ronth wrenched its haft from +the old man's hand. Hammeth stumbled back. + +B'ronth swung the whip-sword. He was no duelist. A duelist would lunge +and thrust with the whip-sword, allowing its mobile point some degree +of freedom by controlling it deftly. A non-duelist like B'ronth would +hack and slash, the deadly sword-point whipping about, curling, +slashing, striking. + +Hammeth held up his hands to defend himself. The whip-sword whined in +the cold air. The girl screamed. Hammeth's right hand flew from his +arm and blood jetted from the stump. Hammeth sank to the ground and +lay there in a spreading pool of crimson. His eyes remained open. He +was staring with hatred at B'ronth. In a matter of minutes, B'ronth +knew, he would bleed to death. B'ronth turned on the girl. + +She stood before him swaying. She had almost swooned, but as B'ronth +approached her, she flung herself at him, crying Hammeth's name, and +they both fell down in the snow. B'ronth let the whip-sword fall from +his fingers. Half a bag of gold for a dead girl, but the whole bag if +she lived. She fought like a wild cat and for a few moments B'ronth +regretted dropping the weapon and actually feared for his life. But +soon, his courage returning and his whole being contemplating the bag +of gold, he subdued the girl. + +She lay back exhausted in the snow. "Please," she said. "Please bind +his arm. He'll bleed to death. Please." + +B'ronth said nothing. Ylia staggered to her feet, then collapsed and +crawled on her knees to Hammeth. The blood jetted from the stump of +his arm. He was watching her. A little smile touched the corners of +his mouth but pain made his eyes wild. + +B'ronth licked his lips. He had earned his bag of gold and, earning +it, thought of more wealth. He thought: _why should I accept one bag +of gold from a common Abarian soldier when there are millions of bags +of gold in Nadia City_? He could deliver the girl, who obviously knew +something the Abarians did not wish the Nadians to know, to Nadia +City. He could sell her to the Nadians. Or, if the Abarians outbid +them, then the Abarians.... + +Bruised, her cloak in tatters, Ylia reached Hammeth. His eyes blinked. +He smiled at her again, smiling this time with his whole face. Then he +turned his head away and his eyes remained open and staring. + +"You ... killed ... him," Ylia said, sobbing. + +B'ronth dragged her to her feet. "Lulukee!" he called. "Lulukee!" +Where was the boy? + +Lulukee did not answer. Cursing, B'ronth stripped the corpse and +dressed in its warm clothing. The blood on the right sleeve was +already stiff with cold. Where could Lulukee have gone off to? +wondered B'ronth. Well, no matter. They were only a few jeks from +Nadia City, where wealth awaited him.... + +"Come," he said. He dragged the girl along. She looked back at the +dead old man until a snow drift hid him from sight. + + * * * * * + +After the Utalian had dragged the beautiful girl beyond the ridges of +snow, Lulukee the Nadian came down into the valley. He was a small boy +of some sixty winters who, like many of the Nadians who did not come +from their country's single large city, had lived a hard life as an +ice-field nomad. He had seen an opportunity to profit in the service +of B'ronth the Utalian, but had not expected this service to include +murder. Thus when the Utalian had called him, expecting the boy to +drag his supply sled down into the snow-valley, Lulukee had remained +hidden. Now, though, he made his way to the body of the dead man and, +scavengerlike, went over it with the hope of turning a profit by +B'ronth's deed. + +In that he was disappointed. B'ronth had taken the dead man's snow +cloak and his whip-sword: there was nothing left for Lulukee's +gleaning. He was about to turn and trudge back the way he had come, +when he realized that if he did so, if he exposed himself on the +higher wind-ridges, B'ronth might see him. Therefore he remained a +long time with the frozen body of Father Hammeth, actually falling +into a light slumber while he waited. + +He awoke with a start. He blinked, then cowered away from the +apparition which confronted him. It was a man, but such a man as +Lulukee the Nadian had never seen before, a superbly muscled man a +head taller than the tall Abarians themselves. + +"Where's the girl?" the man demanded. + +"I--I don't know, lord." + +"How did this happen?" The man looked down with compassion at Father +Hammeth's corpse. + +"I only just arrived, l-lord." + +"You lie," the big man said. "You were sleeping here. You'll tell me, +or--" + +Lulukee blanched. He owed no loyalty to B'ronth the Utalian. If indeed +he remained loyal he might be implicated in the murder of the old man. +He said: "It was B'ronth the Utalian." + + * * * * * + +"Where is he?" + +"G-going to Nadia City, I think." + +"Alone?" + +"No, lord. With his prisoner. A--a lovely woman." + +"Ylia!" the giant cried. "You! How are you called?" + +"I am Lulukee of Nadia, lord." + +"Lead me to the city. Lead me after them." + +"But lord--" + +"Lead me." The giant did not shout. He did not menace of glower or +threaten. Yet there was something in his bearing which made it +impossible for the frightened Lulukee to do anything but obey. "Yes, +lord," he said. + +"Tell me--" as they started out, the boy's sled reluctantly left +behind--"is this B'ronth the Utalian in Retoc's pay?" + +"No, I don't think so. He works alone, lord. Reaping profit wherever +he can." + +"And he took the girl unwillingly?" + +"Yes, lord." + +"He won't profit in this venture," Bram vowed. + +The wind howled behind them. Six jeks ahead of them was Nadia City. + + * * * * * + +"Can't you see I'm busy? Can't you see I have no time for the likes of +you?" Prokliam the seneschal whined in self-pity. + +"Then make time," B'ronth said boldly, his cowardice obscured by +dreams of avarice. "What I have brought through the Ice Gates is +important to your ruler." + +"Bontarc of Nadia," said the seneschal haughtily, "does not waste his +time on every Utalian vagabond who reaches his court." + +"True. But I assume Bontarc of Nadia wishes to know exactly how his +brother, the Prince Jlomec, died?" + +Prokliam fought to keep his puckered old face impassive. But his mind +was racing and his heart throbbed painfully. Could the Utalian know +anything about that? If so, and if he, Prokliam, brought this B'ronth +before the Princess Volna as she had ordered.... + +"Wait here," Prokliam snapped arrogantly. "And keep your cloak on. We +don't want invisible Utalians floating about the palace." + +B'ronth offered a mock bow. Prokliam turned to go, then whirled about +again. "If you're lying, wasting my time--" + +B'ronth smiled unctuously. "In the ante-room, being amused by your +palace guards, is one who has been on the Plains of Ofrid quite +recently." + +"So?" + +"When the Prince Jlomec was there. She saw him slain." + +"Wait here," said Prokliam a little breathlessly. He pushed the +hanging aside and stalked down a corridor, and around a bend, and up a +flight of stone stairs. He was busy, all right. That had been no lie. +Preparations must be made for the funeral games of the Prince Jlomec, +to which all the nobility of Tarth had been invited. But this, +obviously, was more important. On this Prokliam's life might +depend.... + +"Are they checking way-passes, lord?" Lulukee asked the big, silent +man at his side. Ahead of them, filing slowly through the Ice Gates, +were hundreds of visitors entering Nadia City for the funeral games. A +flat-bottomed air-car hovered overhead, peltasts leaning over its +sides, ready. Guards flanked the Ice Gates with drawn whip-swords, as +if admitting the superiority of Abarian weapons of war. + +"We'll get through," Bram Forest vowed. "Tell me, Lulukee, if you +brought a prisoner to the city who might be worth much to the Abarians +but also to the Nadians, and if you were intent on getting the biggest +profit, where would you take her?" + +"If I had great courage, lord?" + +"If you dreamed of reward." + +"I would take her to the royal palace, lord, to Bontarc the King or to +his sister, Princess Volna the Beautiful, who, some say, is the real +power behind the Nadian throne although Bontarc is a great soldier." + + * * * * * + +They had reached the gate. "Way passes," a bored guard said. + +Lulukee mumbled something uncertainly. His heart beat painfully +against his ribs. His brain refused to function. There was intrigue +here, he could sense that. More intrigue than he cared to have a hand +in. As a Nadian citizen, he owned a way pass, of course. But the +giant? Obviously the giant did not. Lulukee was sorry he had ever +agreed to go along with B'ronth the Utalian. Now he only wanted to get +out of the entire situation as quickly--and safely--as possible. + +He pointed an accusing finger at Bram Forest. "_He_ has no way pass!" +Lulukee cried. + +The guards stiffened, their whip-swords ready. They looked at Bram +Forest. Overhead, the air-car hovered, its peltasts stationed there in +the event of trouble, their slings poised. + +Ylia was in there somewhere, a prisoner. Bram Forest spurned violence +for its own sake, but Ylia might need him. Ylia, who had nursed him +back to health when Retoc had left him for dead on the parched Plains +of Ofrid. Ylia, the lovely. + +"I'm going through," Bram Forest said softly. "Don't try to stop me." + +For answer, the nearest guard let his left hand drop. + +It had been a signal. Overhead, the peltasts drew back their slings. +"Will you go in peace?" the guard asked, his eyes narrow slits now, +his right arm tensed to bring the whip-sword around. + +Bram Forest waited. Every muscle in his superbly-conditioned body +cried for action, but he would not initiate it. + +The guard pointed back along the path across the ice fields, where +hundreds of visitors to the city were waiting impatiently. "Then go," +he said harshly, "before your flesh feeds the stilt-birds on the banks +of the River of Ice." + +The guard raised his sword menacingly. Standing rigidly still and +giving no warning, Bram Forest lashed out with his left fist, hitting +the guard in the mouth. Lips split, teeth flew, blood covered the +guard's face. Someone screamed. The guard fell, but his companion +lashed out with his own whip-sword. Bram Forest lunged to one side and +grabbed the sword-arm, twisting it. The guard howled, dropping his +weapon. Lulukee made a dive for it. But the guard, his legs still +free, kicked Lulukee in the face. As he fell, his senses blurring, +Lulukee wondered why he had made that desperate, foolish attempt to +help the big, silent man. He could not answer the question in mere +words. But there was something about him, something about Bram Forest, +which drew loyalty from you even as the sun drew dew from the +ground.... + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest lifted the second guard by sword-girdle and scruff of neck +and held him aloft. The guard's arms and legs flailed frantically. +"No!" he screamed up at the peltasts. "No...." + +But they had already unleashed their first volley of stones, pelting +the helpless guard until he lost consciousness. Bram Forest flung him +aside, leaped over the first fallen guard's supine body, and plunged +recklessly into the crowds milling just inside the Ice Gates. + +"He went that way!" a voice screamed. + +"That way!" + +"Over there!" + +"There he is!" + +It was an ancient city, with narrow, tortuous alleyways and +overhanging buildings and little-used passageways. The wide +streets--the few there were--mobbed with people. + +For all his size, the giant had disappeared. + +Lulukee picked himself up, dusted himself off, and showed his way pass +to the guard. The guard said nothing. He had lost three teeth and his +mouth was swollen, painful. Lulukee sensed that somehow the little he +had done to help Bram Forest was all he would ever do for him. Yet he +felt with a strange pride he did not fathom that although his role in +the saga of the mysterious giant had come to an end, it was the most +important event in his life and would remain so if he lived to be +six-hundred. He felt somehow--and could not explain why he felt +this--as if in his small way he had done something to make the world +Tarth a better place in which to live. + +Whistling, he pushed his way through the crowds and was lost to sight +just as the giant who went before him. + + * * * * * + +"B'ronth of Utalia!" Prokliam the seneschal proclaimed. Volna the +Beautiful nodded. The doddering old seneschal had already told her +about the Utalian. She was prepared to receive him now. If he knew +what he claimed to know, if he knew the true details of the death of +Prince Jlomec, then he must be silenced. Naturally, he wanted gold. +They always wanted gold. But gold was not the way to silence them. +Gold never worked. It only made them greedy for more. + +With Volna were, instead of her usual ladies in waiting, two discreet +palace guards. Grinning, she looked at their whip-swords. That was the +way to silence one such as B'ronth the Utalian. + +"He may enter," Volna told the seneschal. Prokliam bowed out, saying: + +"And Princess, you will not forget--" + +"No, Prokliam, I won't forget. You hardly knew the Prince Jlomec at +all, did you? You certainly couldn't have been his favorite." + +"Princess," breathed the seneschal tremulously as he withdrew. + +A moment later, B'ronth the Utalian entered the royal chamber. He wore +a snow-cloak. He was all but invisible except for the snow-cloak. He +was, eerily, a disembodied cloak floating through air. Although, +noticed Volna, if you looked closely you could see the faintest +suggestion of a man's head above the cloak, as if you saw the rich +wall tapestries of the room through a transparent, head-shaped glass. +Likewise, the suggestion of arms and legs.... + +"You are B'ronth?" An unnecessary question, but Volna had not yet made +up her mind what must be done. + +"Yes, majesty," the cloak said in a different but somehow unctuous +voice. + +"You are alone?" + +"No, majesty," said the cloak. + +"Then--?" + +"A girl. A wayfarer of the Plains of Ofrid. I accompany her." + +"And the story you have to tell?" + +"I realize, majesty, how the royal Princess must grieve at the loss of +her royal brother, the Prince. I realize...." + +"To the point, man. Get to the point. Are you trying to say you know +how Prince Jlomec was slain? You know who killed him?" + +"Yes," said the cloak boldly, eagerly. + +Princess Volna smiled. Perhaps something in that smile warned B'ronth +the Utalian. But of course, the warning came too late. In a quick +jerky motion, the cloak retreated toward the doorway. "Princess...." +B'ronth said. + +Princess Volna told her guards: "Kill him." + +B'ronth the Utalian had time for one brief scream which, if a sound +could, seemed to embody all his frustrated dreams of wealth. Then one +of the guards moved swiftly, his arm streaking out. The whip-sword in +his hand lashed, blurring, toward the cloak. Bright red blood welled, +jetted. + +B'ronth the Utalian's head, no longer invisible, rolled on the floor +at Volna's lovely feet. "Clean that up," she told one of the guards. +To the other she said: "Now fetch the girl." + + * * * * * + +"Mind, lord, I don't question you," Hultax the Abarian said. "But it's +just--" + +"Did you send the message?" Retoc cut him off. + +"As you ordered, sire. Yes." + +"Good." + +"Sire, I hate inactivity. I loathe it. I am a soldier." + +"As I am," said Retoc slowly, his hard cruel eyes staring at something +Hultax could not--and would never be able to--see. + +"So we just sit here in this rented house in Nadia City, cooling our +heels. It doesn't make sense, sire." + +"Sense?" mused Retoc. "What is sense? Is it victory and power for the +strongest? Well, is it?" + +"Yes, lord," Hultax responded. "But--" + +"And you sent the message? Our legions will come?" + +"Yes, lord. Two days hence they'll be encamped on the ice fields three +jeks march from the city gates. But I don't see--" + +"You obey, Hultax. I see. I do the seeing." + +"But I thought you ... the Princess Volna ... together...." + +"The Princess can serve me, now. If she can deliver Nadia without a +fight, then Tarth is mine, Hultax, don't you see? In two days all the +royal blood of all the royal families of Tarth will be assembled here +in Nadia for the funeral games. If Bontarc's army doesn't interfere, +then I will be master of Tarth." + +"But if Bontarc finds out--" + +"That, Hultax," said Retoc with a smile, "is why you sent the +message." + +"My sire," said the proud soldier Hultax humbly. + +Soon, thought Retoc, all Tarth would call him that. _My sire...._ + + * * * * * + +Ahead of Bram Forest loomed the ramparts of the palace. He must hurry. +He knew he had to hurry. He pushed impatiently through the crowd. +Several times men looked up angrily, and would have said something. +But when they saw his face, they turned away. + +What they saw in Bram Forest's face made them afraid. + +"Majesty?" Prokliam the seneschal said. + +"Well?" Volna demanded. "Didn't the guards send you for the girl?" + +"Majesty, I was thinking...." + +"Well, Prokliam, what is it? Didn't you go for the girl?" + +"Not yet, majesty, begging your pardon...." + +"If you have something to say, then say it. And get the girl." + +"Majesty, a seneschal knows the palace. It is his job...." + +"I warn you, Prokliam, I have little patience today." Her anxiety was +evident. + +"No one wishes to be chosen," Prokliam blurted quickly, boldly, "even +as I did not wish to be chosen to accompany the body of Prince Jlomec +on the Journey of No Return. Now that you have spared me, in your +royal benevolence, I thought I might in turn advise you...." + +"Yes, what is it, man?" + +"You should not have killed the Utalian, majesty. If it is ordained +that a living man and a living woman accompany the Prince's body to +the Place of the Dead, to die there with him, their spirits serving +him in death, why choose from among the palace staff? We all have +family, we all have friends, we all stand something to lose. But +majesty, if you were to break with tradition, if you were to send +instead two strangers whose loss meant nothing to the palace, the +palace staff would love and revere you even more than they already +do." + + * * * * * + +Volna's beautiful face smiled at him. He did not know what she was +thinking. He never knew. No one did. She might reward him or have him +slain on the spot. "Why do you tell me this, Prokliam?" she asked. + +"For saving me when it was thought I would accompany--" + +"No. There must be another reason." + +"If you do this deed and if the palace and the people love you for it, +and if the scepter of power should slip from Bontarc's hand to yours, +and if, when it came time to select your prime minister...." + +"Ha! Ha! Ha! We have an ambitious palace butler." + +"But surely you--" + +"Yes, Prokliam. I understand. I won't deny it. Perhaps I had the +Utalian slain impetuously. But there's still the girl." + +"I'll fetch her at once, majesty." + +"And if," mused Volna, no longer aware of the seneschal's presence, +"we could find another stranger, a man, to accompany the body of +Prince Jlomec on the Journey of No Return, not only the palace, but +the people as well would love me. A stranger...." + +"Take me to your King," Bram Forest told the palace guard. + +The guard smirked. "Do you think any stranger in the realm is granted +an audience with King Bontarc, fool?" + +"It is a matter of life and death." + +"But whose life and death?" demanded the guard, roaring with laughter. +"Yours, idiot?" + +"It is about Ylia the Wayfarer." + +"I know of no Ylia the Wayfarer. Begone, dolt!" + +"It is about Prince Jlomec." + +The guard's eyes narrowed. The word had been passed by no less a +person than Prokliam the seneschal that anyone with information +concerning the death of the royal Prince should be brought at once not +to Bontarc but to Princess Volna. Could the guard, could he, Porfis, +do less? + +"Very well," he said. "Come with me." + +Unarmed, but aware of his giant's strength and the mission which had +seen him spend the first hundred years of his life in a crypt on +Earth, Bram Forest went with the guard. + +The way was long, through chambers in which priceless tapestries +hung, through narrow, musty corridors into which the light of day +barely penetrated, through rooms in which ladies in waiting and +courtiers talked and joked, up bare stone stairs and through heavy +wooden doors which Porfis the guard opened with a key which hung at +his belt. The doors opened slowly. + +Bram Forest entered a large room. It was, he could see at a glance, a +woman's bower. Someone was standing at the far end of the room, in +shadow. He squinted. He took two slow steps into the room. He began to +run. + +"Ylia! Ylia!" he cried. + +Too late he saw the fetters binding her arms. Too late he saw her bite +savagely at something and twist her neck and spit the gag from her +mouth. Too late he heard her cry: + +"Bram! Bram Forest! Behind you!" + +He turned barely in time to see Porfis the guard, his whip-sword +raised overhead hilt-first. He lifted his arm, but it was swept aside +in the downward rush of the sword. Something exploded behind his eyes +and all eternity seemed to open beneath his feet. He plunged into +blackness with Ylia's name on his lips. + + * * * * * + +Unconscious, he was taken with Ylia through subterranean passages to +the Royal Dock on the River of Ice. The barge with Jlomec's embalmed +body waited. It was very cold on the river. The Place of the Dead +beckoned from the unseen end of the Journey of No Return. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +_Land Beyond the Stars_ + + +At first Retoc the Abarian was too stunned by what he witnessed to +think coherently. With the other Tarthians of royal blood he had +received an unexpected summons to appear at the Royal Dock on the +River of Ice and, before he could even try to fathom what it was +about, an escort of Nadian guards had come to fetch him. + +It was cold and murky on the banks of the River of Ice. The two men, +Retoc and Hultax had arrived barely in time to see them unfastening +the hawsers of the Royal Barge. Curious, he pushed closer through the +crowd of nobles. Suddenly, before the barge was quite unmoored, as it +swayed and rocked on the currents of the river, Nadian soldiers +appeared with a platform on poles slung across their shoulders, the +usual means of intra-city transportation for Nadian royalty. But this +was no royalty Retoc saw on the platform, although they were dressed +as royalty. + +The woman, conscious and bound hand and foot, was the Virgin of the +Wayfarers who had witnessed Prince Jlomec's death. The man, +unconscious, his head propped high on pillows, was the white giant who +once on the Plains of Ofrid had almost strangled Retoc. + +A hatred such as he had never known flashed through Retoc's brain. He +was so close he could see the gentle up-and-down motion of the giant's +chest as he breathed. Then, beyond the platform, he saw Volna. Volna +smiled at him. The platform bobbed by, was placed on the barge at the +foot of Jlomec's bier. The remaining hawsers were cut loose. + +There was, Retoc thought triumphantly, no return from the Place of the +Dead. + +But still, the white giant had recovered from what looked like certain +death once, had vanished abruptly and fantastically when he would have +died again. What was good enough for Volna the Beautiful was not +necessarily good enough for Retoc of Abaria. He watched only long +enough to see the royal barge pushed out into the icy currents of the +river, then he turned and made his way to the second tier of +observers, where Hultax stood among the lesser nobility and the +military officers of the planet Tarth. He found Hultax and whispered +for a time in his ear. + + * * * * * + +Hultax's face blanched. "But lord," he protested, "there is no return ... +it is obvious the man will die ... you couldn't expect me to...." Hultax, +frightened, confused, could neither think clearly nor express himself +properly. His mouth hung open. + +[Illustration: The boar charged while death and the Golden Ape stood +grinning.] + +"Earlier, Hultax," Retoc said with a hard smile, "you craved action. I +give you action. Take a boat. There are some moored down-river for the +use of Nadian priests on their religious pilgrimages to the banks +where the stilt-birds dwell. Overtake the royal barge. Board it. Slay +the man and the woman." + +"But I--the Place of the Dead...." + +"Fool!" hissed Retoc. "I didn't ask you to visit the Place of the +Dead. That's up to you. If you slay them first, on the River of Ice, +and can bring back proof ... but the longer we talk, the further they +are. You'll go?" + +It was phrased as a question; actually, it was a command. Grim-faced, +the whip-sword trailing at his side, Hultax left the crowd of soldiers +and made his way downstream. A few moments later he had poled a wooden +skiff out into the icy current and went down-river in pursuit of the +royal barge. + + * * * * * + +The guards had unbound Ylia's fetters on the barge, knowing she could +never swim for safety in the waters of the River of Ice. She sat now +at the foot of Jlomec's bier, with Bram Forest's handsome head +cushioned on her lap. It was very cold there on the river. Wind blew, +rustling the reeds which grew along the bank. They had long since +emerged from the river's underground cavern. The swift current carried +them now through a country of ice, a tundra. The reeds, twice as tall +as a man, seemed to thrive on the riverbanks. They swallowed +everything. + +Bram Forest opened his eyes, and looked at her, and smiled. He tried +to sit up, wincing as pain knifed through his head. "We seem to make a +habit of this," he said, smiling again. + +"Shh, you mustn't talk." + +She leaned close. He could smell the animal perfume of her body, like +musk and jasmine. Impulsively, she kissed him softly on the lips. His +arm went around her neck. He pulled her head down and drank deeply of +her. + +"Why ..." she began, all breathless. + +"Because I love you. I think I loved you the first moment I saw you. +But I didn't know it then." He laughed softly, gently, and she did not +know why this should be so. + +"Why do you laugh?" + +"I was an infant, the son of the Queen. Of Queen Evalla. Portox the +scientist fled with me, the last of the royal Ofridian blood, to the +other side of the solar system, to a world the twin of this, a world +we never see because the sun always stands between us, a world called +Earth. There I would wait until maturity. There I would be given the +strength and the wisdom I needed. And then I would return to Tarth and +right the ancient wrong. Well, I have returned. I love you. It is +enough, Ylia. I want to think of the future, not the past." + +Ylia let him kiss her again. "Isn't it the same, the future and the +past? Aren't they one? I too am of Ofridian blood, Bram Forest, of the +lesser nobility. There are hundreds of us, living nomadic lives on the +Ofridian Plains, where once our great nation stood." + +"I didn't know that. It wasn't in Portox's training. Now Portox is +dead. I buried him on this world called Earth. He could not even come +back to his native Tarth." + +"Darling, don't you see? That's exactly why the ancient wrong must be +righted, why Retoc must pay for his infamous deeds. So Portox and the +millions of other Ofridians, slain, all slain, can sleep eternally in +peace. You are their champion." + +"But revenge? What is revenge if--" + +"You are the champion of the future too! Don't you see, oh, don't you? +Of all the unborn tomorrows when the Ofridian nation may live again. +Of all the unborn tomorrows when the nations of Tarth can live +together in peace and harmony. Don't you understand that?" + +"It's funny. I try to see my mother's face. Queen Evalla. But all I +see is you. She's the past, Ylia. You're the future." He held her +lightly. + +"There is no future for anyone as long as Retoc the Abarian rules, and +dreams of Tarth, all Tarth, as his domain." + +Bram Forest stood up. The cold winds blew. He looked at the blue-cold +body of Jlomec, lying in state, at the ice-choked river, at the banks +of rustling reeds. He did not have to ask where they were. He knew. +"Perhaps," he said at last. "I only mean that if I do this thing it +will be more to see that future generations live in peace than to +bring vengeance on a power-mad Abarian." + +"Oh, Bram! That's what I wanted you to say. I wanted to hear you say +that. For tomorrow! For all our tomorrows." + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest walked to the rail of the barge, and gripped it, and +looked out over the ice-flows. He recited: + + "An ape, a boar, a stallion, + A land beyond the stars. + A Virgin's feast, a raging beast, + A prison without bars." + +"Why, what an unusual poem!" Ylia cried. Then: "Hold me close, it's so +cold. And I'm afraid, Bram Forest...." + +"Of the Place of the Dead?" + +"Yes, yes. The Place of the Dead." + +"It and the poem are entwined," Bram Forest said musingly. "I know +they are. Together, they're my destiny." + +"And the destiny of all Tarth?" + +"Perhaps. Portox liked to think so, I guess." + +"I like to think so, Bram Forest." She smiled up at him tremulously. +"And my destiny as well." + +"Ylia," he asked abruptly, "what do you know about the Golden Ape? You +mentioned it to me once, when you thought I ... well, when you thought +I endangered your virginity." + +"Why, nothing beyond what the legends say." + +"And what do the legends say?" + +"It is written in the most ancient of our religious beliefs that the +messenger to the Place of the Dead is a Golden Ape. Naturally, in +these same beliefs, a defiled virgin is supposed to kill herself. +Thus, in a way of speaking, she goes to the Golden Ape. You see?" + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest smiled down at her. "What would you think if I told you +the Golden Ape was real? If I told you that there actually was a Place +of the Dead?" + +"For the spirits of the departed?" Ylia asked in a very small voice. + +"No. Man can't presume to know about that. It's in the realm of the +gods. I mean a place which somehow borders on Tarth and yet ... yet is +beyond the stars. A place which, when wayfarers returned from it +miraculously long and long ago, gave rise to the legends." + +"Borders on Tarth ... yet beyond the stars? How can this be?" + +"Portox found it and explained it with his science," Bram Forest +insisted. "Earth and Tarth, twin worlds, yet so different, forever +unseen one by the other, on opposite sides of the sun. They're unique in +the solar system, Ylia. Portox thought--if the memory he planted in my +mind is correct--that they're unique in the entire universe. Somehow, a +million million years ago, a world split, becoming two worlds. But +ordinary space ... I don't know, the memory is confused ... could not +hold them. There is a warp of space, a place where space bends. Learn to +master the warp and you go instantly from Tarth to Earth, or back again. +That was the way Portox brought me, as an infant, to Earth." He held +aloft his arm, showing her the steel-silver disc. "With this I can +travel back and forth at will. Without it, either Earth or Tarth would +be my prison...." His voice trailed off. + +Then he blurted: "'A prison without bars!'" + +"What...." + +"The prophetic poem. Part of the poem. Anyway, Ylia, Earth and Tarth +exist at either end of this space warp, connected thus through normal +space where there should be no connection. And someplace along the +warp--where ordinary space-time distances don't matter...." + +"I'm sorry, Bram Forest. I don't understand you." + + * * * * * + +"I'm not sure I understand myself. Tarth is a primitive world. It is +beyond our science. It is even beyond the science of Earth, I believe, +and Earth is a millennium ahead of Tarth in its development. But +Portox knew. Anyhow, someplace along the warp--in ordinary distances +along the space-time continuum perhaps a billion light years distant +from either Earth or Tarth, is a third world. On the warp it is very +close. The River of Ice leads to it. We call it the Place of the +Dead." + +"But the Golden Ape--?" + +"--inhabits the so-called Place of the Dead. Their world was dying, +but Portox saved them. I think ... the science is beyond me ... the +entropy of their galaxy was running down ... their world perishing, +freezing ... when somehow with his great science Portox claimed for +their use the unavailable energy in their ... their thermodynamic +system, and saved them." + +"Why do you frown so?" + +"Words. Words only. I don't understand. I can only act." + +"You can act," Ylia said, hugging herself tight against him. "For +Tarth and the future." + +"For Tarth and the future," Bram Forest said, but he hardly heard the +words. + +Ahead of them in the cold clear air a wall seemed to rise. It came up +so suddenly, and, in fact, the air had cleared so suddenly from the +accustomed murkiness, that Ylia was afraid. "It is in the legend," she +whispered. "The Black Wall, Bram Forest. And beyond it--the Place of +the Dead." + +"More accurately, an edge-on view of the space-warp, where it meets +the normal world." But although he spoke the words of Portox, Bram +Forest did not sound too confident. + +"We're coming closer to it, Bram. Hold me!" + +He held her. There was nothing else he could do. The current swept the +barge on inexorably. The Black Wall reared ahead of them, frowned down +at them, seemed to block off all the rest of the universe and all +reality whether of Earth or of Tarth.... + +The barge penetrated the wall. Black and solid-seeming, solid as +stone, it yet offered no resistance. The barge disappeared within it. + +Behind the barge, rope-trailing so close that its prow almost scraped +the royal wood, was a skiff in which, shaking and afraid yet somehow +triumphant because he had heard Bram Forest's strange words, was +Hultax the Abarian. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +_The Golden Ape_ + + +Hultax the Abarian shook himself. He had lost consciousness as every +nerve-ending in his body had screamed with pain. Did this have +something to do with the warp--warping?--Bram Forest had mentioned. +Hultax the Abarian did not know. But he did know that he was alive, as +alive as anyone could be or had a right to be in the Place of the +Dead. And he did know, gratefully, that the intense cold of the River +of Ice was gone. + +He wondered how long he had been unconscious. He blinked his eyes. A +balmy, pink-tinted sky. A pink sun, not on the horizon, when indeed +the sun might be pink, but overhead. On the horizon--Hultax blinked +again and thought he was mad--a second sun, smaller, paler, the ghost +of green in color. + +The royal barge was in ruins. It had piled up on some rocks. The bier +of Jlomec, Prince of Nadia, had been thrown clear. He could see it on +the bank, also in ruins. He stood up unsteadily, then waded through +the shallow water in which he'd regained consciousness, over to the +wreck of the royal barge. The fingers of his right hand were poised +inches from the hilt of his whip-sword. Slay Bram Forest and the girl +if the wreck hadn't already killed them? He shook his head. Bram +Forest knew more about this strange place, this world of the pink sun +and the green sun, than he did. + + * * * * * + +He climbed over the wreckage, and finally came upon the two bodies. He +went down on his knees beside them. They were covered with blood. They +were broken--broken being the only word that could describe them. They +had been crushed, perhaps by falling timber, perhaps by the bier of +Jlomec as it hurtled over the side. There probably was not a bone in +either of their bodies, at least a major bone, which had not been +crushed. + +They were dead. + +With a craftiness which surprised even himself, Hultax remembered the +dead Bram Forest's words. It was the bracelet with the shining disc +which gave Bram Forest the power to appear and disappear at will, as +Retoc had described. Or, as Bram Forest had put it, to journey between +the worlds. Carefully, Hultax took the bracelet--it was miraculously +intact--from the crushed, broken arm of Bram Forest's corpse. He +circled his own arm with it and felt, or imagined he felt, an +instantaneous source of power surge through his body. Without looking +back at the broken bodies of the man and woman who had found love and, +finding it, died in each other's arms, he made his way from the river +bank across a pleasant green meadow. Far in the distance he saw a dark +blur which looked like a forest. It was many miles away, almost at the +limit of vision. + +Yet, incredibly, it seemed to rush up at him. It was not merely that +Hultax the Abarian walked with a warrior's long stride toward the +forest. It was as if the forest rushed toward him. A different world. +He remembered Bram Forest's words vaguely. A warped world? Something +like that. Naturally, Hultax was afraid. This was the Place of the +Dead, wasn't it? But still, Bram Forest's cool if little-understood +scientific explanation quieted his fear. Besides, didn't he have the +bracelet-disc-amulet? What could happen to him now? + +Bylanus the Golden Ape, only two-thousand seven hundred years old, +quite young as Golden Apes went, saw the wreck of the barge from a +great distance. He extended his vision through warp-space and spotted +the tiny figure of a man trudging away from the wreckage. Bylanus +squinted, and shifted his buttocks on the saddle. Bylanus was fifteen +feet tall and weighed eight-hundred pounds. The steed he rode, about +twice the size of an Earth elephant, looked like a blown-up cross +between a Tarthian stad and an Earth horse. + +Bylanus stared, then sat up very straight in his stirrups. Something +gleamed on the man's arm. Bylanus gaped. + +It was the bracelet of Portox-saviour. + +Bylanus used his will to psychokinesthize the man. The man, still +apparently trudging along, sped toward him. + +Bylanus climbed down from his stallion and prepared to bow, all +fifteen feet and eight hundred pounds of him, before the man. + +At first Hultax could think only of fleeing. Abruptly before him stood +a monster-stad and a man. No, not a man. A man-like figure pelted with +soft, smooth, lusterous, golden fur. The stad--the not-quite-stad--was +five times bigger than a stad had a right to be. The man, even as he +unexpectedly bent before Hultax, was almost three times Hultax's +height. Man? No, not a man. Hultax, rooted with fear to the spot, +unable to run, opened his mouth to cry out. But his vocal chords were +paralyzed. + + * * * * * + +This was no man. It was the Golden Ape of legend, the Golden Ape of +the Place of the Dead.... + +"Portox-saviour," said the Golden Ape quite distinctly. Then he +pointed a forefinger almost the size of Hultax' forearm at the +bracelet Hultax wore. + +Hultax took a deep breath and could feel the strength returning to his +legs. Like all military officers, he was an opportunist. He had to be, +for in battle one had to seize upon opportunity as soon as it +appeared, if one were to win at all.... + +Hultax said, his voice surprisingly steady: "You may rise." + +The Ape did so. The stallion pawed the ground, and great clods flew. +Hultax was trembling, but the Ape, speaking in Hultax' own language, +in the language of all Tarth, said: "Are you really from Portox? It +seems like only yesterday he was here although, of course, your people +and mine measure time differently." + +"I am from Portox," Hultax said. He wished he could keep his knees +from trembling. + +"Portox-saviour said that one day a man would come, to ask us for help +even as Portox helped us in our time of troubles," the Ape proclaimed. + +"Yes," Hultax muttered. + +"What kind of help do you wish?" + +Hultax stared, saying nothing. He did not know what to say. He lacked +the imagination to make something up. Somehow, he knew it was terribly +important. He knew without knowing how he knew that his life might +depend on his answer. + +"Well?" the Golden Ape asked gently. + +"I ... that is...." + +The Ape's eyes narrowed as he looked down at Hultax. "You _are_ from +Portox?" + +"Yes, yes. Of course." + +"I see you have the bracelet." + +"Yes, here is the bracelet." + +"And the cloak of Portox?" demanded the Ape. "The cloak Portox +foretold you would wear?" + +"I--I lost the cloak in my journey," lied Hultax, not knowing about +any cloak. There, he thought, that ought to satisfy him. + +But the Ape said: "There was no cloak." + +"No cloak? No cloak!" + +"I made that up, to test you. You're not from Portox." + +The stallion pawed the ground and looked up and then down at Hultax, +snorting. Hultax, trembling, wished he could melt into the ground. + + * * * * * + +"Still," Hultax said, shaking, "I am from Portox. You tried to trick +me. You...." + +"We shall see," the Ape said, still pleasantly. "Come." + +The ground rolled, or so it seemed to Hultax. The forest loomed ahead +of him, then trees were all around him, then they stood on a rolling +plain again. + +"Where--did you take me?" + +The Ape smiled. He seemed quite human despite his size, despite his +fur. The stallion pawed the ground impatiently. + +"Behold," said the Ape. + +Something on the fringe of the forest screamed. It was an awful sound +and it made the hackles stand upright on Hultax's bull-neck. He drew +his whip-sword and faced the forest. + +"Well, man," chided the Golden Ape, "and do you need a weapon? Portox +told us we would know his man because his man, unarmed, would be able +to conquer the wild boar of the Kranuian Wood. And you?" + +The screaming came again. Terrified, Hultax did not fling his weapon +aside. Wild boar? What wild boar ... time enough later ... to convince +the Ape.... + +The boar emerged. It was almost as big as a man and covered with dirty +gray hair. Its tusks were two feet long. The stallion whinnied but +remained perfectly still. The Golden Ape waited and watched. The boar +charged. + +Hultax's right arm blurred and the mobile blade of the whip-sword +whizzed through air and struck the boar's meaty shoulder. The boar +screamed, and came on. + +It was, Hultax realized in despair, only a superficial wound. The boar +came on, bleeding, furious. He tried to lunge aside. He yanked at the +whip-sword and it came loose, making him lose his balance. The boar +reached him, screaming. + +Never slackening its pace, the boar gored him, and wheeled about, +clods flying, to gore again. Hultax' voice bubbled in his throat. The +boar was on him again, its tusks sharp as razors.... + +Finally it stood clear, nervously eyeing Bylanus and the stallion. +Then it turned and, slowly, with great dignity, retreated into the +Kranuian Wood, which was its home. + +The man, Bylanus saw at a glance, was dead. As an imposter, he had +deserved to die. Bylanus quickly dug a shallow grave with a large, +sharp-edged stone, and rolled the body in. As he did so he noticed +that the bracelet--the bracelet of Portox-saviour, or, more probably, +a copy of that bracelet intended to trick him--had been battered, +punctured, and broken by the boar. Even if it had been the real +bracelet, the amazing steel-silver disc of Portox-saviour, it would +now be useless. Sighing, Bylanus buried it with Hultax' body. + + * * * * * + +Bylanus mounted his steed and galloped toward the river. He could have +psychokinesthized himself there, but the day was brilliant and clear, +and he was in no great hurry. At last he reached the wreck of the +royal barge of Nadia. He did not pause to examine Jlomec's bier, he +had seen such funerary devices before. + +Something in the wreck itself confused him. There was a man. There was +a woman. That fit the ritual--two servants to accompany dead royalty +on its way. This was the custom of the Nadians. But the man.... + +On the man's crushed arm, the arm completely covered with blood, was a +mark. It was as if something--say, a band of metal--had protected the +arm at one point. For circling the upper arm was a band of skin not +bloody like the rest, wide in the shape of a disc, then narrow all +around. + +The bracelet of Portox-saviour! thought Bylanus. Had this dead man +worn it? Had the imposter, now slain by the wild boar, taken it from +him? + +_Oh Portox-saviour, Portox-saviour, how long dead? Am I too late, is +it too late for this man, your heir...?_ + +As gently as he could, the huge Bylanus lifted the two bodies and put +them in his saddle-bags. He faced the Kranuian Wood astride. The +stallion held its head up, alert, ready. They psychokinesthized. + +And disappeared in a twinkling with Bram Forest and Ylia, both of whom +were dead. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +_The Raging Beast_ + + +Although once mighty Ofridia of Tarth and certainly the nations of +Earth had outstripped Bylanus' world in the physical science, the +planet of the pink and green suns was supreme in biology. Thus had it +needed Portox' help, a hundred Earth-Tarthian years before, when +run-down entropy threatened its very existence. On the other hand, +through biology, the science of Bylanus' world had come a long way in +the conquest of death and destroyed human tissue. So it was that with +some faint ray of confidence Bylanus brought the two broken bodies to +the single large city of his park-like planet. There, tenderly, he +left them in the care of specialists at the regeneration station, and +began his long vigil. + +... sensation and movement. + +Hardly anything at first. Bram Forest dreamed of dreaming. The motion +was gentle, warm, comfortable. + +The glow of life and not the cold breath of death.... + +With it, with the first stirrings of regeneration, came the shadow of +pain. But it was far away and almost impalpable, pain understood +rather than felt. And slowly the pain departed. There came a time when +Bram Forest realized he was not breathing, was, indeed, immersed in +liquid. + +He floated, helpless, serene, strangely content. + +... Until, with the first signs of impatience, strength flooded +through his regenerated limbs. + + * * * * * + +"In every cell of a living creature's body," Orro the bio-technician +explained to Bylanus, "there is the potential for complete and perfect +regeneration. For, whereas the eye is an organ to see with, in every +one of the millions of tiny cells making up the eye is the +gene-pattern not merely for the eye but for the rest of the body. +Theoretically then, Bylanus, if we are given but a single intact cell +of a living--or once-living--organism, we ought to be able to +reproduce the organism in its entirety. This is not supernatural. It +is not creation of life: we can create nothing. The secret of creation +is not ours here at this laboratory. But we have mastered the secret +of recreation. Nurtured by the life-giving fluid, their development +controlled by their own genes, the two human beings you brought are +being made whole again." + +Bylanus nodded. Orro the bio-technician was loquacious and spoke +quickly, confidently, with mild pedantic enthusiasm. As for Bylanus, +he awaited the regeneration of the man who had worn Portox-saviour's +bracelet. He looked at the bodies in the vat, hanging upside-down, +floating head down, rocking gently in the warm, circulating +life-fluid. He waited.... + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest took his first breath. The first thing he said was: "Ylia, +Ylia...." + +Bylanus met them after the vat had been drained and a door had opened +for them. He told them what had happened, including the death of +Hultax. Then he added: + +"As far as I am concerned, there can be no doubt as to your identity. +But the bracelet is lost forever and there will be some who doubt your +identity." Abruptly, he seemed to change the subject: "How do you +feel?" + +"Good as new," Bram Forest said. He was naked. He was tingling with +health and well-being, as if he'd awakened from a long, health-giving +sleep. He looked at Ylia, her skin glowing, her hair gleaming, her +glorious body a shining promise. Then he frowned. Bylanus' words took +meaning. "You want me to fight the Boar of the Kranuian Wood, is that +it?" + +"Yes," Bylanus said. + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest shrugged. "Coming here was not my idea, although Portox +somehow realized it would be so." + +"Slay the Kranuian Boar, proving your identity without question, and +all the Golden Apes will be yours to command." + +"Yes, but did Portox really feel I must wreak upon Abaria and the +Abarians the same destruction they brought to Ofridia? If I destroy +Retoc the Abarian responsible for what happened a hundred years ago, +wouldn't that be enough? I don't need the Golden Apes for that. I can +do it myself. I must do it myself." + +"Tarth," said Bylanus, "is a world of warring nations. But here on the +planet of two suns we live in peace. We are strong but know not the +meaning of war. Is that what Portox-saviour wished for your people?" + +"Perhaps," Bram Forest said. + +"Then," Ylia told him, speaking for the first time, "even if you slay +Retoc, his legions will not willingly give up their arms." + +Bram Forest nodded slowly. The idea of a Tarth-wide holocaust did not +appeal to him, but if all Tarth could be shown the folly of war when +its most powerful army went down to defeat before the Golden Apes.... + +"Thank you," Bram Forest said humbly to the Golden Ape. He had a +vision--almost mystical--of a time in the future, perhaps the near +future, when all Tarth knew nothing but the ways of peace. "When we +return on the River of Ice we want you to accompany us. I'm ready to +meet your boar." + +Ylia held him. Tears glistened in her eyes. "Bram Forest," she said +tremulously. "Now that I've found you, I don't want you to be +hurt--ever again." + +Bram Forest responded: "Don't worry, Ylia. If Portox hadn't known I'd +be more than a match for the boar, he never would have established its +conquest as proof of my identity." + +"But ... but don't you see, you've been regenerated, as Bylanus said. +You may not be as strong as you were." + +Bram Forest looked at Bylanus, who shrugged. Bylanus lifted them when +Bram Forest nodded. The park-like terrain flashed by. A dark forest +loomed. The Kranuian Wood.... + +Close at hand, an animal screamed. + + * * * * * + +"How do I look, Prokliam?" Volna asked her seneschal. + +He bowed before her. "You are lovely, O My Queen." + +Volna smiled. She wore the royal purple of Nadia in a gown which fell, +clinging as if sentient and voluptuous, to the wonderful curves of her +body. "I'm not your Queen yet," she said, laughing. + +"A mere formality, My Queen." + +"I am Volna, Virgin Princess of Nadia, sister to Bontarc the King." + +"Huh!" snorted the old man. "That is your official title. But what do +titles matter? When this day ends you will rule all Tarth side by side +with Retoc the Abarian." + +Yes, Volna thought. With Retoc the Abarian. But how long would _that_ +alliance last? Would either of them be content to share power with the +other? Wouldn't there come a day when she would give the nod to +Prokliam and the legions would march against those of Abaria chanting, +"All power to Volna! All power to Volna the Beautiful!" The thought of +power, power over strong men, over leaders of nations, made her giddy +with desire. + +All the royal blood of Tarth was gathered in Nadia City now, for the +funeral games. She knew Retoc's plan: her spies had confirmed it. +Retoc's legions would slay the rulers of the multiple nations and +clans of Tarth and one by one, stunned, leaderless, the small nations +would flock to the banners of Abaria and Nadia. If, then, Retoc had in +mind to betray her and claim all power for himself, her own legions +would be rested and ready. And Bontarc? she thought. What of Bontarc, +her brother? + +As if he could read her thoughts, Prokliam said, "I have arranged the +lists for the dueling which will end the games, majesty. Bontarc, as +you know, expects a duel to the first blood with some competent +whip-swordsman." Prokliam licked his thin, dry lips. "He will be +confronted, instead by a duel to the death with Retoc, the best +swordsman of all Tarth. To flee would mean cowardice. The army would +then be loyal to you, majesty. To remain and fight would mean only one +thing." + +"Death," said Volna softly. + +She could hear the legions. The legions seemed to chant in her ears: +"All power to Volna the Beautiful!" + +She thought of the day's funeral games. Games for the memory of Jlomec +the Prince, indeed. They were games for her, for Volna. They would be +a party celebrating the rise to power of Volna, Virgin Princess of +Nadia. But of course neither Nadia nor Bontarc its rightful ruler knew +that yet. And when they did, Retoc and his legions would make sure +they could do nothing about it. + +The Games would be a feast. Volna's feast.... + +_All power to Volna._ + + * * * * * + +The Kranuian Boar came screaming from the forest. + +Its small, close-set eyes found Bram at once. If it had seen Bylanus +and Ylia, it ignored them. Four hundred pounds of muscle and sinew, it +made, stomping and pawing, for Bram. + +He side-stepped nimbly, saw the massive head go down, felt one of the +wicked tusks brush his thigh with fire. He stumbled and almost fell. +If he fell, he would not rise again. The boar would finish him first. + +"Bram Forest!" Ylia screamed. + +He got up and grasped the tusks. He was dragged along, furrowing the +ground. The huge head snorted close to his own. The boar's breath +almost made him gag. Then, before the boar could smash him into a +tree-trunk, he let go and rolled over and over and quickly stood up. + +The boar did not wait for him to regain his breath, but came charging +at once. This time Bram Forest waited until the last possible instant +before the tusks would impale him. Then he leaped, twisting around in +air. It was a prodigious leap and brought a word of exclamation even +to Bylanus' lips. He landed on the hard-muscled back of the boar and +at once clamped his knees firmly against its sinewy flanks as if he +had been trained all his life for this job. + +The boar reared and bucked and swung its great body from side to side, +trying to dislodge its tormentor. But Bram Forest clung as if all +Tarth depended on the outcome of this contest--as, perhaps, it did. + +The boar ducked its head. Bram Forest fell forward, but his knees +locked. The boar rolled over, but moving so swiftly that the eye could +hardly follow him, Bram Forest squirmed out from under and was seated +astride again when the boar got to its feet. + +Then, leaning forward, Bram Forest grasped the two tusks and began to +pull the boar's head up and back toward him. + +The animal's screaming became squealing. Slowly the head went back, +the short, almost non-existent neck strained, the beady eyes darted. + +Then there was a loud snapping sound and the boar squealed once and +fell over on its side with a broken neck. + +Bram Forest, panting, the muscles of his legs quivering, stood clear. +Bylanus touched his great golden head to the ground. Ylia ran to Bram +Forest and flung her arms about his neck. "I was afraid," she said. "I +was so afraid you would be hurt." + +Bram Forest kissed her. She clung to him, sobbing his name when their +lips parted. Finally Bram Forest disengaged himself and said: + +"The poem, Ylia. We've seen an ape, a boar, a stallion. This world is +the 'land beyond the stars.' But was the boar also the raging beast?" + +Ylia shrugged. Bylanus stood up and told Bram Forest, "The Golden Apes +are ready to serve you in any way you wish." + +Three worlds, Bram Forest thought. One which Portox had saved from +doom, one which had been the haven in which Bram Forest had grown to +manhood, and one in which all their destinies soon would be written. + +"Then Tarth thanks you," Bram Forest told the Golden Ape Bylanus. +"Assemble your fighters. We're going back up the River of Ice." + +"To Nadia City?" Ylia asked. + +Bram Forest nodded grimly. "To Nadia City--and Retoc." + + * * * * * + +Bontarc, King of Nadia, asked his royal guest, "You like the Games so +far?" + +They sat, with Princess Volna, in the box of honor at the Amphitheater +of Nadia. "Aye, I like them," Retoc said slowly. "But sire, I would +like them much better if they were not to commemorate the passing of +your noble brother, the Prince Jlomec." + +Bontarc nodded his head in gratitude. "That was well-spoken, Retoc," +he said. + +Retoc went on: "Have you any idea who killed him so treacherously? +Jlomec was not a fighting man." + +"None," Bontarc admitted. He missed entirely the smile which passed +between Retoc and Princess Volna. + +"Well," Bontarc said after a while, "if you will excuse me, I must go +down below to prepare for the dueling. Under the circumstances I'm +hardly inclined to participate in the Games, but my people expect it +of me." + +"Yes, brother," Volna said softly. "They do. Oh, they do." + +And Bontarc went. Retoc looked at Volna. "I'd best get ready myself," +he said. Volna nodded her lovely head. + +A blood-lusting animal cry welled up from a hundred thousand throats +as the gladiators of Nadia marched out across the sands of the +amphitheater to do battle with the fierce snow-sloths of the Plains of +Ice. + +While several jeks from the Gates of Ice, Retoc's legions waited.... + + * * * * * + +"Wait here," Bram Forest told Bylanus, who had led them safely, along +with the vanguard of the Golden Apes, back up the River of Ice. + +"What will you do, Bram Forest?" + +"According to Ylia, we can trust Bontarc of Nadia. He's a fighting +man, but he craves peace for all Tarth." + +"I'm sure of it," Ylia said. "Bontarc didn't send us to the Place of +the Dead. Princess Volna did. And long ago, according to the stories +the Wayfarers of Ofrid tell, Bontarc and your mother, Queen Evalla, +were allies striving to establish universal peace throughout Tarth. +Besides, despite his civility and fairness, Bontarc losses no love on +Retoc of Abaria." + +"And if you need us?" Bylanus asked. + +"We'll get a signal through to you," Bram Forest said. With Ylia he +climbed into a skiff and poled it out into the river. + +Now the riverbanks were deserted, except for the solitary stilt-birds, +tall as men, wading out into the frigid water, their low-pitched calls +all but swallowed by the sound the cold wind made rustling through the +river rushes. + +After a while the skiff came to a bend in the river. It was the last +turn before the Gates of Ice--and Nadia City. Here the wind blew more +strongly, and there was a section of rushes which had been cleared, +cut probably by an Ice Fields nomad who had used the tall rushes as +fuel. + +"Look!" Ylia cried suddenly, startled. + +Through the gap in the rushes, at a distance of two or three jeks +across the flat plain from the river, Bram Forest saw an armed +encampment. There were tents with flying standards, tethered stads, +pyramids of stacked spears like hayricks, and pacing sentries. + +"What can it mean?" Ylia asked. "Those standards are Abarian." + +"Retoc," Bram Forest said. He lifted the pole and felt the mud of the +river-bottom cling to it before it came clear. He allowed the skiff to +drift toward the bank. "Retoc's planning treachery. We'll have to go +back and alert the Golden Apes. Bylanus and his Apes can destroy +Retoc's legions before they even march on Nadia City." + +"But we can't go back, Bram. If Retoc's army is here, ready, then +what's happening in Nadia City? Who can say what Retoc is doing? +You'll have to go ahead and stop him--or at least delay him. I'll go +back for Bylanus." + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest shook his head. "I can't let you go alone, Ylia. Not with +the Abarian legions so close." + +"But I must, don't you see?" + +Bram Forest frowned. There did not seem any other way, but he was +reluctant. "I love you, Ylia. I couldn't let--" + +"What happens in Nadia City today is more important than our love, +Bram Forest! What would our love mean if Retoc the Abarian ruled all +Tarth?" + +"Then you take the skiff," Bram Forest said finally. "I can make my +way to the city along the bank." + +"No. The army is still encamped. They won't do anything for some time +yet. See? All their tents are still standing." + +That was true enough. "Besides," Ylia went on, "we don't know what +Retoc is planning in the city. You can reach it faster by skiff. I'll +go back for Bylanus on foot." + +The logic of what Ylia said could not be refuted. With sinking heart +Bram Forest helped her from the skiff. He kissed her quickly. "I love +you, Ylia," he said. + +"And I love you, Bram Forest." + +"Be careful. Keep hidden in the rushes. Tell Bylanus to use his +judgment in attacking or waiting for Retoc's legions to make the first +move." + +Ylia's pretty head nodded. Then she ducked into the rushes and was +gone. Bram Forest looked after her until the rustling in the rushes +stopped, then he poled the skiff once more out into the center of the +river and sped swiftly toward the Gates of Ice. + +No one stopped him. No guards were posted. He beached the skiff and +sprinted through the gates and through the city and up its biggest +hill toward the amphitheater. Then, only a jek's distance away, he +heard the crowd at the funeral games. They roared suddenly in a frenzy +of excitement and another part of Portox's poem slipped into place. +The crowd watching the games in Nadia City was the raging beast, +blood-lusting, expectant, animal-savage, whipped into a fever of +goggle-eyed enthusiasm and ready to move, _en-masse_, in whatever +direction a strong leader might push them. + +A strong leader.... + +Retoc? Or Bram Forest? Which one? + + * * * * * + +Pirum the Abarian shifted his weight uncomfortably, leaning down on +the haft of his spear. The whole idea of posting pickets along the +bank of the river seemed unnecessary to him. They could not actually +see the river through the rushes, and they dared not go closer for +fear of being spotted by whatever traffic moved on the icy waters. +Then what was the point of them standing here, half-frozen with the +cold, waiting for an assailant who would never come? + +And while he was thinking thus, the girl virtually walked into Pirum's +arms. At first he heard a faint rustling in the rushes and, before he +could investigate, the tallest of the dry plants had parted and a +lovely bronze-skinned girl appeared. She turned to run, but Pirum +caught her in his muscular arms and held her despite her struggles. + +She bit his arm and, with an oath, he caught her hair and twisted her +head back. "Who are you?" he said. "Who are you, eh?" + +The girl glowered at him. + +Pirum dragged her along. She continued to struggle. Shaking his head, +he hit her on the jaw with his fist and caught her before she could +fall. Then, swinging her up over his broad shoulder, he stalked +through the rushes toward Nadia City. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +_The Prison Without Bars_ + + +No one tried to stop Bram Forest until he reached the very gates of +the amphitheater. But there a guard with drawn whip-sword barred the +way and demanded: "You don't look Nadian to me. What delegation are +you with, man?" + +Bram Forest had no time to parry words with words. He tried to push +his way past the guard who, too surprised to thrust with his weapon, +used his free hand to grab Bram Forest by the shoulder and spin him +around. Bram Forest drove his left fist into the guard's belly and +heard the whoosh of air escaping from his lungs. + +That was the last thing he heard for some time. A second guard crept +up quietly behind him and struck expertly with the hilt of his +whip-sword just behind the left ear. Bram Forest fell as if the ground +dropped out from under him. + +"By all the fiery gods of Tarth, will you look at that!" the first +guard exclaimed. + +The second guard could only gawk, not comprehending. + +The unconscious man was growing tenuous. + +The first guard in confused alarm, lashed down with the whip-sword. +But its point passed through Bram Forest's now transparent body +without meeting any resistance. + +"Right through him! Right through him!" cried the guard. + +And, by the time he said it, and coiled his sword again, Bram Forest +had vanished. + + * * * * * + +When an urgent message had come for Retoc, the Princess Volna, alone +in the royal box, had decided to investigate the matter herself. She +had to hurry, though. In not many minutes, Retoc and Bontarc would +find themselves face to face on the sands of the amphitheater. +Wouldn't Bontarc be surprised! Too proud to flee, not swordsman enough +to match the mighty Retoc.... + +"Yes, yes, what is it?" she snapped irritably when she entered the +dungeon-like ready-room below the amphitheater sands. She was in a +hurry to return to her box, lest she miss the duel between Bontarc and +Retoc. Alone in the ready-room was a soldier in the uniform of Abaria. + +"Begging your pardon, ma'am," said the soldier. "My message is for +Retoc of Abaria." + +"And I tell you Retoc of Abaria is not here to receive it." Volna +clapped her hands and two of her own guards appeared. "I am the +Princess Volna. Well?" + +Pirum looked at her, at the armed guards flanking her on either side, +at the door through which she had entered, at the ready-room's second +door. "Very well," he said at last, and opened the second door, +beckoning. + +Volna went to the doorway and looked. She gasped involuntarily, hardly +able to believe her eyes. There on the stone floor of a smaller +ready-room, only now regaining consciousness, was the Virgin Wayfarer +of Ofrid, she who had seen Retoc slay Jlomec, she who had been sent by +Volna herself to sure death on the Journey of No Return. Terror +gripped her. + +"What does this mean?" Volna cried. "Where did you find her? Where, +man? Speak!" + +"On the river, ladyship." + +"On the river? Returning from the Place of the Dead?" + +"No, ladyship. Heading toward the Place of the Dead." + +Volna went to the girl and stood over her. "You! What's your name?" + +"Ylia," the girl said. + +"What were you trying to do, Ylia?" + +The girl said nothing. + +Volna called to Pirum, who came at once. "Hit her," Volna said. + +Grasping Ylia by her hair, Pirum struck her face with his open hand. +Her head snapped back. The mark of his fingers was on her face. She +said nothing. + +"Hit her again," Volna said. + +Pirum struck Ylia a second time. The girl whimpered, but held her +tongue. "Where is your friend, that giant of a man?" Volna asked. + +Again Pirum hit Ylia when she would say nothing. Finally Volna +shrugged. "She'll talk, given enough of that. What's _your_ name, +man?" + +"Pirum, ladyship." + +"Very well, Pirum. My guards and I are returning to our seats. There +is a duel I wouldn't want to miss. All Tarth will reap its +consequences. Meanwhile, stay with this girl and do what you must do +to make her talk. It might be important." + +Pirum bowed. "Yes, ladyship," he said, and watched the others depart. +Then, when they were alone, Ylia surprised him by flying at him, nails +bared, like a wildcat. He fought off her attack and struck her a +savage open-handed blow, and she fell back. At least this, Pirum +thought advancing on her, might be an interesting assignment. + + * * * * * + +"... hit by that cab, mac." + +"You all right?" + +"He's getting up, ain't he?" + +"Jeez, I swear," the sweating taxi driver said to the crowd which had +gathered about the prostrate man, "he popped up outa nowhere. One +second I'm driving along, looking for a fare, the next, he's standing +right in front of me. I almost pushed the brake through the floor, +honest, but--" + +"Ylia," the stricken man said. + +"Hey now, take it easy." + +"What he say, anyhow?" + +"... be going to a costume ball or something. Lookit that outfit he's +wearing, willya? What's he supposed to be, a man from Mars or +something? I read in the papers where Mars was pretty close a while +back. My kid thinks there are...." + +"Aw, shudap about your kid." + +"Need any help, mister?" + +"No. No, thank you. I'm all right." + +"... got a nasty crack on his head, is all. See? See the blood?" + +"He's getting up." + +"... a cop. When you don't want 'em, they're around. Now you need +them, where in heck are they, that's what I wanna know." + +"The bracelet!" the stricken man said in sudden alarm. He stared at +his own right arm in confusion, then his left. His arms were bare. + +"You wasn't wearing no bracelet, mac," someone said. + +"No bracelet," he said. "No bracelet." His eyes looked vague, +confused. + +After a while a policeman came and took in the situation at a glance. +"All right, all right," he bawled. "Step back and givemair, givemair, +will you?" + +The crowd dispersed slowly, and the policeman talked for a while with +the taxi-driver, then with the stricken man. + +"My name?" the stricken man said in answer to a question. "Bram +Forest. Yes, Bram Forest. But I don't have the bracelet. The bracelet +is gone, forever. Without the bracelet I can't...." his voice trailed +off. + +"He drunk?" the policeman asked the cab driver. + +"Search me." + +"'A prison without bars,'" the man recited. "Earth is my prison, +forever. Ylia. Ylia!" + +The driver made a circular motion with his forefinger, in the general +vicinity of his temple. + +"You both better come down the station house with me," the policeman +said. + +"Aw, officer, I'll lose some fares." + +"Anyhow. The guy talks batty, but he don't look drunk. We got to +figure this here out." + +"Ylia," the man said, almost as if the sound were a name and he was +crying out to the owner of that name across an unthinkable abyss. + + * * * * * + +Bontarc, King of Nadia, felt as good as could be expected under the +circumstances. Now that the first shock of bereavement had passed, he +knew no mourning would bring back his dead brother Jlomec. And the sun +of Tarth was hot on the amphitheater sands as Bontarc stood awaiting +his as yet unknown adversary. He flexed and uncoiled his whip-sword, +smiling in expectancy. He was a competent swordsman, among the dozen +or so best in Nadia. The duel-to-first-blood would be just what he +needed. Win or lose, he'd feel a lot better afterwards. And meanwhile, +he was a king, wasn't he? The adulation of the crowd swept down all +around him, lifting his spirits. The corpse of Prince Jlomec, +treacherously slain, seemed very far away--as, indeed, it was.... + +A roar of expectancy went up from a hundred thousand throats as +Bontarc's adversary appeared at the other end of the arena. The sun +was dazzling. At first Bontarc saw the swordsman only as a dot across +the gleaming sands. But now the roar of expectancy had turned to a +groan of dismay, which was followed by a silence, as of death, then an +eager whispered buzzing. Why should this be? Why.... + +The figure came closer on the burning sands. Bontarc squinted. Was it +possible? He felt a tremor go through his body. + +It was Retoc of Abaria! + +"To the death, Bontarc," Retoc said softly, savagely, as they +approached. + +Bontarc shook his head imperceptibly. He was no coward, but knew he +was no match for Retoc and didn't see why he should lay down his life +on the amphitheater sands. "I'll not fight you to the death, Retoc of +Abaria," he said. + +Retoc shrugged as if it weren't very important. "Well," he said +slowly, "if you don't want to kill the slayer of your brother...." + +Bontarc charged. + +Laughing, Retoc was ready for him. + + * * * * * + +"... Please ... please ... you're just wasting your time. I ... won't ... +tell you." + +"No?" Pirum said, panting. He saw the girl through a haze of anger, +frustration, and desire. She was naked, her lips were bloody, but her +eyes still flashed defiance. Pirum, like most Abarians, was something +of a sadist. + +"Oh, you'll talk," he said. "You'll talk." + +"... never...." + +He dug his strong finger cruelly into her tender body. + +"Bram Forest...." she cried. + + * * * * * + +The policeman behind the desk was saying things. Bram Forest heard the +droning voice, but not the words. Ylia, he thought. Ylia. A moment +before, he actually believed he heard her cry out to him in pain. But +that couldn't be. Besides, what could he do about it? He was trapped +forever on Earth, without the bracelet which could send him, almost on +the wings of thought, back to Tarth, to Ylia, to his destiny. + +_I love you, girl of Tarth, he thought. I love you, Ylia, more than +words and more than worlds._ + +Something whisperingly cold plucked at him, and for an instant his +heart was stilled. + +_Ylia!_ + +Could his love for the girl of Tarth draw him across the unthinkable +abyss? + +"... immodestly attired and ..." the desk sergeant was saying. + +_Ylia, Ylia, call me! Draw me to you, girl of Tarth._ + +_... bramforesthelp...._ + +_Ylia! I hear you! I hear you!_ + +"What the heck's he doing? Praying?" the patrolman asked. + +For Bram Forest was staring devoutly at nothing, staring at the air in +front of his face there in the mundane precinct room as if it held a +radiant vision. + +Suddenly the desk sergeant's jaw dropped open. The patrolman said: +"Hey, wait a mo...." + +Bram Forest was becoming tenuous, vanishing. + + * * * * * + +Insubstantial, transparent, the image of Bram Forest soared past the +encampment of the Golden Apes. "Bylanus!" he called, and his voice was +not insubstantial. Bylanus came at once. + +"If the Abarian legions move, attack them, Bylanus." + +"As you will, Bram Forest. But you...." + +"Don't worry about me. I can control it, I can control it." + +Bylanus passed an enormous hand through Bram Forest's body. + +"I'll materialize, when I find Ylia. She draws me...." Already the +vision was fading. + +"Farewell, Bram Forest." + +_Farewell...._ + +Was it merely the sound of the wind along the banks of the River of +Ice? Bylanus wondered. + + * * * * * + +Something struck Pirum's shoulder. The girl crouched, sobbing, at his +feet. Pirum whirled. + +His face went white when he saw the man. He swung his fist +desperately, and the man blocked it without effort. His arm was +caught, as in a vise. He screamed. Something snapped in his arm. +Something streaked at his face.... + +He took the blow from Bram Forest's fist under the point of the jaw. +His head snapped back against the dungeon wall and memory and desire +and lust and life oozed out through his smashed skull. + +"Ylia!" + +"You came, Bram Forest." + +"I'll never leave you again." + +"Yes, now, in the amphitheater. I think...." + +Overhead, the crowd roared. Bram Forest listened for a fraction of a +second, and raced for the stairs. + +When word of the duel between Bontarc and Retoc came by courier to +Laugrim, second in command of the Abarian army under the missing +Hultax, Laugrim decided it was time to attack. He gave the signal for +his army to march on the city, and the signal was passed from +signal-fire to signal-fire in the huge encampment. In a very short +time, the army's vanguard began to march. _There's no force on all +Tarth strong enough to stop us now_, Laugrim thought exultantly. _This +day, Retoc would rule Tarth._ + +He was right. There was no Tarthian army strong enough to stop them. +But the Army of the Golden Apes which, after Bram Forest's warning, +had deployed itself at the very gates of Nadia City so the people in +the amphitheater might witness the battle, was not of Tarth.... + + * * * * * + +"Well, Bontarc," cried Retoc, "can't you do better than that? Surely a +king...." + +For many minutes now Retoc, the finest swordsman on Tarth, had been +toying with his adversary. He could have killed Bontarc a dozen times +over, but he waited, driving the Nadian ruler back, playing with him, +making him do incredible gymnastics in order to survive, three times +returning his whip-sword to him when it had been torn from the +Nadian's hands. + +All Nadia--and all the rulers of Tarth--watched spellbound. It seemed +to them that the Nadian ruler had gone into the contest willingly. +They made no move, and under the ethics that governed their world, +would make no move, to stop the uneven contest. + +Retoc's blurring sword-point whipped and flashed, drawing blood from a +dozen superficial wounds. The smile never left Retoc's face. +Desperately, knowing his life was forfeit whenever Retoc chose, +Bontarc parried the whip-lashing blade. + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest emerged into the dazzling sunlight of the arena floor. +Squinting, he saw the figures across the sand. + +The men before him were Bontarc of Nadia and Retoc, slayer of his +mother, destroyer of Ofridia. + +Retoc saw him first, and cried out exultantly. His wrist blurred, his +whip-sword flashed, the point singing, and Bontarc's sword flew from +his fingers. "You!" Retoc cried. + +The sword-point had slashed an artery on Bontarc's wrist. The blood +spurted out and Bontarc stood there, dazed, holding the wound shut +with his left hand. + +"Are you all right, sire?" Bram Forest asked. + +"I can manage until a doctor binds--" + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest picked up the Nadian ruler's whip-sword and faced his +enemy, sword to sword, at last. + +Retoc looked at him, and laughed. "I almost killed you once," he said. +His hand barely seemed to move, but the point of his blade, whipping, +flashing, was everywhere. Bram Forest parried desperately. "I'll +finish the job now," Retoc vowed. + +Then Bram Forest did an unexpected thing. He used the whip-sword not +as a sword: he couldn't hope to match Retoc's skill as a swordsman. He +used it as a whip is used, his great arm slicing back and forth +through air, up over his head and down, the long length of the +uncoiled blading whipping and darting like something alive across the +sands. + +Retoc retreated two steps, and lunged with what he hoped would be a +death blow. + +Prokliam the seneschal was trembling so much he could hardly stand. +Just outside the amphitheater, in the very shadow of the amphitheater +wall, the great Golden Apes of legend had materialized. There were +thousands of them, and they were three times the size of men, and +methodically and with great ease, they were destroying the Abarian +army before it could enter the amphitheater. + +Without the Abarian army, Volna and Retoc would never subjugate Nadia, +never rule Tarth. But Prokliam the seneschal had committed himself to +their cause. Now only death awaited him. + +Or, had he committed himself? Couldn't he change sides before it was +too late? Couldn't he slay Volna, here in the royal box, for all to +see? Couldn't he become a hero of the people? He was confused. He +wished he could think clearly, but he was more frightened than he had +ever been in his life. There was something wrong with his logic. +Something.... Well, no matter. Slay Volna first, call her traitor, and +then worry about his logic-- + +He turned away from the wall and marched down the flights of stairs +between the citizens of Nadia, flanked in two wildly shouting mobs on +either side of the aisle, and plunged a knife into Volna's back, +killing her instantly. + +The people roared, and rose up. Like a tide they swept toward +Prokliam, the seneschal who had wanted to be prime minister. + +"No, no!" he cried. "No, please. You don't understand. ... I see it now ... +what was wrong with my thinking ... you don't know yet ... you don't +know ... to you she was still the Princess Volna, loyal, true ... you +don't understand, please." + +The wave rolled over Prokliam the seneschal, leaving him battered and +bloody and dead in its wake. + + * * * * * + +The strong, whipping motion of Bram Forest's arm made a wall of steel +of his whip-sword. Try as he might, with all the skill at his command, +Retoc could not dent that wall. But, he thought, there was another +way. Slowly, desperately, he maneuvered Bram Forest back toward +Bontarc, who was sitting in the sand and using all his remaining +energy to hold the life blood in his veins, his fingers clamped, +vise-like, about his own arm. + +Bram Forest's arm blurred up, down, to either side. He wove a web of +death. It was brawn against skill, he knew--and the strength of his +arm might win! Retoc was sweating. Retoc was not the cool swordsman he +had been moments before. Desperately, Retoc sought an opening, and +found none. True, his superior footwork was forcing Bram Forest back +across the sand, but what did that matter? Last time they dueled he +had made the mistake of meeting Retoc on his own grounds as greatest +swordsman of Tarth. This time.... + +His legs caught against something. He fell heavily. + +Retoc's sword-point flashed down. + +Bram Forest rolled over, stood up with sand blinding his eyes. For +precious moments he could see nothing but could only spin with the +whip-sword; slashing air in all directions, hoping Retoc couldn't +strike through the wall of steel. + +Then, slowly, vision returned to his stinging eyes. Bontarc lay +stretched out on the sand now, unconscious, the blood pumping from his +severed artery. If he bled like that for more than a few moments, he +would die. If he died, and if Nadia rose in its wrath against Abaria, +then all that Bram Forest had dreamed of, not revenge against Abaria +for a wrong done, but eternal peace on Tarth, would be lost.... + +He took the offensive, weaving his wall of steel toward Retoc. The +Abarian thrust his own sword, and withdrew it, and parried, and lunged +and thrust again. The wall of steel which was Bram Forest's singing +blade advanced relentlessly. + +Round and round his head, Bram Forest whirled the whip-sword. Retoc +could--just--block the motion, the death-laden circle, with his own +blade. He became accustomed to it. He used all his effort, all his +skill to block it. + +Then, abruptly, Bram Forest raised his sword-arm and brought it down +from high over his head. + +Retoc screamed. + +And died screaming, his head and torso split from crown to navel. + +Bram Forest rushed to Bontarc, stretched out on the sand, and with his +own hand stemmed the bleeding. + +Bylanus the Golden Ape said: "All Tarth is yours to command if you +wish it, Bram Forest." + +"No, Bylanus. Take your people back to your world and live in peace. +We of Tarth thank you." + +Bylanus smiled. "I thought you would say that." + +"Portox was a great scientist," Bram Forest said. "But he thought too +much of revenge. The ancient wrong is righted." + +"Then you'll spare Abaria?" gasped the delegate of the assembled +Tarthian nobles, who had come to the meeting called by Bylanus that +night. + +"My fight was with Retoc and the Abarian army. Retoc is dead, the army +decimated and disbanded. My fight with Abaria is over." + +"Then what will you do?" + +Bram Forest took Ylia's hand. "I'd like to see a great nation rise +again on the Plains of Ofrid." + +Bontarc, his arm bandaged, said: "My people will help you build. And, +with your wayfarers as a nucleus maid Ylia...." + +"It will be a small nation at first," Ylia said. + +"It will grow, so long as Tarth knows peace," Bontarc told her. + +"Tarth will know nothing but peace from now on," Bram Forest promised. + +It was a promise which he knew all of them would keep. + +THE END + + * * * * * + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Quest of the Golden Ape, by +Ivar Jorgensen and Adam Chase + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEST OF THE GOLDEN APE *** + +***** This file should be named 32953-8.txt or 32953-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/9/5/32953/ + +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: Quest of the Golden Ape + +Author: Ivar Jorgensen + Adam Chase + +Release Date: June 23, 2010 [EBook #32953] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEST OF THE GOLDEN APE *** + + + + +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 Amazing Stories January, February, March 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p><p class="center">The Table of Contents is not part of the original magazines</p></div> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img class="img1" src="images/cover.jpg" width="400" height="551" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;"> +<img src="images/image_001.jpg" width="700" height="468" alt="They were bent upon rapine and slaughter—and what +greater prize than the Queen herself?" title="" /> +<span class="caption">They were bent upon rapine and slaughter—and what +greater prize than the Queen herself?</span> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<h1>QUEST OF THE GOLDEN APE</h1> +<p> </p> + +<h2>By IVAR JORGENSEN and ADAM CHASE</h2> +<p> </p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>How could this man awaken with no past—no childhood—no +recollection except of a vague world of terror from which +his mother cried out for vengeance and the slaughter of his +own people stood as a monument of infamy?</i></p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr> + <td class="tocch f1">CHAPTER</td> + <td> </td> + <td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">I</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_I">Mansion of Mystery</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">II</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_II">The Great Clock of Tarth</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">III</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_III">The Man in the Cavern</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">IV</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">John Pride's Story</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">V</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_V">Question Upon Question</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">VI</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">On the Plains of Ofrid</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">VII</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">The White God</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">VIII</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">The Brown Virgin</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">IX</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">In Custody</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">X</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_X">The Road to Nadia</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XI</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">On the Ice Fields of Nadia</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XII</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">Volna the Beautiful</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XIII</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">The Journey of No Return</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XIV</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">Land Beyond the Stars</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XV</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">The Golden Ape</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XVI</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">The Raging Beast</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td class="tocch">XVII</td> + <td> </td> + <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">The Prison Without Bars</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h2><i>Mansion of Mystery</i></h2> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_i.jpg" alt="I" width="16" height="40" /></div> + +<p>n a secluded section of a certain eastern state which must remain +nameless, one may leave the main highway and travel up a winding road +around tortuous bends and under huge scowling trees, into wooded +country.</p> + +<p>Upon a certain night—the date of which must remain vague—there came +a man who faced and was not turned back by a series of psychological +barriers along this road which made it more impregnable than a steel +wall. These barriers, which had kept out a hundred years of +curiosity-seekers until that certain night, were forged by the +scientific magic of a genius on a planet far beyond the sun....</p> + +<p>The man who boldly followed his headlights up the road was of middle +age with calm, honest eyes and a firm mouth indicating bargains made +in his name would be kept. He pushed on, feeling the subtle force of +the psychological powers against him but resisting because he vaguely +understood them.</p> + +<p>He left his car presently and raised his hand to touch the hard +outline of a small book he carried in his breast pocket and with the +gesture his determination hardened. He set his jaw firmly, snapped on +the flashlight he had taken from the dash of his convertible and moved +on up the road.</p> + +<p>His firm, brisk steps soon brought him to its end, a great iron gate, +its lock and hinges rusted tight under the patient hand of Time. It +was high and spiked and too dangerous for climbing. But someone had +smashed the lock with a heavy instrument and had applied force until +the rusted hinges gave and the gate stood partially open. From the +look of the metal, this could have been done recently—even in the +past few minutes.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The man entered and found a flagstone pathway. He followed this for a +time with the aid of his flashlight. Then he stopped and raised the +beam.</p> + +<p>It revealed the outline of a great stone mansion, its myriad windows +like black, sightless eyes, its silent bulk telling of long solitude, +its tongueless voice whispering: <i>Go away, stranger. Only peril and +misfortune await you here.</i></p> + +<p>But I am not exactly a stranger, the man told himself, approaching the +door and half hoping to find the scowling panel locked.</p> + +<p>But it was not locked. The ponderous knob turned under his hand. The +panel moved back silently. The man gripped his flashlight and stepped +inside.</p> + +<p>The knowledge that he was no longer alone came as a shock. It was +brought to him by the sound of labored breathing and he flashed the +light about frantically trying to locate the source of the harsh +sound. Then the bright circle picked out a huddled form on the floor +nearby. The man moved forward instantly and went to his knees.</p> + +<p>He was looking into an incredibly ancient face. The skin was so deeply +lined as to hang in folds around the sunken eyes. The mouth was but a +toothless maw and the body so shrunken as to seem incapable of +clinging to life. The voice was a harsh whisper.</p> + +<p>"Thank God you have come. I am dying. The opening of the gate took all +my remaining strength."</p> + +<p>"You have been waiting for me?"</p> + +<p>"I have been waiting out the years—striving to keep life in my body +until the moment of destiny. I wanted to see <i>him</i>. I wanted to be +there when the door to his resting place opens and he comes forth to +right the terrible wrongs that have been done our people."</p> + +<p>The strength of the ancient one was ebbing fast. The words he spoke +had been an effort. The kneeling man said, "I don't understand all +this."</p> + +<p>"That matters not. It is important only that you keep the bargain made +long ago with your sire, and that you are here. Someone must be with +<i>him</i> at the awakening."</p> + +<p>The newcomer again touched the book in his pocket. "I came because our +word had been given—"</p> + +<p>The dying man picked feebly at his sleeve. "Please! You must go below! +The great clock has measured the years. Soon it tolls the moment. Soon +a thundering on the Plains of Ofrid will herald the new age—the +Fighting Age—and a new day will dawn."</p> + +<p>While the visitor held his frail shoulders, the dying man gasped and +said, "Hasten! Hurry to the vault below! Would that I could go with +you, but that is not to be."</p> + +<p>And then the visitor realized he was holding a corpse in his arms. He +laid it gently down and did as he had been directed to do.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h2><i>The Great Clock of Tarth</i></h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="31" height="40" /></div> + +<p>he Plains of Ofrid on the planet Tarth stretched flat and monotonous +as far as the eye could reach, a gently waving ocean of soft, +knee-high grass where herds of wild stads grazed and bright-hued birds +vied in brilliance with the flaming sun.</p> + +<p>From the dark Abarian Forests to the Ice Fields of Nadia, the plain +stretched unbroken except for the tall, gray tower in its exact center +and it was toward this tower that various groups of Tarthans were now +moving.</p> + +<p>Every nation on the planet was represented in greater or lesser +number. The slim, erect Nadians in their flat-bottomed air cars that +could hang motionless in space or skim the surface of the planet at a +thousand jeks an hour. The grim-faced Abarians, tall and finely +muscled on their powerful stads, their jeweled uniforms flashing back +the glory of the heavens. The Utalians, those chameleon men of Tarth, +their skins now the exact color of the grasses across which they rode, +thus causing their stads to appear unmounted and unguided.</p> + +<p>All the nations of Tarth were represented, drawn toward the tower by a +century-old legend, a legend which Retoc the Abarian clarified as he +rode at the head of his own proud group.</p> + +<p>He waved a hand, indicating the vast plain and spoke to Hultax, his +second in command, saying, "Little would one think that this flat, +empty land was once the site of a vast and powerful nation. One of the +greatest upon all Tarth!" A smile of cruelty and satisfaction played +upon his handsome features as he surveyed the plain.</p> + +<p>"Aye," Hultax replied. "The realm of the Ofridians. Truly they were a +great nation."</p> + +<p>"But we Abarians were greater," Retoc snapped. "We not only defeated +them but we leveled their land until not one stone stood upon +another."</p> + +<p>"All save the tower," Hultax said. "No weapon known could so much as +scratch its surface."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>A new voice cut in. "Quite true. Portox's scientific skill was too +great for you." Both Abarians turned quickly to scowl at the newcomer, +Bontarc of Nadia, who had swung close in his one-man car and was +hovering by their side.</p> + +<p>Retoc's hand moved toward the hilt of his long whip-like sword, driven +there by the look of contempt in Bontarc's eyes. But Retoc hesitated. +A formidable squadron of Bontarc's Nadian fighting men hovered nearby +and the Abarian had no taste for a battle in which the odds were close +to even.</p> + +<p>"We defeated the Ofridians fairly," he said.</p> + +<p>"And slaughtered them fairly? Cut down the men and women and children +alike until the entire nation was obliterated?"</p> + +<p>The systematic annihilation had taken place a century before when +Bontarc had been but a child and Retoc a young man. Karnod, Retoc's +father, now dead, had planned the war that defeated the Ofridians, his +winning card having been spies in the court of Evalla, Queen of Ofrid. +Karnod had been fatally wounded during the last battle and had +delegated to his son the task of annihilating the Ofridians and +levelling their nation. This task, Retoc accepted with relish, +reserving for himself the pleasure of slaying Queen Evalla. Details of +the torture to which Retoc subjected the beautiful Evalla were +whispered over the planet and it was said the sadistic Retoc had taken +photographs of the Queen in her agony to enjoy in later years.</p> + +<p>It had been the scientific ability of Portox of Ofrid that had +engendered the Abarian hatred and jealousy in the first place. Portox +used his science for the good of all on the planet Tarth, but when +Karnod, Lord of Abaria, struck, no other nation came to Ofrid's aid. +Then it was too late, because Abaria's military might greatened as a +result of the Ofridian defeat and only an alliance of all other +nations could have conquered them.</p> + +<p>Ironically, Portox had never been captured.</p> + +<p>Now as the tall gray tower came into view, Bontarc's mind was filled +with thoughts of Portox, the Ofridian wizard. It was said that Portox +had been able to travel through space to other planets that were known +to exist, that he had left Tarth and found safety somewhere across +space, first building his tower which would never be destroyed; that a +great clock within it was measuring off one hundred years—the time on +the planet Tarth of an infant's development into manhood—and that at +the end of that span the clock would toll and there would come forth a +man to avenge the slaughter of the Ofridians.</p> + +<p>Bontarc turned suddenly upon the dour Retoc. "Tell me," he said, "is +there any truth to the legend that the clock in the tower will toll +the end of one hundred years?"</p> + +<p>"None whatever," the sadistic Abarian snapped. "A rumor passed from +the lips of one old woman to another."</p> + +<p>Bontarc smiled. "Then why are you here? The hundred years are up +today."</p> + +<p>Retoc's hand moved toward his whip-sword. "Are you calling me a liar?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bontarc watched alertly as the blade came partly from its scabbard. +"If we fight we may miss the tolling of the clock," he said evenly.</p> + +<p>With an oath, Retoc pushed the sword back into its scabbard and put +sharp heels to his stad's flanks. The animal screamed indignantly and +rocketed ahead. Bontarc smiled and turned his car back toward his own +group.</p> + +<p>And now they were assembled and waiting, the curious of the planet +Tarth. Would the clock toll as it was rumored Portox had said? Would +an avenger come forth to challenge Retoc and his Abarian hordes?</p> + +<p>There was not much time left. Swiftly the clock ticked off the +remaining moments and the end of one hundred years was at hand. +Silence settled over the assembled Tarthans.</p> + +<p>Then a great sound boomed over the plains; a single ringing peal that +rose majestically into the air, reverberated across the empty land +that once had been the site of a thriving, prosperous nation. The +first part of the legend had been fulfilled.</p> + +<p>Then, suddenly, chaos reigned. With a great thundering that shook the +ground upon which they stood, the gray tower exploded in crimson +glory; a great mushrooming blossom of red fire erupted skyward hurling +the assembled Tarthans to the ground where they lay in numbed stupor.</p> + +<p>The thunderous report echoed across the plain ten thousand times +louder than the tolling of the clock. But aside from the initial +dulling shock, no Tarthan was injured because the crushing power rose +upward.</p> + +<p>There was an expression of mute wonder on Bontarc's face. And he +thought: We have not seen the end of this. It is only the beginning. +But the beginning of what? Only Portox could have known. And Portox +was—where?</p> + +<p>Bontarc started his car and moved across the plain sensing cosmic +events but not knowing....</p> + +<p>Not knowing that the sound of the tolling clock had gone with more +than the speed of light across the void, had been flung arrow-straight +to a brooding mansion in the heart of a thick forest upon another +planet; to the door of a cavern deep in the rock beneath the mansion.</p> + +<p>That even now the lock of this door had responded to the electronic +impulse and the huge panel was swinging slowly open.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h2><i>The Man in the Cavern</i></h2> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="37" height="40" /></div> + +<p>s the sound of the tolling clock died out across the Plains of Ofrid, +a man opened his eyes on the planet far away and saw for the first +time the place in which he had spent one hundred years.</p> + +<p>He awoke with neither fright nor surprise but rather with a sense of +wonder. He arose slowly from the great bed upon which he had lain and +allowed his attention to roam about the strange place in which he +found himself.</p> + +<p>In the wall opposite the bed there was set a full length mirror and as +the man turned he saw himself for the first time; a tall, +broadly-muscled figure of heroic proportions. Completely naked, his +body was reflected as masculine perfection in every detail.</p> + +<p>For a few moments, the man stared at the body as though it belonged to +someone else. Then he spoke musingly. "You did your work well, Portox, +my friend."</p> + +<p>The sound of his own voice startled him but not so much so as the +content of the words. A baffled expression touched his handsome face. +Who was Portox? And what work had he done? What place was this—and +for that matter, who was he himself, this naked figure which looked +back at him from the glittering mirror?</p> + +<p>The questions were annoying because he felt that he knew the answers. +Yet they would not come within reach of his conscious mind.</p> + +<p>He had little time to ponder this enigma however because at that +moment he became aware of a second presence in the room. He turned. A +man stood just inside the open door.</p> + +<p>The naked one stared at the other with an interest that left no room +for self-consciousness nor shame. "Who are you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"My name is John Pride," the man answered. He was a man of erect +bearing and though there was wonder and surprise in his voice he bore +himself with a quiet dignity. "And now," he added, "may I ask you the +same question?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The naked man looked down at his own body and for the first time +seemed conscious of its nudity. He glanced around the room and saw a +robe of royal purple lying across a chair by the bed. He stepped over +and lifted the robe and put it on. As he was tying the rich purple +cord around his waist he looked frankly back at John Pride and said, +"I do not know. I honestly do not know."</p> + +<p>John Pride said, "I have wondered what I would find in this +cavern—wondered through the years. Only in my wildest fancies did I +tell myself that a fellow human—or even a living creature—awaited me +here. But now I find this is true."</p> + +<p>The younger man regarded his visitor with a calmness that belied any +wariness between them. John Pride noted this with admiration and +respect. The young man said, "Won't you be seated?" and when his guest +was comfortable, regarded him with a smile. "Perhaps there are some +things we should talk over."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps there are. You say you do not know your own name?"</p> + +<p>"That only begins to sum up my ignorance. I am not only unaware of my +identity but I haven't the faintest notion of what this place +is—where it is—or how I came here."</p> + +<p>It was John Pride's turn to stare. While doing so, he analyzed the +younger man keenly. He saw honesty and an inner warmth that attracted +him. There was something almost godlike in the clean lines of the body +he had seen and in the face. These things coupled with what he already +knew, intrigued him mightily and he resolved to approach this strange +affair with an open mind and not play the role of the unbelieving +cynic. It was time to go ahead.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>John Pride said, "First, are you aware that there is another in this +mansion—or was?"</p> + +<p>"I did not even know this was a mansion. It seems only one room."</p> + +<p>"It is an enormous structure set deep in the forest."</p> + +<p>"This other one—?"</p> + +<p>"A very old man. He died as I arrived here tonight."</p> + +<p>"You do not know his name or how came he here?"</p> + +<p>"I have a vague idea."</p> + +<p>The young man's dazzling blue eyes narrowed in thought. "A while ago +you said you have wondered through the years as to what you would find +in this room. That indicates you were aware of its existence."</p> + +<p>"True. Perhaps at this point I had better tell you the complete +story—as much of it as I know."</p> + +<p>"I would be in your debt."</p> + +<p>"No, I will merely be discharging the last of a very old obligation."</p> + +<p>With that, John Pride took from his pocket a small leather covered +book. He handled it gently, almost with affection, and said, "This was +my father's notebook. In it, is an account of this remarkable affair, +put down by my great grandfather and handed down through the line. +When my father died he placed it in my hand saying it entailed an +obligation both business and personal and it was my obligation as well +as his.</p> + +<p>"I have read the account of what transpired many times and with your +permission I will put it into my own words. Then, when I am done, I +will give you the book and the affair will be over so far as I and my +family are concerned."</p> + +<p>John Pride had settled back in his chair and was just ready to begin +when the young man held up a sudden hand. "Just one moment—please," +he said, and a look of concentration came upon his face. Then he went +on and his words took the form of a rhyme:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"An ape, a boar, a stallion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A land beyond the stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A virgin's feast, a raging beast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A prison without bars."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He flushed and added: "I don't know why I was possessed to recite that +doggerel at just this moment but there is something strange about it. +Strange in that I have a feeling it was taught to me at some long +distant time in the past. I sense that it is very important to +whatever destiny awaits me. Yet I know not who taught me the verse nor +what it means."</p> + +<p>"That verse is inscribed in this book and I believe I know how it +entered your mind and memory. I believe too, that I understand how you +are able to converse with me though you know nothing of this land or +even this room," John Pride said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Then please tell me!"</p> + +<p>"I think it better that I start at the beginning rather than give you +the story piece-meal. That way, your mind will be better able to +assimilate and to judge."</p> + +<p>"I await your pleasure," the young man said with impatience he strove +to conceal.</p> + +<p>"Very well," John Pride said, his eyes growing vague with a far-away +look.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h2><i>John Pride's Story</i></h2> + +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/image_i1.jpg" alt="I" width="35" height="40" /></div> +<p> am a member," John Pride began, "of a firm called Pride, Conroy, +and Wilson. We are a very old firm of private bankers with offices in +Wall Street. Both Conroy and Wilson died before I was born, leaving no +issue, so the company has been controlled by a Pride for many years.</p> + +<p>"This affair in which we are interested had its inception one hundred +years ago. At that time, a man came to see my great grandfather in his +office. He was a most remarkable man and gained my grandfather's +respect and confidence from the very first. He never stated from +whence he came, being more interested in the future than in the past. +He put up at a New York City hotel and my great grandfather knew there +were three in his party; the man himself, another man and a woman both +somewhat older than he.</p> + +<p>"At one time when my great grandfather visited them in their hotel +suite, he saw the woman fleetingly as she was leaving the room. She +was carrying something that he thought could have been an infant +snuggled in a blanket. He could not be sure however and he did not ask +questions.</p> + +<p>"The man was interested in obtaining a place of abode, a place that +had to possess certain definite qualifications. First, it had to be +built upon solid rock and set in the most secluded location possible.</p> + +<p>"Second, it had to be so completely free of legal involvements that +when he secured title, no possible claim of another could ever be +taken seriously enough to even cause the property to be visited. In +short, the strange man said, details relevant to the property must +integrate to a point where no one would visit it for one hundred +years."</p> + +<p>At this place in his narrative, John Pride stopped a moment to rest +his voice. After a pause, the young man in the purple robe inquired, +"Why do you smile?"</p> + +<p>"At the recollection. My great grandfather had just a white +elephant—"</p> + +<p>"A white elephant?"</p> + +<p>"Merely a descriptive term. A place that had been built before the +Revolution but which even at that early time had been bypassed by the +trend of progress until it was completely isolated. No one wanted it. +No one would ever want it so far as my great grandfather could judge."</p> + +<p>"Except this strange man you speak of."</p> + +<p>"Precisely. He was delighted with the place and when my great +grandfather pointed out that even with the location and the high +surrounding wall there was no guarantee that wandering adventurers +might not move in and take possession at some distant date, the man +smiled cryptically and said he would see to it that that did not +occur."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The young man was scowling. "I know that man. He is somewhere back in +my mind, but he will not come forward."</p> + +<p>John Pride regarded his listener for a moment and then went on. "The +man seemed in ample funds and paid for the property with a giant ruby +the like of which my great grandfather had never before set eyes on.</p> + +<p>"But the affair was far from ended. The man moved his <i>ménage</i> into +the mansion saying he would call upon my great grandfather later.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"All the legal formalities had been of course taken care of—an +indisputable deed, guaranteed by the strongest trust company in the +land. But that was not enough.</p> + +<p>"After a few weeks, during which time the man had inquired of my great +grandfather where certain materials could be obtained, he returned to +the old gentleman's office with the most startling request of all.</p> + +<p>"He said that he had set in motion a procedure that would terminate in +exactly one hundred years from a given moment and that he wished to +retain grandfather's firm as trust agents in relation to that +procedure. The duties of the firm would be negligible during the +hundred-year period. My great grandfather and his issue were merely to +remain completely away from the property which was certainly a simple +thing to do.</p> + +<p>"But knowledge of what had taken place must be passed down to his son +and in case the latter did not survive the one hundred years, to his +son's son.</p> + +<p>"At this point my great grandfather interposed reality in the form of +a question: 'I have a son but suppose he is so inconsiderate as to not +duplicate with a male heir?'</p> + +<p>"The man smiled and said he was sure that would not be the case. He +was right, but whether it was a gamble on his part or whether he spoke +from a knowledge beyond us, we never knew.</p> + +<p>"But regardless—at the end of one hundred years the surviving issue +was, by sacred trust, to be present in this mansion. The door of a +vault beneath it would open and the trustee was to enter and deliver +therein a written account of the series of events leading up to that +moment.</p> + +<p>"In payment for this service, the man insisted upon presenting my +great grandfather with jewels the value of which on a yearly basis +transcended all our other income combined. My great grandfather +demurred but the man said nothing brightens memory so much as +material gain and he did not want the agreement to be forgotten."</p> + +<p>"What happened to the man?" the young listener asked.</p> + +<p>John Pride shook his head sadly. "We never knew. When all the +arrangements were made, he came again to the office, thanked my great +sire for his services, and was never seen again."</p> + +<p>"He must have given you his name."</p> + +<p>John Pride frowned. "He used a name of course but there was the +impression of its not being his true one. The book mentions this. The +name he used was C. D. Bram."</p> + +<p>"Portox!" the young man cried suddenly.</p> + +<p>"What did you say?"</p> + +<p>"Portox. The name is back in my mind. I used it as I awoke."</p> + +<p>"A strange name."</p> + +<p>"And stranger still is the fact that I know nothing of it—wait!" The +young man's handsome features strained as he concentrated with all his +power. Sweat stood out on his forehead. But then a look of +disappointment came into his face and his broad shoulders sagged. "No. +The knowledge is somewhere back in my mind but I cannot capture it."</p> + +<p>John Pride was about to speak but the young man stayed him with a +sudden intense look. "One thing however is very clear to me."</p> + +<p>"And that is—?"</p> + +<p>"The face of my mother."</p> + +<p>"The woman who held you in her arms in the hotel suite?"</p> + +<p>"No, I do not think so. But I see a face clearly in my mind. A sad and +beautiful face. There is a marked resemblance between it and what I +see in that mirror. She is the most beautiful woman who ever lived and +I yearn to find her and take her in my arms."</p> + +<p>"I hope you succeed."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>A tragic light appeared in the young man's eyes. "But where is she? +How can I find her? Why did she leave me in this place?"</p> + +<p>"I do not have the answers to those questions. But I have a theory +concerning you and the elapsed years."</p> + +<p>"Tell me!"</p> + +<p>John Pride spoke firmly but with obvious awe. "I think you were +brought here as an infant for some reason known only to the one who +called himself C. D. Bram."</p> + +<p>"Or Portox."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. I think you were placed in that bed and left there for one +hundred years."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"Consider. That door has never been opened. There is certainly no +other exit to this cavern."</p> + +<p>"And I have no recollection of ever having lived before," the young +man said slowly.</p> + +<p>"Yet you can converse with me. You obviously have been given an +education."</p> + +<p>"But how?"</p> + +<p>"It is known that knowledge can be injected into the subconscious +while the receiver sleeps. I'm sure the man you insist upon calling +Portox was aware of this—this and perhaps other scientific miracles. +Who are we to say that you were not nourished by some means beyond our +knowledge?"</p> + +<p>But that investigation was never to be made because as John Pride +extended his hand to touch the box it suddenly burst into a glow and +he withdrew his fingers quickly.</p> + +<p>Before the younger man could answer a glowing point of light sprang +into being and brightened and a wave of searing heat erupted from the +walls of the room, searing the eyes of John Pride and leaving him to +grope helplessly as in the heart of a furnace. The younger man was +beyond his reach. Blinding pain caused him to reel.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h2><i>Question Upon Question</i></h2> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_j.jpg" alt="J" width="26" height="40" /></div> + +<p>ohn Pride opened his eyes as a moan escaped his lips. The haze +cleared and he found himself lying upon a cool stone floor looking up +into the concerned face of the younger man. "What happened?" John +Pride asked feebly. He tried to refocus.</p> + +<p>"I don't know except that the heat of that fire was upon us with such +swiftness that we were almost incapacitated. I picked you up and +started walking. Fortunately I moved in the direction of the door. +Otherwise we would have been doomed."</p> + +<p>"I am in your debt."</p> + +<p>"No more so than I in yours."</p> + +<p>"Did you extinguish the fire?"</p> + +<p>"It burned out of its own accord. But only after the cave was +completely gutted. There is nothing left in there but the bare rock +walls."</p> + +<p>John Pride sat up with quick concern. "The book!"</p> + +<p>"It is gone." The young man looked ruefully down at his own naked +body. "Gone—together with my precious robe."</p> + +<p>"That can easily be replaced along with other raiment but the book—I +was supposed to deliver it—"</p> + +<p>"—to the cavern. You did that, my friend. It was not through you that +the fire consumed it. You have dispatched your obligation. Let your +mind be at ease."</p> + +<p>John Pride got to his feet. He shook his head in the negative. "No. A +portion of my obligation still exists. Fortunately I did not bring +forth the second and last item I was to place in the cavern."</p> + +<p>"The second item?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I believe the most important."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>With that, Pride took from his pocket a small box wrapped in heavy +material and sealed and resealed with a sort of rubberized wax.</p> + +<p>"This," he said. "I know not what is in the box nor I think, did my +father, my grandfather, nor my great grandfather before me. We have +been given to understand that its delivery to the cavern was the most +important single duty of the trust. So I now place it in your hands, +praying that this act fulfills the long-standing obligation of my +family."</p> + +<p>The younger man had salvaged a portion of his robe, a length of +material that went over his shoulders and draped skimpily down the +sides of his body. This did nothing whatever in the way of covering +his nudity but rather accentuated and added to it.</p> + +<p>He took the box and was scanning it with great interest when the +excitement and strenuous action of the preceding few minutes again +took grip upon John Pride's comparatively less rugged physique.</p> + +<p>His eyes closed and he began sinking again to the floor whereupon the +younger man slipped the box hastily in the pocket that had not burned +away from his robe and caught John Pride in his arms.</p> + +<p>He lifted the elder man and carried him up from the mansion caverns +and into the great hall that swept forward to the main entrance. As he +walked, bearing the heavy burden as though it were but a mere feather, +he was of two minds.</p> + +<p>One mind entertained concern for his new-found friend and the other +was occupied with interest in these new and strange surroundings.</p> + +<p>Dawn had broken over the forest and in a brooding light within the +great hall, he saw the withered body of the dead man on the floor. He +paused for a moment and then went out across the flagstone porch and +into the open air.</p> + +<p>He marveled at the green expanse of forest that reared in majesty +about him. He drew in deep gusts of the cool air and found it good. He +smiled.</p> + +<p>Then John Pride stirred in his arms and showed signs of returning +consciousness. The young man laid the financier on the soft grass and +watched until his eyes opened.</p> + +<p>"Are you feeling better? Is there anything I can do?"</p> + +<p>John Pride smiled feebly as he raised himself with the younger man's +aid. "I'm afraid this has been more strenuous than I bargained for. If +I'd known what would transpire I would have kept myself in better +condition."</p> + +<p>"But you feel better now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. If you will be so good as to help me to my car, I'll be all +right."</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Your car—?"</p> + +<p>"A means of conveyance that will take me back to the city. It stands +but a few yards down the road beyond the gate."</p> + +<p>A short time later, the two men stood at the place that was to be the +parting of their ways. Both sensed this and Pride held out his hand. +The younger man grasped it firmly.</p> + +<p>"Godspeed to you, my friend," John Pride said. "I fear I can help you +no further but if there is ever a time when my services are needed, I +will be waiting for your command."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Whatever befalls me I will always remember you as the +first friend I ever set eyes upon in this world."</p> + +<p>With that, John Pride turned his car and drove off down the winding +road. As he left, the younger man realized the older man had said +nothing of the dead ancient in the great hall but realized it was +because of the strain Pride had suffered. The man was still somewhat +dazed from the shock of the fire.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He turned and walked slowly back toward the mansion until he stood +again in the great front yard. There he stopped and stood looking up +at the sun as it topped the hill east of the mansion.</p> + +<p>"Who am I?" he asked himself. "Why was I given knowledge but not all +the knowledge necessary to intelligently pursue my destiny? In my +heart there is a certainty that I am an educated man. I am aware of +the fact that there are different groups of people who speak different +languages and I know I will be able to converse with any I meet.</p> + +<p>"I know that there are planets and stars and moons and I know what is +to be known of the universe. But where is the exact personal knowledge +that would help me in my dealings with the future? Why was I left here +carefully tended and provided for these hundred years only to be +hurled suddenly upon my own?"</p> + +<p>He walked slowly into the great hall and knelt beside the still figure +on the floor. A feeling of compassion stirred him but there was no +warmth of recognition, no personal sorrow as a result of the ancient's +death.</p> + +<p>"Have I ever seen you before?" he asked softly. "Were you—Portox?"</p> + +<p>The dead one did not answer and the young man lifted him and took him +from the hall and buried him. He could find no tools to dig the soil +but located a hole that had once been a shallow well. He dropped the +body therein and followed it with stones until the hole was filled. He +did this with no sense of callousness but rather with an impersonal +reverence he instinctively felt but could not analyze.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_002.jpg" width="600" height="424" alt="The cryptic verse had become a visual symbol in Bram's +mind." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The cryptic verse had become a visual symbol in Bram's +mind.</span> +</div> + +<p>Returning slowly to the front yard, he pondered the dimension of +time. How, he wondered, could John Pride's line have gone through +three sires to John Pride, the last of the males, while he himself lay +for one hundred years to emerge in his obvious prime? Or perhaps even +on the near side of his prime.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He pondered this and other points until his mind grew weary from +unanswered questions and turned to things of the moment.</p> + +<p>"I know not what my destiny is but at least I am able to have a name. +What shall it be?"</p> + +<p>He remembered the one Portox had used—C. D. Bram. "Bram," he said. +"That I like." But the C. D. meant nothing to him and Bram seemed +somehow incomplete.</p> + +<p>"John Price had a name of two parts," he said, "so why should I not +have the same?"</p> + +<p>He looked about him and a breeze in the green branches above seemed to +whisper the answer. He heard and considered, then smiled to himself, +raised his voice.</p> + +<p>"I christen myself Bram Forest, to be known from this moment on by +that name."</p> + +<p>Suddenly his smile deepened, then laughter welled from his great +chest; a laughter arising from the sheer joy of this new thing called +living into which he had stepped.</p> + +<p>Now he stretched his arms over his head, palms upward as though +supplicating to some far-off deity. He leaped high in the air testing +his muscles and finding them good.</p> + +<p>Then he was running, naked and golden off across the open hill. He ran +until his huge chest pounded with delicious pain as his lungs labored +for air. Finally he dropped to the ground and lay spread-eagled +looking up at the sky.</p> + +<p>He laughed long and joyously.</p> + +<p>He lay for a long time thus, then suddenly remembered the box John +Pride had given him. But the scanty garment had dropped from his +shoulders so he sprang to his feet and ran back until he discovered +it.</p> + +<p>The box was still there. He examined it curiously turning it over and +over in his hands. The seal was stubborn but it finally gave and he +peeled off the heavy wrapping. A small white box came to light.</p> + +<p>This he opened to stand frowning at what it contained. An odd +instrument of some sort—a flat disc about two inches in diameter and +possibly a quarter of an inch thick. Both faces were of shining, +crystalline metal reflecting back anything that was imaged upon them.</p> + +<p>Two short metal straps appended from opposite sides of the queer +instrument, one of which held a buckle at its end. He held the shining +disc to his ear but there was no sound that he could detect.</p> + +<p>Frustrated he looked again into the box. It appeared to be empty. But +no. As he was about to fling it away, he noted that what appeared to +be its inner bottom was in reality a second flat package that fitted +perfectly into the receptacle. He shook it free and found it to be +merely a flat rectangle wrapped tightly in white paper.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He was about to rip the paper with his thumbnail when his attention +switched suddenly to the shining disc. He had envisioned a use for it; +or at least a place for which it seemed constructed.</p> + +<p>He tested his theory and found the straps fit snugly and perfectly +around his wrist. He pondered which wrist to place it on and decided +the right one would be appropriate. Quickly, he snapped the buckle +into its hasp and then held forth his arm to admire the brightness of +the queer device.</p> + +<p>If he had expected anything to happen, he was disappointed and he +stood there wondering what use was to be found from such a seemingly +useless device.</p> + +<p>After a while he unbuckled the disc and moved it to his left wrist. +Perhaps it would look better there. Again he raised his arm to admire +it and had stood thus for some moments when he became conscious of an +odd sickness in the pit of his stomach.</p> + +<p>He did not associate this with the disc at all and immediately forgot +the thing, giving his whole attention to the uncomfortable feeling +that had come upon him.</p> + +<p>The sickness increased in intensity and he bent down, doubling over +his abdomen as the nausea became a pain. As he sank to his knees, he +noted the disc had changed, had taken on an odd, transparent glow.</p> + +<p>There had to be a connection between his illness and the abominable +device and he clawed at the buckle, seeking to loosen it and hurl the +thing away.</p> + +<p>But there was no time. The pain sharpened and a black cloud dimmed his +sight. He clawed feebly at the buckle and then his numbed fingers +weakened, fell away from it.</p> + +<p>The darkness increased and seemed to lift him from the ground upon +which he lay. It clawed at his throat, entered his nostrils like a +malignant force.</p> + +<p>As his consciousness faded a single thought was in his mind: <i>Born but +to live a few brief moments and die again. What sense is there to such +a farce as this? Born—but—to die—again. Portox! Help me! It can't +be—There must be some help!</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h2><i>On the Plains of Ofrid</i></h2> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_j.jpg" alt="J" width="26" height="40" /></div> + +<p>lomec the Nadian guided his air car across the grassy plains of Ofrid +but a scant few feet above the tops of the waving grasses.</p> + +<p>It was a fine day and the Nadian was taking full advantage of it. One +of a race of proud and noble fighting men, Jlomec was an exception to +the rule in that he was a dreamer rather than a fighter, a thinker +rather than a doer, a poet rather than a military strategist.</p> + +<p>Thus, his mind dwelt upon the historic incident of the previous days +when, standing beside his brother, Bontarc, he had watched the gray +tower of Portox the Ofridian explode into a fine cloud of dust.</p> + +<p>And it was characteristic of the gentle Jlomec that his mind was more +occupied with the romantic aspect of the incident than the violent. He +thought of the poem, the bit of doggerel carved in the foundation +stone of the tower. For a century all Tarthans had puzzled over the +verse put there by Portox so long ago:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An ape, a boar, a stallion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A land beyond the stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A virgin's feast, a raging beast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A prison without bars.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Had it any meaning? Jlomec wondered. A thousand different +interpretations had been put upon the verse over the years, but no one +knew for sure.</p> + +<p>That it had something to do with the slaughter of the Ofridians, +Jlomec was sure. But what?</p> + +<p>As he ruminated thus, Jlomec's attention was caught by moving figures +some ten jeks to the south. He knew this to be the location of one of +the great wells that dotted the Plains of Ofrid.</p> + +<p>In the times before the great massacre, these wells had been located +in the hearts of the fine Ofridian cities of which the Abarians stood +in great envy. These wells gushed endlessly of cool crystal water +which kept the fabulous hanging gardens of Ofrid multicolored and +beautiful.</p> + +<p>But all that was in the past. The Ofridians had been slain to a man +and their cities leveled until not a stone stood upon a stone. Now +lonely grasses grew where once glittered the results of Portox's great +scientific genius. Now there were only round steel doors in the ground +to mark the locations of the great Ofridian wells.</p> + +<p>These thoughts occupied Jlomec's mind as he turned his car and coursed +it in the direction of the well. The figures came clearly into view, +causing Jlomec to frown in puzzlement.</p> + +<p>What manner of people were these? There were a half dozen of them—two +men, three females, and one babe-in-arms. Jlomec got the impression +that—though they were erect and finely formed—that they were of +short stature.</p> + +<p>But now he realized he had got this impression only by their +comparison to the seventh figure by the well. He knew at a glance that +this seventh was an Abarian warrior, exceptionally tall and wearing +the look of grim cruelty so characteristic of his race.</p> + +<p>Jlomec paid the Abarian scant heed however, so engrossed was he in +studying the strange half-dozen. Their skins were richly browned and +they wore almost no clothing.</p> + +<p>Who could they be? Jlomec wondered, and from whence had they come? +Mightily intrigued, he moved forward until he came within earshot of +the party. Then, for reason of the words he heard spoken, he halted +his air car and frowned.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The Abarian, he recognized as the famed Retoc himself. A fierce stad +pawed the ground nearby indicating how the tall, sneering commander of +the Abarians had arrived at this spot. Retoc was known to roam the +Plains of Ofrid at times, still savoring the destruction he and his +sire, Harnod, had accomplished; pleasuring himself with memories of +bodies piled high, of bloody swords and helpless cries of the dying.</p> + +<p>Or was it for some other reason that Retoc roamed the plains? Was it a +nameless fear that drove him there? Did the accusing face of Portox +the Ofridian genius still hang balefully in his memory? Had Portox +acquainted the Abarian devil with knowledge that he alone carried in +his guilty heart? And did that knowledge generate a fear that Retoc +the Abarian could not rid himself of?</p> + +<p>At any rate, he now stood between the brown people and the Ofridian +well, enjoying a useless cruelty as was his custom.</p> + +<p>The leader of the group extended his hands in supplication and said, +"We only ask water, sire. A small thing, but long have we waited to +quench our thirst."</p> + +<p>Retoc said, "What manner of people are you?"</p> + +<p>"Harmless ones. See? We are unarmed and peaceful."</p> + +<p>"That does not answer my question. Tell me who you are and from whence +you came. Then we will see whether my fancy dictates that you shall +have water from this well."</p> + +<p>Indignation and rage dimmed Jlomec's better judgment. He had glided in +beyond range of Retoc's vision and now he leaped from his car and drew +his wandlike whip-sword. "Is there no drop of common decency or +compassion left in you, Retoc, that you do this thing to helpless +people?"</p> + +<p>The Abarian whirled with alarm not knowing what force might be arrayed +against him. But when he saw the lone Jlomec, his composure returned +and his self-assurance again took charge. Had the newcomer been +Bontarc, the dreamy Jlomec's skillful brother, Retoc the Abarian would +have conducted himself differently. But as it was, he sneered at the +gentle Nadian and asked, "What business of this is yours, Jlomec?"</p> + +<p>"Injustice is everyone's business. These people, whoever they are, ask +only to drink." Jlomec's eyes blazed. "And drink they shall, Abarian!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Retoc's handsome eyes glowed. No doubt as to the outcome of this +contest. He drew his own sword and whipped its supple length through +the air. "Since you choose to champion this scum, let's get on with +it."</p> + +<p>Had Jlomec's indignation not been of a quality to blind him to +consequences, he would have perhaps hesitated. But hot with this +injustice, he whipped his own sword and leaped at Retoc.</p> + +<p>The latter, with a grim smile of confidence, parried the thrust with +ease and manipulated his own whip-sword with a skill which few +fighting men on the planet Tarth could have equalled.</p> + +<p>The weapons were strange ones by Earth standards and would have +probably been considered impractical. They were a good six feet in +length with the supple resiliency of a fly casting rod. The trick of +using them effectively lay in controlling the sway and whip of the +long thin blades by skillful use of the wrist. An expert Tarthan +swordsman could parry a thrust with a lightning whip of his blade, arc +the singing steel in the opposite direction and perhaps bring his +opponent down with a thrust that would enter between his shoulder +blades, the sword still arced to describe half a circle.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In essence, this favorite weapon of the Tarthans was a combination of +whip and sword and combat was a matter of thrusting at angles far +wider than could be achieved with a stiff blade. A good Tarthan +swordsman would have been an excellent billiard player on Earth for +his knowledge of workable angles was of necessity supreme.</p> + +<p>Retoc the Abarian was a master at this swordplay. Enjoying himself +hugely because there was little risk, he toyed with the less skillful +Nadian. He did not intend to kill Jlomec, fearing the wrath of +Bontarc. He meant only to teach the stupid Nadian a lesson he would +not forget.</p> + +<p>But as his blade sang and stung, its needle point darting in like the +fangs of a snake's head, and as Jlomec's clumsy blade sought +desperately to parry, Retoc's blood lust rose to the fore. The joy of +dealing death to the helpless was upon him and with a swift thrust he +allowed his blade to enter Jlomec's unprotected back just above the +kidney, to streak upward through his body and pierce his heart.</p> + +<p>Frightened at what he had done he jerked the blade free. Its entwined +force whirled Jlomec in a complete circle from which he fell limply, +dead before he hit the ground.</p> + +<p>Retoc stood scowling at the fallen Nadian, his dripping blade rising +and falling gently in the breeze as he held it extended. The Abarian's +eyes darted to the group of brown-skinned folk, his anger centering +upon them as he nimbly switched the blame for this foul murder from +his own shoulders to theirs. If they had not been at the well—</p> + +<p>He was ready to extend his slaughter in their direction, to wipe out +the lot of them, when he paused, his scowl deepening. There was fear +and awe upon their faces but they were not regarding either Retoc or +his fallen adversary.</p> + +<p>Their eyes were turned in another direction and Retoc sent his own +glance after theirs. His eyes held upon what he saw. A naked man. But +such a man as he had never before seen on all the planet Tarth.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h2><i>The White God</i></h2> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="34" height="40" /></div> + +<p>ram Forest returned to consciousness and realized the black nausea of +his previous moments had vanished. All traces of the sickness were +gone as he opened his eyes, his mind intent upon the small flat +package that had dropped from the box in which he had found the +strange disc-like instrument. But the package was not within reach.</p> + +<p>This caused only a small part of his bewilderment however. His +attention was riveted mainly upon the tableaux being enacted before +him. A group of people, almost as naked as himself, deeply browned of +skin, stood huddled nearby.</p> + +<p>Almost as though for the entertainment of these, two grim and +uniformed warriors were facing each other on the level turf before the +strange circular ground-entrance beside which Bram Forest found +himself.</p> + +<p>The two warriors possessed strange supple swords which they +manipulated with much skill. At least, one of the warriors did. The +other seemed clumsy in comparison but there was no hint of cowardice +in his manner.</p> + +<p>Upon closer inspection the two warriors who had seemed of a cut at +first glance were quite dissimilar. The one of greater skill was dark +and possessed of a cruel mouth and venomous dark eyes. The other was +slim and fair with contemptuous blue eyes. He fought with an erect +stiffness in his shoulders which was both awkward and dignified at the +same time.</p> + +<p>The sympathy of Bram Forest went out instinctively to the fair one but +the dark, sinister swordsman held his attention. There was something +naggingly familiar about the dark one's cruel face. A tantalizing +familiarity that bemused Bram Forest even as the singing swords +thrust and parried with that of the dark warrior always on the +offensive and the other fighter striving more for self-preservation +than for aggressiveness.</p> + +<p>Where, Bram Forest wondered, had he seen the dark one before? Nowhere, +of course. Any previous contact was impossible. Or was it? Dared he, +Bram Forest, call anything impossible after what had already occurred?</p> + +<p>Bram Forest glanced down and realized he had been removing the disc +from his left wrist and placing it on his right. He had committed the +act instinctively, in the same manner he breathed and moved and his +mind went back momentarily to the two tubes he had found in his ears +when he awoke in the cavern back on Earth.</p> + +<p>Back on Earth? How did he know he was not still on that planet? I've +got to stop questioning these things I possess knowledge of but know +not why. I must take them at face value and without wonder. Otherwise +I shall spend all my years in conflict with my own mind.</p> + +<p>At that moment, the dark warrior's whip-sword whined in a skillful arc +and entered the body of the fair one. A moan of sympathy arose from +the waiting group as the defeated warrior sank to the ground, his face +strained in agony and fast becoming a death-mask.</p> + +<p>The dark warrior stepped back, a cruel sneer of satisfaction gleaming +in his eyes. Bram Forest, sickened by the unequal contest rose up from +where he lay and moved forward. This drew the attention of both the +group and the victorious warrior and the effect was electric.</p> + +<p>The huddled observers reacted with a mixture of consternation, awe, +and fear that would have been comic under less tense circumstances. +They dropped as one to their knees. They placed their foreheads upon +the ground. A concerted moan escaped them that far transcended in +depth and feeling the one with which they had reacted to the death of +the fair warrior.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In a language Bram Forest was completely familiar with, their voices +sounded a chant of fear and awe. "The white god has come! The white +god has come! The white god has come!"</p> + +<p>Bram Forest scarcely considered them. He was advancing upon the dark +warrior with the clean, stalking movements of a tiger, his great +shoulders low, his magnificent legs tense for the death spring.</p> + +<p>The dark one was frozen from surprise. From whence had this naked +white creature erupted? He stood stiff from sudden fear and +uncertainty a moment too long and the hands of the avenger were upon +him. The fingers of those hands were like steel talons driving deep +into his throat and in his panicked mind he looked upon the face of +death and found it horrible. He was being driven down to the ground, +lower and lower in abject submission by this strange and terrible +manifestation the brown-skinned ones had called a white god.</p> + +<p>The dark warrior's mind raced and in his terrorized desperation a +native cunning sprang to his aid. Using every ounce of his remaining +strength, he forced words up from his tortured throat. "Would you kill +an unarmed man?"</p> + +<p>The words touched a responsive chord in Bram Forest's mind. The craven +spoke aptly. By killing him thus, was not Bram Forest doing the same +thing for which he had condemned the other?</p> + +<p>Bram Forest straightened and hurled the cringing figure from him. +"Then defend yourself, swine!" he cried and seized up the dead +warrior's shining whip sword.</p> + +<p>The dark one sought means of escape but he feared turning from this +avenger as much as facing him. He could only play for time.</p> + +<p>Rising, he retrieved his own sword and faced the other with his +expression of fear not one whit abated. The man of the steel hands +whipped the sword experimentally and the dark one was struck by a ray +of hope. The other's actions with the blade were as clumsy as had been +those of Jlomec the Nadian. Perhaps all was not lost.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The dark one gripped his blade and moved forward in the customary +crouch of the Tarthan fighting man. Then elation welled up within him +as the answering posture of the other revealed him as knowing nothing +whatever of the whip-sword's use. The dark one's smile returned. God +or not, the skill of this one with the ancient weapon of Tarth was +even less than that of the pathetic Jlomec.</p> + +<p>The dark warrior parried a clumsy thrust with ease and whipped his +blade around to harass the other's exposed back. "You are a fool!" he +said, "whatever else you may be. As you die, give thought to the fact +that you join a large company. Those who have faced the greatest +swordsman of Tarth and fallen ignobly before his blade."</p> + +<p>With that the dark one whipped his blade home and spun his adversary +expertly in order to discover the exact point of entrance of the +blade. His aim was true.</p> + +<p>It was just a trifle low but the other fell heavily and the dark +warrior withdrew his blade and wiped it uneasily. His nervousness +sprang from fear. If one of these so-called gods had appeared, why not +two, or four, or a dozen? The Tarthan swordsman, well up on the +principles of discretion, felt a sudden urge to be quit of this +locality.</p> + +<p>It was indeed a disconcerting place. Brown folk, the identity and +origin of which he knew not. A white creature with steel hands +appearing from nowhere. What would the next manifestation be?</p> + +<p>The dark warrior moved swiftly toward his waiting stad. He mounted and +rode away and not until the figures about the well were tiny spots +almost beyond range of his vision, did he again breathe easily.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h2><i>The Brown Virgin</i></h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="34" height="40" /></div> +<p>ram Forest moved from unconscious into a dark half-world of pain and +frustration. He felt his flame-seared body to be hanging upon the edge +of a black abyss into which he could neither fall nor draw away from.</p> + +<p>At times, it seemed, gentle hands reached out to explore but were +without the strength to draw him back from the perilous precipice upon +which he hung.</p> + +<p>There was an endless time of balance in this dark half-world and then +the thick blackness faded to a gray, the precipice seemed to draw away +of its own volition, and the pain within him lessened.</p> + +<p>He opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>He was lying on a bed of soft, cool moss in a semi-dark cavern with +the sound of tinkling water in the distance. He lay staring at the +ceiling for a long time, wondering into what manner of place he had +come and how. Then his keen ears caught the sound of breathing other +than his own; a soft breathing that fell gently upon his senses and +calmed rather than alerted him.</p> + +<p>He turned his head and saw a beautiful, naked brown-skinned girl +kneeling nearby but beyond his reach. He was struck first by the +beauty of her face and form and then by the fact that she was not as +completely brown as his first impression had given him to believe. Her +breasts and loins were of pure white and droplets of shining water ran +down her body.</p> + +<p>She was in the act of replacing a sort of leather harness upon her +person and Bram Forest realized she had just returned from bathing at +whatever place the unseen water gurgled and laughed and that she was +now dressing herself.</p> + +<p>He held his peace until the act was completed, not wishing to +embarrass her by making his consciousness known while she was nude.</p> + +<p>After a few moments, the harness was in place and she rose to stand +erect and shake out her dark shining hair. Bram Forest chose this time +to speak. "I do not know who you are, but I am obviously in your debt. +My gratitude."</p> + +<p>The girl reacted like a startled fawn and drew back several paces. +"You have regained consciousness?"</p> + +<p>"It seems so. Where is this place and how came I here?"</p> + +<p>"We brought you."</p> + +<p>Bram Forest's brow furrowed in thought. "Oh, yes. Now I remember. +There were a group of people such as you at the place I tried to fight +the dark swordsman with his own weapons." Bram Forest chuckled +ruefully. "It seems I did not fare so well."</p> + +<p>"When we discovered you were not our god, the others wanted to leave +you there to die but I resisted this as being inhuman and made them +bring you here."</p> + +<p>"Where are the rest?"</p> + +<p>"They have returned."</p> + +<p>"Returned whence?"</p> + +<p>The girl lowered her beautiful head sadly. "That I cannot tell you."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bram Forest smiled. "Be not so sad. The fact that you prefer to keep +the information to yourself is no reason for near-tears."</p> + +<p>"I am not sad for that reason, sire."</p> + +<p>"Then why?"</p> + +<p>"Because you asked the question and are even more surely therefore, +not our god."</p> + +<p>Bram Forest was deeply curious and half-amused at the trend of this +conversation. "Tell me this, then. Why does my asking the question +eliminate all possibility of my being your god?"</p> + +<p>"Because if you were the god we seek and yearn for, you would not have +to ask where my people went. You would know."</p> + +<p>"Instead of clarifying the situation," Bram Forest mused, "each +question sends me deeper and deeper into a mental labyrinth."</p> + +<p>"We risked our lives in going to the place you found us. It was +forbidden to credit the ancient legend of our people. Therefore—"</p> + +<p>"What legend?"</p> + +<p>"That upon this day and at that place our god would appear to deliver +us."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bram Forest, now desperately seeking a question that would clarify +rather than further befuddle, held up his hand. "Wait. If you expected +a god to appear and I arrived on schedule, how can you be so sure that +I am not he?"</p> + +<p>"We thought so when you advanced upon the hideous Abarian and took his +throat in your great hands. But when you not only allowed him to live +but also suffered him to take up his whip-sword and come within an +eyelash of killing you, we knew you were not our god."</p> + +<p>Bram Forest nodded with understanding. "I can see now how stupid that +act was. Certainly not a manner in which a genuine god would conduct +himself." He glanced at the girl and smiled. "Please come closer that +I may see you better."</p> + +<p>She moved her head in the negative, reluctantly, Bram Forest thought, +and replied, "If you were our god I would gladly place myself in your +power to do with me as you would, but as you are mortal, I must remain +away from you."</p> + +<p>Bram Forest frowned. "Again things get murky."</p> + +<p>"I am a virgin," the beautiful girl explained simply and with no +self-consciousness whatever. "I must remain so until my time is +ordained. If I lost my virginity, even through violation that I +resist, I would immediately be delivered into the Golden Ape."</p> + +<p>Bram Forest came upright, causing the girl to retreat a step further +in alarm. "The Golden Ape, did you say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And you are a virgin—"</p> + +<p>This last was a statement rather than a question as Bram Forest sank +back, his eyes misty with thought. "An ape, a boar, a stallion—" he +pondered. "A virgin's feast—"</p> + +<p>The girl eyed him with concern. "Are you sure that your wound has not +caused—"</p> + +<p>"It is not that," he said, switching his mind back to things of the +moment. "I'm just wondering—might you tell me your name without +breaking any rules of reticence?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"I am Ylia," she said with a childlike solemnity that touched Bram +Forest.</p> + +<p>"And does Ylia never smile?"</p> + +<p>It seemed to him she made an effort to do this but was so unfamiliar +with the expression that she could not manage it.</p> + +<p>He extended a hand, not disconcerted that she did not come close and +take it. He said, "Ylia, I would not again ask a question you did not +wish to answer before. But I am mightily puzzled about the life you +must have led—about that manner of males you have had contact with. +They are certainly a miserable lot if a female of their race must look +to her virtue every waking moment.</p> + +<p>"As for me, Ylia—and please believe—I would no more touch you in +desire than I would knowingly injure a child. You are safe in my +presence as in the most guarded room of a nunnery."</p> + +<p>If he expected gratitude or a pat on the back for his nobility, he was +rudely surprised. Ylia straightened, her young breasts protruding +gracefully and if she did not react with anger, her face mirrored +something close to it.</p> + +<p>"Then I am not desirable?"</p> + +<p>Bram Forest blinked. "I did not say that. You are one of the fairest I +have ever set eyes upon."</p> + +<p>This puzzled Ylia completely. "Then in the name of the Golden Ape, +why—?"</p> + +<p>Bram Forest raised his hand with a gesture of both interruption and +surrender. "Please! Let us pursue this subject no further. The waters +grow deep and I suspect quicksand at their bottom. There are questions +in my mind. Allow me to bring them forth with the understanding that +you do not have to answer any you do not wish to."</p> + +<p>It was evident that Ylia's mind was also a bag of conundrums relative +to this late candidate for godhood who had insulted her desirability +and yet complimented her upon it at the same time. She moved forward +and sat gracefully down near the moss resting place of her patient.</p> + +<p>Bram Forest was aware of her tenseness. She was like a beautiful +animal ready to spring away at the first sign of hostile movement on +his part. But he also got the impression that coming within reach of +his arms thrilled her. He believed this even while knowing that she +would have fought like a tigress against any advance upon his part.</p> + +<p>He said, "Ylia, you are indeed a strange child. You remained here +after your people left and brought me back from the brink of death +even with the fear that I would rise up and violate you as soon as I +acquired the strength to do so. Your thought processes are difficult +to understand."</p> + +<p>Ylia lowered her eyes. "You wished to ask some questions, sire."</p> + +<p>"My name is Bram Forest. The <i>sire</i> ill-becomes you."</p> + +<p>"Bram—Forest," she murmured experimentally. Then she raised her eyes +and there dawned upon her face the most brilliant of smiles. Her look +was one of both dignity and gratitude. "You do me much honor, Bram +Forest!"</p> + +<p>"Honor? I fail to understand."</p> + +<p>Ylia's eyes glowed proudly. "Why, you treat me with such respect that +I could be even Volna herself!"</p> + +<p>"And who is this Volna?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Ylia was startled at this strange man's ignorance. "Why, everyone on +Tarth knows of Volna, Princess of Nadia, sister of Bontarc, who is +Prince of Nadia and ruler of that great nation. She is the most +exquisitely beautiful woman ever to be born on Tarth."</p> + +<p>"Fancy that," Bram Forest said with a lack of enthusiasm that proved +marked disinterest. "I'm afraid I've never had the pleasure of the +lady's acquaintance, nor of her illustrious brother, either."</p> + +<p>Ylia lowered her eyes in sadness. "She was also the sister of Jlomec."</p> + +<p>"And who, pray is Jlomec?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you knew since you tried to avenge his death. He was the +Nadian the cruel Abarian Retoc slew under your very eyes."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to hear that," Bram Forest said. But the cowardly death had +been accomplished and Bram Forest's mind did not dwell upon it as he +could not see where it affected him one way or another.</p> + +<p>"Ylia," he said, "take it as a supposition that I was born this very +moment and know nothing of this world or its customs. With that in +mind, tell me of it—the things you would tell a wondering child."</p> + +<p>She glanced at him strangely. "I will tell you all that I am not bound +to hold secret."</p> + +<p>"I would not wish to know more."</p> + +<p>The beautiful Ylia leaned forward, so preoccupied with the task she +had set herself that all her reserve and wariness left her. Her action +brought her lowered head close to Bram Forest's face and the sweet +smell of her newly washed and shining hair was in his nostrils. Then +he also became preoccupied with the map Ylia was drawing on the floor +of the cavern.</p> + +<p>Long they sat thus, Ylia enjoying her task and Bram Forest's facile +mind drawing in each syllable she spoke and committing it to memory.</p> + +<p>Finally the sun lowered and the interior of the cavern darkened until +they could no longer see each other. The most important conviction +Bram Forest arrived at from Ylia's discourse was indeed a startling +one. He was certain that this Tarth was a twin planet to Earth of +which there was complete knowledge in his mind. He could hardly escape +the fact that Tarth swung in an orbit exactly opposite to that of its +more familiar counterpart, thus remaining invisible from it.</p> + +<p>This conviction came to him through several things Ylia said and it +was buttressed by a bit of Tarthan mythology she chanced to mention. +The legend told of a flame-god, obviously the sun, which stood forth +in its wrath one long-distant day and hurled two great stones at a +demon who came from far away bent upon torment. This last Bram Forest +thought, was perhaps a comet of great size that tore both worlds from +the sun and set them upon their orbits. The existence of the +mythological legend indicated too, that civilization on Tarth was not +backward or at least had not been in ages gone.</p> + +<p>In the more exact realm, Bram Forest learned that Tarth was far less +watery than its invisible sister, scarcely half its surface consisting +of ocean. It had two ice caps at the poles, known as the Outer Reaches +and an equator termed the Inner Belt.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There were no isolated continents according to Ylia's map, all the dry +surfaces being connected by wide passages of land through the +continuous ocean.</p> + +<p>Ylia's description of the people interested Bram Forest most +intensely. On Tarth, he learned, there was no association of nations, +each mistrusting the others in a world where a state of continuous war +at some point of the globe was an accepted state of affairs which no +one sought to ameliorate.</p> + +<p>Ylia herself was hazy upon the description and number of the nations. +She thought some two hundred existed but only the most important could +she describe.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The Abarians were the most successfully warlike, fearing only the +Nadians to the south. This because though the Nadians were not +aggressive and even treated other lesser nations in a kindly fashion, +they possessed an inherent fighting skill and a power potential that +had not been tested in recallable history. Though they had not fought +for centuries, their potential had not lessened because such a folly +would have been considered tantamount to national suicide on Tarth.</p> + +<p>There were also the Utalians that Bram Forest visualized as some sort +of lizard men for the reason that they possessed the defensive +characteristics of the chameleon. There was also another intriguing +race, no member of which Ylia had ever seen. She referred to them as +the Twin People of Coom, an area near the north Outer Reach. Bram +Forest speculated upon what manner of people they would be and it came +to him that the evolutionary processes on Tarth had not corresponded +to those of Earth, where all members of the human race evolved into +practically the same form.</p> + +<p>Then a name came into Bram Forest's mind; a name that rose out of that +mysterious well of knowledge in his subconscious; a well he could not +explain but had been forced to accept. He no longer questioned it.</p> + +<p>"Tell me of the Ofridians."</p> + +<p>Ylia started as though he had slapped her. The deep brown of her +beautiful face paled somewhat and her eyes grew very sad.</p> + +<p>Bram Forest saw the sadness by the light of the moon, that had risen +and was sending wan light in through the cavern's entrance. He only +sensed the paleness from the tremor of Ylia's voice. "It grows late. I +must go and bring food. Your strength must be nurtured and +greatened."</p> + +<p>With that, she hurried off in the direction of the sounding water, +leaving Bram Forest both bewildered and intrigued. Why had she reacted +so violently to his question? And for that matter, why had he been +able to ask the question in the first place? By what process did he +know the name <i>Ofrid</i> and that it designated a nation on Tarth, +without knowing of that nation and already possessing the knowledge +for which he had begged the patient and beautiful Ylia?</p> + +<p>Then he remembered that he had resolved not to wonder about these +things—and at the same instant, remembered something else.</p> + +<p>The small, flat package that had fallen from the box back on Earth. It +had been his first thought upon regaining consciousness near the +Ofridian well but it had been pushed from his mind by subsequent +events.</p> + +<p>How long ago had that been? He tried to assess the passage of time but +failed. The only indication of its length was the fact that he bore no +wound where the Abarian's blade had entered his body. That pointed to +a long span of unconsciousness but perhaps there were contributing +factors.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He had sensed that the mysterious Ylia had at her command something +that had healed him very swiftly but he had no proof of this.</p> + +<p>At any rate, he had to retrieve the package if possible. But would it +be possible? Granted the strange disc had brought him somehow from +Earth to Tarth, would it repeat the process in the opposite direction?</p> + +<p>He resolved to find out and began unbuckling the disc from its place +on his right wrist.</p> + +<p>As he did this a sound manifested outside the cavern but he was so +intent upon his task that he gave little note. Quickly, he strapped +the disc into its potent position on his left wrist. Then he sat +tensely awaiting the reaction.</p> + +<p>As he waited, the sound without became so pronounced he could no +longer ignore it. He raised his head and saw a tall, sinister form +outlined against the moonlight. He was unable to distinguish the +features, but the outline told a sickening truth. Also the drawn +whip-sword spoke eloquently of who this intruder was.</p> + +<p>The Abarian of the Ofridian well in search of prey. The cowardly +assassin who would now enter and find a defenseless man and a +beautiful girl who would set him aflame with lust.</p> + +<p>Rage threw a red curtain over Bram Forest's eyes as he struggled up to +meet the intruder. But the latter never saw him because at that moment +the now-familiar nausea seized Bram Forest's vitals, doubling him +over.</p> + +<p>And when the Abarian had advanced into the cavern, he found only an +empty bed of moss, Bram Forest having been snatched up and whirled +into darkness by the relentless hand of time put into terrifying +motion.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img class="img1" src="images/cover_2.jpg" width="400" height="555" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h2><i>In Custody</i></h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="34" height="40" /></div> +<p>ram Forest regained consciousness upon a grassy slope across which +slanted the rays of a setting sun. The same sun that had warmed him +upon the planet Tarth—of this he was certain.</p> + +<p>He arose and glanced about quickly, realizing—while he was sure he +had returned to Earth—that he could be many miles from the mysterious +mansion under which he had spent one hundred years.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_003.jpg" width="600" height="590" alt="Screaming, Ylia offered her own body in defense of her +loved one." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Screaming, Ylia offered her own body in defense of her +loved one.</span> +</div> + +<p>At first his heart sank because the terrain was not at all familiar. +Then it rose again as he saw the tower of the gray mansion pushing +somberly above the line of the forest top. He stood for a moment, +orienting himself with the tower the center of his calculations. Then +he moved out of the glade toward his right.</p> + +<p>But he had gone scarcely ten feet into the wooded area when his +sharpened instincts gave him quick warning and he dropped like a stone +and lay still.</p> + +<p>The sound of footsteps greatened until their echo came loud in his +ears and a man passed not ten feet from his outstretched hands.</p> + +<p>The man wore the blue uniform and smart cap of a state trooper and he +was on the alert but not so much so as to detect the silent Bram +Forest.</p> + +<p>The latter, with the first moment he had had to give thought to +himself since he had awakened in the cavern on the Plains of Ofrid, +realized suddenly that he was no longer naked. He had of course been +vaguely aware of this before but now he gave it his attention and +realized what had happened. He focused on past events.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>During his time of unconsciousness from the treacherous Abarian's +blade thrust, the beautiful Ylia had garbed him in the brilliant +uniform of the slain Nadian, Jlomec. This uniform was both colorful +and practical but it did nothing to either hide or encumber the great +muscles of his chest and arms, thighs.</p> + +<p>The State Trooper passed on his way and Bram Forest wondered what he +was doing about the old mansion. But this did not occupy his thoughts +for long. As soon as the way was clear, he moved like a great cat +through the underbrush toward the spot from whence he had made his +exodus to the planet Tarth. As he skirted the last glade, he prayed +that the second article in the box containing the fabulous disc he had +now switched to his right wrist, still lay where he had carelessly +dropped it.</p> + +<p>He came to the edge of the open field and warily surveyed the terrain. +No one was in sight. He strained his ears for the sound of any +approaching footsteps and heard nothing. He sprang swiftly into the +open and ran across the field.</p> + +<p>It was there—the flat white package—exactly where he had dropped it +that first morning. He swept it up, intent upon returning to the +shelter of the forest.</p> + +<p>But his interest in what lay beneath the white paper wrapping had +grown to such a point of intensity that his footsteps lagged, his +attention riveted upon the tantalizing thing, and he came to a full +stop mid-field while his strong fingers tore at the wrappings.</p> + +<p>The white parchment came away and Bram Forest stared at what was +revealed. Then a strange and terrifying change came over him. His +handsome features contorted as every drop of blood was drained from +his face. His great frame shook as with an illness and such a +demoniacal rage came over him as few people in this or any other world +have seen.</p> + +<p>Now a great and terrifying cry arose from his throat; a cry that make +even the beasts of this forest freeze in their tracks and crouch lower +in their places of concealment. A cry of such rage and agony that even +the trees of the forest seemed to pause and listen in mute wonder....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Mulcahey Davis, State Trooper, picked brambles from the legs of his +blue uniform and cursed his assignment in no uncertain terms.</p> + +<p>Why in the name of law and decency had he and Mowbray been ordered to +patrol this tangled, deserted spook-hole? Sure—the body of some old +hobo had been found in a well with rocks thrown on it but what were he +and Mowbray going to prove by tramping around through these brambles?</p> + +<p>Mulcahey Davis heard footsteps and looked up to see Mowbray laboring +across the last few yards of his beat. Mowbray broke from the last +clutching strands of thorn bush and began beating burrs from his legs. +"Find anything?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not a blasted thing. It's downright crazy, our clambering around this +woods. What will we find? A couple of rabbits?"</p> + +<p>"That body in the well has to be investigated," Mowbray said, +seriously. "Pretty odd deal."</p> + +<p>"What progress have they made?"</p> + +<p>"They've located the outfit that held this place in trust, but the guy +in charge had a stroke or something. He can't be questioned. They may +never be able to question him. An old guy named Pride. He's in pretty +bad shape."</p> + +<p>"Chances are he wouldn't know anything about it even if they could ask +him. What would he have been doing out here?"</p> + +<p>"There's that funny fire in the basement, too. Nothing routine about +that. Fire so hot it melted rock. A lot of unanswered questions +here."</p> + +<p>"If they'd ask me, I'd tell them—"</p> + +<p>Mulcahey Davis' throat froze as a terrible cry smote his ears. Mowbray +paled suddenly and the two men looked at each other in instinctive +fear.</p> + +<p>But they were tried and tested law-enforcement officers and were not +held in the grip of terror for long. "Did you hear that?" Mulcahey +Davis said.</p> + +<p>"Good lord, man! How could I help it!"</p> + +<p>"Where'd it come from?"</p> + +<p>"Over there."</p> + +<p>"Let's go."</p> + +<p>The two troopers plunged again into the undergrowth to emerge at the +edge of an open field. And regardless of their personal courage and +experience in their line of effort, what they saw froze them anew.</p> + +<p>A giant of a man—a creature of godlike proportions stood in the open +field, washed by the rays of the setting sun. His great arms were held +aloft and he was looking up into the sky with a terrifying expression +that was a mixture of pain and rage.</p> + +<p>He was speaking and his great voice echoed in what was remindful of a +thunderous prayer. "I know not the purpose for which I was created but +well do I now know my dedicated task. Vengeance! Vengeance such as +this world or any other has never seen!"</p> + +<p>With this the giant—clad in a strange colorful uniform of some +sort—dropped to his knees and lowered his great head into his hands.</p> + +<p>Mowbray's face was grim and alert. "Come on," he whispered. "We're +behind him so we get a break. Move in quietly. And let's get him +before he sees us. I've got a hunch he could lick ten of us and we +don't want to use our guns."</p> + +<p>They crossed the field softly and moved in behind the kneeling man. +They acted in concert with an expertness telling of lengthy +experience.</p> + +<p>Mowbray was thankful for the way it turned out. He knew not why the +giant put up no resistance. The man seemed stunned as from a great +blow and before he could recover, the troopers had him bound hand and +foot with their belts.</p> + +<p>Mulcahey Davis got to his feet and wiped the sweat from his face. +"There's one for the psychos and a padded cell afterwards."</p> + +<p>"You said it," Mowbray agreed heartily. "Let's take him in."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h2><i>The Road to Nadia</i></h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="31" height="40" /></div> +<p>he stads of Abaria, like the masters who rode them, were +ill-accustomed to the clear cold air of Nadia. They snorted visible +jets of vapor into the crisp air as their splayed feet scratched and +slipped, seeking purchase on the ice-covered, up-tilted rocky plain.</p> + +<p>"It's an accursed country, lord," Hultax told the king of the Abarians +as their steeds advanced shoulder and shoulder.</p> + +<p>Retoc sat tall and straight on the stad's broad back, his black cloak +with the royal emblem billowing in the stiff wind, his hard handsome +face ruddy with the cold air, his cruel eyes mere slits against the +Nadian wind. "Quiet, you fool," he admonished Hultax. "Everything we +Abarians say and do in Nadia must be sweetness and light—now."</p> + +<p>The vanguard of the long column of Abarian riders had reached a +rushing mountain stream, its waters too swift to freeze in the +sub-zero temperature. Lifting one hand overhead, Retoc called a halt.</p> + +<p>"They'll find out, lord," Hultax persisted. "They'll find out what you +did. I know they will. They'll find out it was you who killed Jlomec, +their ruler's brother."</p> + +<p>Retoc smiled. The smile made Hultax' blood run cold, for he had seen +such a smile before—when Retoc witnessed the execution of disloyal +Abarian subjects. The smile hardened on Retoc's face, as if it had +frozen there in the cold Nadian wind. "Dismount your steed," he said +in a soft voice which only Hultax heard.</p> + +<p>Trembling, Hultax obeyed his master's command. His stad, suddenly +riderless, pawed nervously at the frost-hardened ground on the edge of +the stream. Retoc withdrew his whip-sword and fondled the +jewel-encrusted haft. "If you ever say that again, here in Nadia or +elsewhere, I will kill you," he warned his lieutenant.</p> + +<p>"But the brown girl—"</p> + +<p>"The brown girl be damned!" roared Retoc in sudden fury.</p> + +<p>"We haven't been able to find her. That day at the cave, she came +rushing out, lord, while you—"</p> + +<p>"I was detained," Retoc said, some of the passion gone from his voice. +He would never forget the sight of the iron-thewed young man, who once +had almost strangled him, growing suddenly, incredibly transparent, +then disappearing. He had stood there, whip-sword in hand, mouth +agape, while the brown girl ran past him and—according to what Hultax +had told him later—mounted his own stad and vanished across the +Ofridian plain.</p> + +<p>"But lord, don't you see?" Hultax demanded. "The brown girl knows what +happened to Jlomec, prince of the royal Nadian blood. If she attends +the royal funeral. She will—"</p> + +<p>Retoc laughed. Hultax blanched. He had heard such laughter when +enemies of Retoc and thus of Abaria had died in pain. "Fool, fool!" he +heard Retoc say now. "Think you a bedraggled wayfaring maid of the +Ofridian desert will be invited to the funeral of a prince of the +Nadian royal blood?"</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, sire," Hultax persisted, "that day at the cave I took +the liberty to send three of our best stadsmen after the girl with +orders to capture her or kill her on sight."</p> + +<p>Slowly, as a thaw spreads in spring over the broad Nadian ice fields, +Retoc smiled at his second in command. Hultax too let his face relax +into a grateful grin: until now he had been teetering on the brink of +violent death, and he knew it.</p> + +<p>"You may mount," Retoc said.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Hastily Hultax climbed astride his stad. Retoc lifted his arm overhead +and made a circular motion with his outstretched hand. The first of +the Abarian stads advanced with some reluctance into the swift cold +shallow water of the stream.</p> + +<p>"What about the white giant?" Hultax asked unwisely when the entire +party had reached the other side and Retoc was urging his stad up the +slippery bank.</p> + +<p>"Have your scouts been able to find the wayfarers who saw him?"</p> + +<p>"No, sire. Only the girl nursed him back to health. The others fled."</p> + +<p>"And wisely. They have learned to hold their tongues, as you should +learn, Hultax. They will give us no trouble. As far as they are +concerned, there is no white giant."</p> + +<p>"But there is talk of what happened at the Tower, and of Portox' +wizardry, and a god who would return, full-grown in exactly a hundred +years—"</p> + +<p>"Shut up!" Retoc cried, almost screaming the words.</p> + +<p>But that night at the Abarian encampment a day and a half's march +from Nadia city, Retoc dreamed of Queen Evalla, the lovely Ofridian +ruler whose slow death by torture he had relished as the final act of +his utter destruction of the once proud Ofridian nation. Evalla in the +dream seemed happy and confident. Retoc awoke sweating although frigid +winds howled over the Nadian ice-fields. Her confidence sent unknown +fear through him.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Really, it's quite simple," the superbly-muscled prisoner said in the +language which was not his own but which he could speak as well as a +native. "You see, it wasn't simple at all until I saw what was in the +package, but it's quite simple now. In the package was a picture of my +mother, the dead Queen Evalla. I am her son. I am of the royal blood. +When I saw the picture, it suddenly triggered my memory-responses, as +Portox had arranged. Then—"</p> + +<p>"What about the old guy in the well?" the trooper asked +unimaginatively.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry. I can't answer your questions now. I have to return to my +home. The handful of wayfarers who alone are left of a once great +nation are waiting for vengeance. I will...."</p> + +<p>His voice trailed on, earnestly, politely. The trooper looked at the +man from the state mental hospital, who shook his head slowly. They +left the powerful, polite prisoner in his cell and went through the +corridor to the prison office.</p> + +<p>"Real weirdy, huh, doc?" the trooper said.</p> + +<p>"A—uh—weirdy to you, but rather cut and dry to me, I'm afraid," Dr. +Slonamn said. "Delusions of grandeur and delusions of persecution. +Advanced paranoia, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>"It's funny, doc. When they took everything away from him he might +hurt himself with, he didn't mind at all. Only the bracelet. Three +strong men had to hold him when they took the bracelet."</p> + +<p>"Bracelet?" Dr. Slonamn said.</p> + +<p>"We got it in the office. I'll show you."</p> + +<p>The bracelet turned out to be a small, mesh-metal strap as wide around +as a big man's upper arm. Attached to the strap was a disc of silvery +metal.</p> + +<p>"You'd think it was worth a million bucks," the trooper said.</p> + +<p>Dr. Slonamn nodded sagely. "Paranoid. It helps confirm the diagnosis. +You see, out of touch with the real world, a paranoid can attach great +value to utterly worthless objects. Well, I'll write out my report, +sergeant."</p> + +<p>"Captain Caruthers said to thank you, sir."</p> + +<p>"Not at all. Part of my job."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, back in his cell, the prisoner, big hands gripping the bars +so tight that his knuckles were white, was thinking: <i>I've got to make +them understand. Somehow I've got to make them understand before it's +too late.</i></p> + +<p>He closed his eyes, lost in intense thought. When he did so, an image +swam before his mind's eye. He did not know how this could be, but +ascribed it to more of the dead Portox' magic.</p> + +<p>What he saw was the barren ice fields of Nadia, with several great +caravans making their slow way across the bleak blazing whiteness +toward Nadia City. As was the custom in Nadia, the prisoner—whose +name was Bram Forest—knew, great funeral games would be held to honor +the memory of the late beloved Prince Jlomec. And it was here in +frigid Nadia, at such a time as this, when all the royal blood of all +the royal households of Tarth gathered, the wizardry of Portox seemed +to tell him, that vengeance would come. Here, if only....</p> + +<p><i>Ylia!</i></p> + +<p>The image blurred. He had seen her once. His knuckles went white as +bleached bone on the bars. He concentrated every atom of his will. +<i>Ylia, Ylia!</i> But now with his eyes shut he saw nothing. With his eyes +opened, only the bars of his cell and the cell-block corridor beyond. +<i>Ylia, Ylia! Hear me. There is danger on the road to Nadia. Ylia....</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h2><i>On the Ice Fields of Nadia</i></h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="34" height="40" /></div> +<p>'ronth the Utalian left footprints in the snow.</p> + +<p>Otherwise, B'ronth was invisible. But if a hidden observer watched the +Utalian's slow progress across the ice fields of Nadia he would see +where the ice was soft or where snow had fallen during the night into +the gullies, the unexpected, mysterious appearance of footprints, a +left staggered after a right, then another left, then a right again, +then a left.</p> + +<p>Actually, B'ronth the Utalian was not invisible. But like all +Utalians, he was a chameleon of a man. Within seconds his skin would +assume the color of its environment, utterly and completely. Thus, +from above B'ronth the Utalian was the dazzling white of the Nadian +ice-fields; from below, looking up at the pale cloudless sky, he was +cold, transparent blue.</p> + +<p>All morning he had been trailing the girl. He had reached her camp on +the road to Nadia only moments after she had quit it in company with +an old man. From the tattered snow cloaks they wore, they both clearly +were wayfarers. B'ronth could have challenged them at once, sprinting +across the ice toward them, but he hadn't done that. B'ronth the +Utalian was a coward. He accepted the fact objectively: his people +were notorious cowards. The proper time would come, he told himself. +There would come a time when the girl and the old man were helpless. +Then he, B'ronth, would strike.</p> + +<p>The day before an Abarian warrior had given him a description of the +girl and had promised him a bag of gold for her capture, half a bag of +gold if he killed her and could prove it. A bag of gold, he thought. +He would take her alive. It was a long, cold road to Nadia City. True, +B'ronth the Utalian was small of stature, a puny creature like all his +people. And there were certain disadvantages in his perfect +camouflage. He was walking naked across the ice-fields in order to +remain unseen. His flesh shivered and his bones were stiff. But a +Nadian boy named Lulukee, whom B'ronth had promised half the gold, was +not many minutes' march behind him with warm clothing, food, and +drink. After he captured the girl....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Invisible, he mounted a rise where solid sheet ice adhered to the +shoulder of a rocky hill. Below him, traversing a snow-floored valley +and so far away that they were mere dots against the snow, were the +old man and the girl.</p> + +<p>B'ronth the Utalian chuckled. The sound was swept up instantly and +dispersed by the wind. It was a cold wind and it all but froze B'ronth +to the marrow, but the Nadian sun was surprisingly warm and now seemed +to beam down on him with promise of his golden reward. Shivering both +from cold and delight, the invisible Utalian walked swiftly down into +the snow-mantled valley.</p> + +<p>There would be a trail of footprints for the boy Lulukee to +follow....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Cold, Hammeth?" Ylia asked her companion.</p> + +<p>"No, girl. I'll manage if you will. Is it much further?"</p> + +<p>"Half a day's march to Nadia City yet, I'm afraid," Ylia said. "We +could rest if you wish."</p> + +<p>The man was extremely old by Tarthian standards, probably three +hundred and fifty years old. He wore a snow-cape of <i>purullian</i> fur +which the wind whipped about his bony frame and up over his completely +bald head. "I'm sorry, Ylia," he said suddenly. There were tears in +his eyes which the cold and the wind did not explain.</p> + +<p>"What for? You came to the cave. You accompanied me here to Nadia."</p> + +<p>"When Retoc the Abarian almost killed the White God, I fled with the +others."</p> + +<p>"If you didn't flee you too might have been slain, Hammeth."</p> + +<p>"Yet you remained behind."</p> + +<p>"He still lived. Someone had to tend him."</p> + +<p>Hammeth's breath came in shallow gasps. He once had been a strong, big +man, but the life and the strength had fled his frame when Retoc +destroyed Ofrid, a hundred years before. As a wayfarer on the Plains +of Ofrid, he had aged in those hundred years. And he had shrunk and +shriveled with approaching senility. "Tell me, Ylia," he asked, +panting, "is this Bram Forest you speak of indeed the—the god of the +legend? The God of the Tower come to right the ancient wrongs?"</p> + +<p>A frown marred the beauty of Ylia's matchless face. "At first," she +said with a far-away look in her lovely eyes, "at first I thought he +was. Hadn't he come, suddenly, from nowhere, at the ordained moment? +But then when he did not slay Retoc, when instead he allowed Retoc the +use of his whip-sword and was almost slain by Retoc, when he bled like +any mortal, when he—" All at once Ylia was blushing.</p> + +<p>"What is it, child?" Hammeth asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing. It is nothing."</p> + +<p>"Ylia. You were the infant daughter of a lady in waiting of the royal +court of Ofrid. I was a captain of the Queen's Guards. When Retoc's +legions brought their death and destruction, I fled to the wilderness +with you. I raised you from infancy. I—" the old man's eyes clouded +over with emotion—"you have no secrets from me, child."</p> + +<p>Ylia was still blushing. But a serene smile replaced the frown on her +face. "Very well, Father Hammeth, I will tell you. There in the cave +as I nursed the stranger back to health, as he grew stronger and could +move about, as we conversed and came to know each other, I—I desired +him."</p> + +<p>Hammeth said nothing. His face was stern.</p> + +<p>"Please," said Ylia, laughing now that her secret was out. "It wasn't +the kind of desire that could make me a candidate for the Golden Ape, +but—I desired him. It was a pure, sweet emotion, such as I have never +felt before. I wanted him. I wanted to serve him. I wanted to spend my +life helping him and ... Hammeth ... Father Hammeth ... loving him. +There, I have said it."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Hammeth only muttered. They plodded on through the snow, which here +was deep and powdery so they floundered sometimes to their knees.</p> + +<p>"But a girl shouldn't feel such desire for a god, so I told myself he +was mortal." Abruptly and for no reason that Hammeth could fathom, +Ylia began to cry.</p> + +<p>"What is it, child? What is it?"</p> + +<p>"He—he fled. He had lost much blood and he was weak, yes, but he +didn't even stay to protect me. He fled from Retoc. Is that a god? Is +that even a man who can bring retribution to Retoc? Is it, Hammeth? Is +it?"</p> + +<p>"Yet you're taking the road to Nadia even as legend says the White God +will take the road to Nadia."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Ylia, wiping away her tears. "Someone has to tell the +Nadians what really happened to poor Jlomec, that's all. Retoc, Retoc +will have them eating off his hand. He'll have them believing whatever +he says. They'll never know that he killed a prince of their royal +blood."</p> + +<p>"But what can Bontarc of Nadia—or anyone—do against the power of +Retoc's Abarians?"</p> + +<p>"The White God could—"</p> + +<p>"Ah, you see? Then perhaps you do believe, after all."</p> + +<p>"The White God or whoever he was," said Ylia coldly, "fled a coward +from Retoc." She pouted. "And yet, and yet he seemed so confused."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he fled so that the Ofridians might live again in the pride +of their greatness," Hammeth declared with vehemence.</p> + +<p>"You believe, don't you, Father Hammeth?" Ylia asked simply.</p> + +<p>"I want to believe, child."</p> + +<p>"You're panting so. You're tired. We'll have to stop and rest."</p> + +<p>They were traversing the deepest part of the valley where the Nadian +wind, funneling through between the hills flanking the depression, had +piled the snow into drifts twice the height of a man. They hunkered +down in the lee of one of the snow-drifts, where the wind could not +reach them. With stiff fingers Ylia withdrew strips of jerked stadmeat +from the inside pocket of her snow cloak, sharing them with Hammeth. +They munched the tough cold meat, Ylia looking at the old man with +tenderness and affection. Her foster father, he had been the only +parent she had ever known. She closed her eyes and for a moment +thought back over the years they had spent as wayfarers on the +Ofridian Plain, the years dreaming of revenge and succor which would +never come, the years....</p> + +<p>"Ylia! Ylia!"</p> + +<p>Father Hammeth was calling her name, urgently. She shook herself from +her reverie. They were seated with their backs to one of the great +snow-drifts, where it fell off suddenly like a suspended, frozen sea +wave. With a trembling hand Hammeth was pointing before him, out +across the ice fields.</p> + +<p>There in the soft snow which mantled the ice of Nadia to a depth of +only a few inches, were footprints. They were not old prints, +deposited there when some wayfarer had passed. Incredibly, they were +being made even as Hammeth and Ylia watched, as if by some creature +with no palpable existence. The icy wind seemed intensified.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"It—it's coming toward us," Hammeth said, his voice a croaking +whisper. Ylia knew that he was afraid again. Somehow with the +advancing years, the steel and fire had gone from Hammeth's heart. Or +perhaps, she thought in sympathy, the terrible defeat and destruction +of Ofrid a hundred years ago had done this to him, had turned one of +the Queen's proven champions into an aging craven wayfarer.</p> + +<p>"We'll have to flee," Hammeth said breathlessly.</p> + +<p>Behind them was the frozen wave of snow. To the right, far away across +the snows, Abaria and the Plains of Ofrid. To the left, not half a +day's journey, Nadia City. Ahead of them, the advancing footprints.</p> + +<p>"Your whip-sword!" Ylia cried. "Quickly."</p> + +<p>"I carry it, but I can't use it now," Hammeth protested. "I'm an old +man, Ylia. An old man."</p> + +<p>"Then let me have it."</p> + +<p>"You? But you're just a girl. You couldn't—"</p> + +<p>"Don't you see, Father Hammeth? It's only a man. An Utalian. It can't +be anything else. If he comes in peace, well enough. Otherwise ... +here, give me that sword."</p> + +<p>But Hammeth shook his head with unexpected pride and pulled the weapon +from its scabbard.</p> + +<p>Just then the footprints became wider spaced and appeared more quickly +in the snow. The invisible Utalian was running toward them. Awkward, +cursing at his own impotence, Hammeth fumbled with his weapon.</p> + +<p><i>You who call yourself Bram Forest</i>, Ylia thought, <i>White God or +whatever you are—help us, help us</i>! Then she hated herself for the +unbidden thought. Bram Forest had deserted her once, hadn't he, after +she had saved his life? What help could she expect from a man like +Bram Forest? Or was Father Hammeth right? Perhaps Bram Forest had fled +so that Ofrid might one day live again to see the wrath of the gods +fall on Retoc and his Abarians.</p> + +<p>Or, Ylia thought with an abrupt flash of insight, perhaps Bram +Forest's flight had been out of his control. Perhaps he was as yet a +pawn in a game he barely understood....</p> + +<p><i>Bram Forest, we need you!</i></p> + +<p>The running footprints were almost upon them.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h2><i>Volna the Beautiful</i></h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_b.jpg" alt="B" width="34" height="40" /></div> +<p>ram Forest had been day-dreaming.</p> + +<p>Ylia? Hadn't Ylia been calling his name? But how could that be? Ylia +was almost two hundred million miles away. Clearly, as long as they +kept the magic disc away from him, he could never see Ylia again. And +besides, now that he had been vouchsafed a vision of his dead mother, +the former queen of Ofrid, and now that that vision had conjured up +the entire tragic past for him, why was it that when he shut his eyes +and allowed the bright sun to beat down on the lids through the cell +window he saw an image of the sun-browned maid, Ylia?</p> + +<p>Could it be, he asked himself, wondering if somehow he were profaning +the memory of the mother he had never known, that Ylia stood not for +the past but for the present and the future, and that it was in the +present and the unknown future that Bram Forest must live and do his +life's work and perhaps perish, although he was motivated from the +past?</p> + +<p>A guard brought food on a tray. The cell door clanged open, the tray +was delivered, the cell door clanged shut. The guard did not pay +particular attention to Bram Forest: he had been a docile enough +prisoner.</p> + +<p>Ylia, he thought.</p> + +<p>He knew he must escape next time the guard brought food.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Dr. Slonamn held up the bracelet with the metal disc on it and stared +curiously at the contraption. He was a psychologist, he could hardly +consider himself an expert on metallurgy. Still, he had never seen a +metal like that from which the disc had been fashioned. It seemed too +opaque for steel, too hard for silver. A steel and silver alloy, then? +But he had never heard of a steel and silver alloy.</p> + +<p>He held it up to the light. Like a fly's many-faceted eye it threw +back manifold images of—himself. Somehow, it made him dizzy to gaze +at the images. He drew his eyes away and had an impulse to fling the +strange disc away across the room.</p> + +<p>The sun was going down. He heard a clattering from the prison kitchen +as the evening meal was prepared. Tomorrow, he thought, should see the +completion of his work here. Another interview with the paranoid giant +who had brought the disc, perhaps. The disc fascinated him.</p> + +<p>He looked at it again. He didn't want to, and recognized the strange +compulsion within himself. Then, before he quite realized it, he was +staring at his multiple image again. His senses swam. There was a +far-away rustling sound like—the words came unbidden to his mind from +a poem by Kipling—like the wind that blows between the worlds. He +gazed again at the disc. It seemed to draw him, as a magnet draws iron +filings. Now he wanted to fight it, wanted to fight with every ounce +of his strength. A wave of giddiness swept over him, leaving nausea in +its wake. He clutched at the prison-office desk for support. The +rustling grew louder.</p> + +<p>He saw—or thought he saw—a girl, a lovely, sun-bronzed girl. There +was a look of fear on her face. She seemed to be crying out for help.</p> + +<p>An abyss yawned before his feet, before his very soul. He longed +despite himself to plunge into the abyss, whatever the fearful +consequences might be. He lurched back, fighting the longing. Yet he +knew he wouldn't win. He took a step forward....</p> + +<p>"Give it to me!"</p> + +<p>The voice, urgent, distant, beckoned him back to reality. It seemed a +great distance off, but it was something to which he could hold.</p> + +<p>"Give me that disc!"</p> + +<p>He felt himself dragged roughly back, saw the abyss retreating. The +rustling of the wind between the worlds became distant, a sound +imagined rather than heard.</p> + +<p>"Give it to me!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He blinked. The nausea had washed over him. He felt weak, drained, +exhausted. But the substantial reality of the prison office surrounded +him.</p> + +<p>The young giant stood before him, strapping the bracelet which held +the disc on his powerful arm. A look of intense concentration was on +his face. His skin was bathed with sweat although it was cool in the +room.</p> + +<p>"What did you do to the guard?" Dr. Slonamn asked, wondering if the +prisoner would slay him.</p> + +<p>"He'll be all right. I only hit him. I'm sorry. It was necessary." The +giant spoke in haste. His eyes were clouded, dreamy, as if he had +taken an overdose of barbituates.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"You saw? In the disc?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Dr. Slonamn.</p> + +<p>"I'm going. It's my home."</p> + +<p>The giant took a step forward, then began to stagger.</p> + +<p>"Your home?" Dr. Slonamn gasped. "Your <i>home</i>?"</p> + +<p>The giant, who had given his name to the prison authorities as Bram +Forest, did not answer. Dr. Slonamn reached out, as if to grab him. +Bram Forest stood there, a smile and the acceptance of pain fighting +for mastery of his face.</p> + +<p>Dr. Slonamn staggered back as if struck. <i>His hand had passed through +Bram Forest's body.</i></p> + +<p>Staggering, trembling, Dr. Slonamn leaned for support on the desk. He +could see through Bram Forest now. See through him entirely.</p> + +<p>A cold fierce wind, like no wind ever felt on Earth, touched him. He +shuddered.</p> + +<p>When he looked again, Bram Forest was gone....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Retoc the Abarian!" the seneschal's voice proclaimed.</p> + +<p>An uneasy stir passed through the crowd of mourning courtiers in the +palace chamber. Retoc, ruler of Abaria, did not often visit Nadia. A +state of armed tension existed between Abaria and Nadia of the ice +fields. Nadia alone of the many disunited nations of Tarth had +strength in some ways comparable to that of black forested Abaria, but +even then, if a war came between the two nations, the issue would +never seriously be in doubt.</p> + +<p>As a matter of diplomacy, Retoc had been invited to the funeral of +Prince Jlomec, although neither Bontarc, ruler of Nadia, nor his +sister, Volna the Beautiful, had ever dreamed he would come.</p> + +<p>While the crowd milled about in their white mourning garments, Retoc +told the seneschal: "I wish an audience with the Princess Volna."</p> + +<p>The crowd was suddenly quiet. Volna the Beautiful, haughty, imperious, +princess of the royal blood, would certainly refuse to see the Abarian +ruler. Nevertheless, the seneschal bowed low, said, "Your request will +be carried to the staff of the royal household, lord," and disappeared +behind a hanging.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Some time later, in another part of the palace, Bontarc was saying: +"Volna, Volna, listen to me. You can't see that man now."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to see him," Volna the Beautiful told her brother. "So it +may not be said that a princess of the royal blood hid in fear behind +a wall of tragedy."</p> + +<p>"But sister! With dear Prince Jlomec still not on the burning barge +which will carry him down the River of Ice on the final journey from +which—"</p> + +<p>"Please, brother," Volna said a little coldly. "I'm going to grant +Retoc his audience. Don't you understand? He thinks me weakened by +Jlomec's death. Oh, I loved the Prince, yes. He was always so—so +quiet and aloof from affairs of state. But I can be strong if strong I +have to be."</p> + +<p>"Then you won't change your mind?" Bontarc asked. He was a fighting +man by nature. The devious paths of diplomacy he set foot on only with +reluctance.</p> + +<p>For answer Volna said: "Let me prepare to greet the royal visitor." +And she watched Bontarc leave her quarters.</p> + +<p>At once she clapped her hands. Six serving maids skipped through the +hangings into her huge bower and while they clustered jabbering about +her like so many excited birds, she undid the fastening at her left +shoulder and allowed her gown of mourning white to fall in a crumpled +heap at her feet. She stood naked and perfectly still while the +serving maids administered to her, each girl a master in one of the +cosmetic arts. And Volna, she of the haughty face and glorious body, +she who already had been beautiful to look upon, was soon transformed +by the cosmetic arts into the loveliest woman the planet Tarth had +seen since the Queen Evalla.</p> + +<p>Her thoughts went to the dead queen of Ofrid as the maids dressed her +again in the mourning garment. Evalla, a woman with beauty to match +Volna's, had ruled the most powerful nation Tarth had ever known. +Then, Volna smiled, why not another such woman, with hands strong +enough, and vision clear enough, to grasp the chalice of power and +drink deeply of its heady brew?</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Retoc," she was saying a few moments later.</p> + +<p>She clapped her hands. The maids in waiting withdrew, giggling.</p> + +<p>"Volna, Volna," said the big Abarian ruler. "You are glorious. Every +jek of the journey from the Plains of Ofrid across the ice fields of +Nadia, I burned for you." He came very close to her. His face swam +before her vision, a hard, strong, handsome face with the cruel eyes +of a sadist. Fitting consort for a woman who would rule the world? His +lips parted....</p> + +<p>Volna, smiling, placed her cool hand over his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Then let me put out the fire," she said coolly, "for we have much to +discuss."</p> + +<p>"But Princess, I—"</p> + +<p>"Hush. And what, exactly, were you doing on the Plains of Ofrid?"</p> + +<p>Retoc's big face flushed red. Then, when he saw Volna was still +smiling, he said: "When we met last, you mentioned that two men stood +between you and the throne of Nadia."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said Volna, mocking him, turning swiftly with the light behind +her sending its bright beams through the white mourning garment and +outlining the seductive curves of her body.</p> + +<p>"Jlomec is dead," Retoc said simply.</p> + +<p>Still smiling, Volna slapped the big man's face ringingly. Retoc +stepped back, startled.</p> + +<p>"Fool!" Volna hissed. "I can call the guards. I can have you slain."</p> + +<p>"But I—"</p> + +<p>"I did not say I was not pleased. But don't lie to me. That isn't why +you slew my brother. Well, man, is it?"</p> + +<p>Retoc bowed his head. Only in his eyes there was fury. "We'll make a +strange pair, Volna, you and I," he said passionately.</p> + +<p>"Is it?"</p> + +<p>Retoc shook his head slowly.</p> + +<p>"You see? I knew it. I knew it was you when they told us Jlomec had +been slain, and yet because I know you and know too how you are quick +to passion, I told myself you had not done it consciously because I +had suggested it to you. Fool. Can I trust such as you?"</p> + +<p>"Only Bontarc stands between you and empire. And Bontarc is a simple +man."</p> + +<p>"As you are a passionate man."</p> + +<p>"Yet you need me, Volna. You need the strength of my arm—and my army. +What a pair we'll make!"</p> + +<p>Volna stepped into the embrace of his big arms and allowed herself to +be kissed. Retoc burned for her. He had said so. All men burned for +her, she knew that. And, before she was finished, every man of Tarth +would kneel at her feet and call her Queen.</p> + +<p>Retoc drew back finally, breathing hard. Volna had for him only a +cool, mocking smile.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>At last he said, "There are some who might say Retoc of Abaria killed +the royal prince."</p> + +<p>"Dolt! Were you seen?"</p> + +<p>Retoc shrugged as if it were not important. "A band of wayfarers on +the Ofridian Plain. They were so frightened, they fled at once. After +I had wounded the white giant."</p> + +<p>Volna's eyes flashed suddenly. "There was someone else? You did not +kill him?"</p> + +<p>"I tried to. He escaped, Princess."</p> + +<p>"Then you are more a fool than I thought."</p> + +<p>"But I—"</p> + +<p>"Begone! We can't be seen together too much. Take quarters in Nadia +City, and let me know where you are. You understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Princess."</p> + +<p>She allowed him to kiss her hand, then he withdrew. A few moments +later, at her summons, the seneschal appeared. Subtly her face had +changed. No longer was she the desiring and desirous princess. +Instead, she was a grieving sister, whose brother's body still lay in +state in the royal palace.</p> + +<p>The seneschal, whose name was Prokliam, bowed obsequiously. He knew +that by custom the body of a royal Nadian floated down the River of +Ice in the company of two living servants—one man and one woman—who +would perish with him in the Place of the Dead. He knew also that he +had been Jlomec's favorite and now lived in constant fear that the +Princess Volna would decree that he, Prokliam, must accompany his dead +master on the Journey of No Return, to serve him in death as he had +served him in life.</p> + +<p>"Yes, lady?" the frightened Prokliam asked.</p> + +<p>"Bontarc, our king, grieves mightily for the dead prince," Volna said.</p> + +<p>"All Nadia grieves for Jlomec, lady," Prokliam said, and added +hastily: "Although I must admit I do not grieve more than the next +man. No, no, it is a mistake to think I was Jlomec's favorite."</p> + +<p>"Be that as it may Bontarc grieves so that for a while at least some +of the affairs of state will be in my hands."</p> + +<p>"I hear and understand lady."</p> + +<p>"Good. If anyone comes—anyone at all, whether wayfarers from Ofrid or +others—with news of how Jlomec died, they are to be brought at once +to me. Is that understood?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my princess." Prokliam the seneschal bowed low once more.</p> + +<p>"Serve me well in this, Prokliam, and you will be rewarded in +measure."</p> + +<p>Prokliam smiled. "I will be the personification of discretion," he +said boldly, baring his toothless old gums.</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps I will still the rumors that you were the dead Jlomec's +favorite."</p> + +<p>Prokliam dropped at the royal feet and touched his lips to the royal +toes. Then he bowed out of the room.</p> + +<p>Volna stared for many moments at her beautiful face in the mirror. +Queen, she thought. She said it aloud:</p> + +<p>"Queen Volna."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h2><i>The Journey of No Return</i></h2> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_e.jpg" alt="E" width="34" height="40" /></div> + +<p>arlier that day, on the ice fields half a dozen jeks from Nadia City, +B'ronth the Utalian had sprinted boldly across the snow toward the +girl and her elderly male companion. This had taken considerable +effort, because B'ronth the Utalian had not been endowed with an +abundance of courage. But B'ronth was a poor man, as Utalia was a poor +country; a bag of gold would be a veritable fortune to him. Like most +cowards, B'ronth had one passion which could over-ride his timidity: +that passion in B'ronth's case was wealth.</p> + +<p>The old man was fumbling clumsily for his whip-sword when B'ronth +hurtled at them. The girl screamed:</p> + +<p>"Look out, Father Hammeth! Look out!"</p> + +<p>B'ronth smiled. They would not see the smile, of course. B'ronth, a +chameleon man, was invisible. They would see his footprints in the +snow, true. They would know him for a Utalian and understand his +invisibility. But still the advantage of invisibility would be his. It +had always been so when a Utalian fought. It would always be so.</p> + +<p>B'ronth leaped upon the old man even as he prepared to strike out with +the whip-sword. B'ronth was both naked and unarmed. The sword lashed +whining at air a foot from his face. B'ronth wrenched its haft from +the old man's hand. Hammeth stumbled back.</p> + +<p>B'ronth swung the whip-sword. He was no duelist. A duelist would lunge +and thrust with the whip-sword, allowing its mobile point some degree +of freedom by controlling it deftly. A non-duelist like B'ronth would +hack and slash, the deadly sword-point whipping about, curling, +slashing, striking.</p> + +<p>Hammeth held up his hands to defend himself. The whip-sword whined in +the cold air. The girl screamed. Hammeth's right hand flew from his +arm and blood jetted from the stump. Hammeth sank to the ground and +lay there in a spreading pool of crimson. His eyes remained open. He +was staring with hatred at B'ronth. In a matter of minutes, B'ronth +knew, he would bleed to death. B'ronth turned on the girl.</p> + +<p>She stood before him swaying. She had almost swooned, but as B'ronth +approached her, she flung herself at him, crying Hammeth's name, and +they both fell down in the snow. B'ronth let the whip-sword fall from +his fingers. Half a bag of gold for a dead girl, but the whole bag if +she lived. She fought like a wild cat and for a few moments B'ronth +regretted dropping the weapon and actually feared for his life. But +soon, his courage returning and his whole being contemplating the bag +of gold, he subdued the girl.</p> + +<p>She lay back exhausted in the snow. "Please," she said. "Please bind +his arm. He'll bleed to death. Please."</p> + +<p>B'ronth said nothing. Ylia staggered to her feet, then collapsed and +crawled on her knees to Hammeth. The blood jetted from the stump of +his arm. He was watching her. A little smile touched the corners of +his mouth but pain made his eyes wild.</p> + +<p>B'ronth licked his lips. He had earned his bag of gold and, earning +it, thought of more wealth. He thought: <i>why should I accept one bag +of gold from a common Abarian soldier when there are millions of bags +of gold in Nadia City</i>? He could deliver the girl, who obviously knew +something the Abarians did not wish the Nadians to know, to Nadia +City. He could sell her to the Nadians. Or, if the Abarians outbid +them, then the Abarians....</p> + +<p>Bruised, her cloak in tatters, Ylia reached Hammeth. His eyes blinked. +He smiled at her again, smiling this time with his whole face. Then he +turned his head away and his eyes remained open and staring.</p> + +<p>"You ... killed ... him," Ylia said, sobbing.</p> + +<p>B'ronth dragged her to her feet. "Lulukee!" he called. "Lulukee!" +Where was the boy?</p> + +<p>Lulukee did not answer. Cursing, B'ronth stripped the corpse and +dressed in its warm clothing. The blood on the right sleeve was +already stiff with cold. Where could Lulukee have gone off to? +wondered B'ronth. Well, no matter. They were only a few jeks from +Nadia City, where wealth awaited him....</p> + +<p>"Come," he said. He dragged the girl along. She looked back at the +dead old man until a snow drift hid him from sight.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>After the Utalian had dragged the beautiful girl beyond the ridges of +snow, Lulukee the Nadian came down into the valley. He was a small boy +of some sixty winters who, like many of the Nadians who did not come +from their country's single large city, had lived a hard life as an +ice-field nomad. He had seen an opportunity to profit in the service +of B'ronth the Utalian, but had not expected this service to include +murder. Thus when the Utalian had called him, expecting the boy to +drag his supply sled down into the snow-valley, Lulukee had remained +hidden. Now, though, he made his way to the body of the dead man and, +scavengerlike, went over it with the hope of turning a profit by +B'ronth's deed.</p> + +<p>In that he was disappointed. B'ronth had taken the dead man's snow +cloak and his whip-sword: there was nothing left for Lulukee's +gleaning. He was about to turn and trudge back the way he had come, +when he realized that if he did so, if he exposed himself on the +higher wind-ridges, B'ronth might see him. Therefore he remained a +long time with the frozen body of Father Hammeth, actually falling +into a light slumber while he waited.</p> + +<p>He awoke with a start. He blinked, then cowered away from the +apparition which confronted him. It was a man, but such a man as +Lulukee the Nadian had never seen before, a superbly muscled man a +head taller than the tall Abarians themselves.</p> + +<p>"Where's the girl?" the man demanded.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know, lord."</p> + +<p>"How did this happen?" The man looked down with compassion at Father +Hammeth's corpse.</p> + +<p>"I only just arrived, l-lord."</p> + +<p>"You lie," the big man said. "You were sleeping here. You'll tell me, +or—"</p> + +<p>Lulukee blanched. He owed no loyalty to B'ronth the Utalian. If indeed +he remained loyal he might be implicated in the murder of the old man. +He said: "It was B'ronth the Utalian."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"G-going to Nadia City, I think."</p> + +<p>"Alone?"</p> + +<p>"No, lord. With his prisoner. A—a lovely woman."</p> + +<p>"Ylia!" the giant cried. "You! How are you called?"</p> + +<p>"I am Lulukee of Nadia, lord."</p> + +<p>"Lead me to the city. Lead me after them."</p> + +<p>"But lord—"</p> + +<p>"Lead me." The giant did not shout. He did not menace of glower or +threaten. Yet there was something in his bearing which made it +impossible for the frightened Lulukee to do anything but obey. "Yes, +lord," he said.</p> + +<p>"Tell me—" as they started out, the boy's sled reluctantly left +behind—"is this B'ronth the Utalian in Retoc's pay?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think so. He works alone, lord. Reaping profit wherever +he can."</p> + +<p>"And he took the girl unwillingly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, lord."</p> + +<p>"He won't profit in this venture," Bram vowed.</p> + +<p>The wind howled behind them. Six jeks ahead of them was Nadia City.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Can't you see I'm busy? Can't you see I have no time for the likes of +you?" Prokliam the seneschal whined in self-pity.</p> + +<p>"Then make time," B'ronth said boldly, his cowardice obscured by +dreams of avarice. "What I have brought through the Ice Gates is +important to your ruler."</p> + +<p>"Bontarc of Nadia," said the seneschal haughtily, "does not waste his +time on every Utalian vagabond who reaches his court."</p> + +<p>"True. But I assume Bontarc of Nadia wishes to know exactly how his +brother, the Prince Jlomec, died?"</p> + +<p>Prokliam fought to keep his puckered old face impassive. But his mind +was racing and his heart throbbed painfully. Could the Utalian know +anything about that? If so, and if he, Prokliam, brought this B'ronth +before the Princess Volna as she had ordered....</p> + +<p>"Wait here," Prokliam snapped arrogantly. "And keep your cloak on. We +don't want invisible Utalians floating about the palace."</p> + +<p>B'ronth offered a mock bow. Prokliam turned to go, then whirled about +again. "If you're lying, wasting my time—"</p> + +<p>B'ronth smiled unctuously. "In the ante-room, being amused by your +palace guards, is one who has been on the Plains of Ofrid quite +recently."</p> + +<p>"So?"</p> + +<p>"When the Prince Jlomec was there. She saw him slain."</p> + +<p>"Wait here," said Prokliam a little breathlessly. He pushed the +hanging aside and stalked down a corridor, and around a bend, and up a +flight of stone stairs. He was busy, all right. That had been no lie. +Preparations must be made for the funeral games of the Prince Jlomec, +to which all the nobility of Tarth had been invited. But this, +obviously, was more important. On this Prokliam's life might +depend....</p> + +<p>"Are they checking way-passes, lord?" Lulukee asked the big, silent +man at his side. Ahead of them, filing slowly through the Ice Gates, +were hundreds of visitors entering Nadia City for the funeral games. A +flat-bottomed air-car hovered overhead, peltasts leaning over its +sides, ready. Guards flanked the Ice Gates with drawn whip-swords, as +if admitting the superiority of Abarian weapons of war.</p> + +<p>"We'll get through," Bram Forest vowed. "Tell me, Lulukee, if you +brought a prisoner to the city who might be worth much to the Abarians +but also to the Nadians, and if you were intent on getting the biggest +profit, where would you take her?"</p> + +<p>"If I had great courage, lord?"</p> + +<p>"If you dreamed of reward."</p> + +<p>"I would take her to the royal palace, lord, to Bontarc the King or to +his sister, Princess Volna the Beautiful, who, some say, is the real +power behind the Nadian throne although Bontarc is a great soldier."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>They had reached the gate. "Way passes," a bored guard said.</p> + +<p>Lulukee mumbled something uncertainly. His heart beat painfully +against his ribs. His brain refused to function. There was intrigue +here, he could sense that. More intrigue than he cared to have a hand +in. As a Nadian citizen, he owned a way pass, of course. But the +giant? Obviously the giant did not. Lulukee was sorry he had ever +agreed to go along with B'ronth the Utalian. Now he only wanted to get +out of the entire situation as quickly—and safely—as possible.</p> + +<p>He pointed an accusing finger at Bram Forest. "<i>He</i> has no way pass!" +Lulukee cried.</p> + +<p>The guards stiffened, their whip-swords ready. They looked at Bram +Forest. Overhead, the air-car hovered, its peltasts stationed there in +the event of trouble, their slings poised.</p> + +<p>Ylia was in there somewhere, a prisoner. Bram Forest spurned violence +for its own sake, but Ylia might need him. Ylia, who had nursed him +back to health when Retoc had left him for dead on the parched Plains +of Ofrid. Ylia, the lovely.</p> + +<p>"I'm going through," Bram Forest said softly. "Don't try to stop me."</p> + +<p>For answer, the nearest guard let his left hand drop.</p> + +<p>It had been a signal. Overhead, the peltasts drew back their slings. +"Will you go in peace?" the guard asked, his eyes narrow slits now, +his right arm tensed to bring the whip-sword around.</p> + +<p>Bram Forest waited. Every muscle in his superbly-conditioned body +cried for action, but he would not initiate it.</p> + +<p>The guard pointed back along the path across the ice fields, where +hundreds of visitors to the city were waiting impatiently. "Then go," +he said harshly, "before your flesh feeds the stilt-birds on the banks +of the River of Ice."</p> + +<p>The guard raised his sword menacingly. Standing rigidly still and +giving no warning, Bram Forest lashed out with his left fist, hitting +the guard in the mouth. Lips split, teeth flew, blood covered the +guard's face. Someone screamed. The guard fell, but his companion +lashed out with his own whip-sword. Bram Forest lunged to one side and +grabbed the sword-arm, twisting it. The guard howled, dropping his +weapon. Lulukee made a dive for it. But the guard, his legs still +free, kicked Lulukee in the face. As he fell, his senses blurring, +Lulukee wondered why he had made that desperate, foolish attempt to +help the big, silent man. He could not answer the question in mere +words. But there was something about him, something about Bram Forest, +which drew loyalty from you even as the sun drew dew from the +ground....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bram Forest lifted the second guard by sword-girdle and scruff of neck +and held him aloft. The guard's arms and legs flailed frantically. +"No!" he screamed up at the peltasts. "No...."</p> + +<p>But they had already unleashed their first volley of stones, pelting +the helpless guard until he lost consciousness. Bram Forest flung him +aside, leaped over the first fallen guard's supine body, and plunged +recklessly into the crowds milling just inside the Ice Gates.</p> + +<p>"He went that way!" a voice screamed.</p> + +<p>"That way!"</p> + +<p>"Over there!"</p> + +<p>"There he is!"</p> + +<p>It was an ancient city, with narrow, tortuous alleyways and +overhanging buildings and little-used passageways. The wide +streets—the few there were—mobbed with people.</p> + +<p>For all his size, the giant had disappeared.</p> + +<p>Lulukee picked himself up, dusted himself off, and showed his way pass +to the guard. The guard said nothing. He had lost three teeth and his +mouth was swollen, painful. Lulukee sensed that somehow the little he +had done to help Bram Forest was all he would ever do for him. Yet he +felt with a strange pride he did not fathom that although his role in +the saga of the mysterious giant had come to an end, it was the most +important event in his life and would remain so if he lived to be +six-hundred. He felt somehow—and could not explain why he felt +this—as if in his small way he had done something to make the world +Tarth a better place in which to live.</p> + +<p>Whistling, he pushed his way through the crowds and was lost to sight +just as the giant who went before him.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"B'ronth of Utalia!" Prokliam the seneschal proclaimed. Volna the +Beautiful nodded. The doddering old seneschal had already told her +about the Utalian. She was prepared to receive him now. If he knew +what he claimed to know, if he knew the true details of the death of +Prince Jlomec, then he must be silenced. Naturally, he wanted gold. +They always wanted gold. But gold was not the way to silence them. +Gold never worked. It only made them greedy for more.</p> + +<p>With Volna were, instead of her usual ladies in waiting, two discreet +palace guards. Grinning, she looked at their whip-swords. That was the +way to silence one such as B'ronth the Utalian.</p> + +<p>"He may enter," Volna told the seneschal. Prokliam bowed out, saying:</p> + +<p>"And Princess, you will not forget—"</p> + +<p>"No, Prokliam, I won't forget. You hardly knew the Prince Jlomec at +all, did you? You certainly couldn't have been his favorite."</p> + +<p>"Princess," breathed the seneschal tremulously as he withdrew.</p> + +<p>A moment later, B'ronth the Utalian entered the royal chamber. He wore +a snow-cloak. He was all but invisible except for the snow-cloak. He +was, eerily, a disembodied cloak floating through air. Although, +noticed Volna, if you looked closely you could see the faintest +suggestion of a man's head above the cloak, as if you saw the rich +wall tapestries of the room through a transparent, head-shaped glass. +Likewise, the suggestion of arms and legs....</p> + +<p>"You are B'ronth?" An unnecessary question, but Volna had not yet made +up her mind what must be done.</p> + +<p>"Yes, majesty," the cloak said in a different but somehow unctuous +voice.</p> + +<p>"You are alone?"</p> + +<p>"No, majesty," said the cloak.</p> + +<p>"Then—?"</p> + +<p>"A girl. A wayfarer of the Plains of Ofrid. I accompany her."</p> + +<p>"And the story you have to tell?"</p> + +<p>"I realize, majesty, how the royal Princess must grieve at the loss of +her royal brother, the Prince. I realize...."</p> + +<p>"To the point, man. Get to the point. Are you trying to say you know +how Prince Jlomec was slain? You know who killed him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the cloak boldly, eagerly.</p> + +<p>Princess Volna smiled. Perhaps something in that smile warned B'ronth +the Utalian. But of course, the warning came too late. In a quick +jerky motion, the cloak retreated toward the doorway. "Princess...." +B'ronth said.</p> + +<p>Princess Volna told her guards: "Kill him."</p> + +<p>B'ronth the Utalian had time for one brief scream which, if a sound +could, seemed to embody all his frustrated dreams of wealth. Then one +of the guards moved swiftly, his arm streaking out. The whip-sword in +his hand lashed, blurring, toward the cloak. Bright red blood welled, +jetted.</p> + +<p>B'ronth the Utalian's head, no longer invisible, rolled on the floor +at Volna's lovely feet. "Clean that up," she told one of the guards. +To the other she said: "Now fetch the girl."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Mind, lord, I don't question you," Hultax the Abarian said. "But it's +just—"</p> + +<p>"Did you send the message?" Retoc cut him off.</p> + +<p>"As you ordered, sire. Yes."</p> + +<p>"Good."</p> + +<p>"Sire, I hate inactivity. I loathe it. I am a soldier."</p> + +<p>"As I am," said Retoc slowly, his hard cruel eyes staring at something +Hultax could not—and would never be able to—see.</p> + +<p>"So we just sit here in this rented house in Nadia City, cooling our +heels. It doesn't make sense, sire."</p> + +<p>"Sense?" mused Retoc. "What is sense? Is it victory and power for the +strongest? Well, is it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, lord," Hultax responded. "But—"</p> + +<p>"And you sent the message? Our legions will come?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, lord. Two days hence they'll be encamped on the ice fields three +jeks march from the city gates. But I don't see—"</p> + +<p>"You obey, Hultax. I see. I do the seeing."</p> + +<p>"But I thought you ... the Princess Volna ... together...."</p> + +<p>"The Princess can serve me, now. If she can deliver Nadia without a +fight, then Tarth is mine, Hultax, don't you see? In two days all the +royal blood of all the royal families of Tarth will be assembled here +in Nadia for the funeral games. If Bontarc's army doesn't interfere, +then I will be master of Tarth."</p> + +<p>"But if Bontarc finds out—"</p> + +<p>"That, Hultax," said Retoc with a smile, "is why you sent the +message."</p> + +<p>"My sire," said the proud soldier Hultax humbly.</p> + +<p>Soon, thought Retoc, all Tarth would call him that. <i>My sire....</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Ahead of Bram Forest loomed the ramparts of the palace. He must hurry. +He knew he had to hurry. He pushed impatiently through the crowd. +Several times men looked up angrily, and would have said something. +But when they saw his face, they turned away.</p> + +<p>What they saw in Bram Forest's face made them afraid.</p> + +<p>"Majesty?" Prokliam the seneschal said.</p> + +<p>"Well?" Volna demanded. "Didn't the guards send you for the girl?"</p> + +<p>"Majesty, I was thinking...."</p> + +<p>"Well, Prokliam, what is it? Didn't you go for the girl?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet, majesty, begging your pardon...."</p> + +<p>"If you have something to say, then say it. And get the girl."</p> + +<p>"Majesty, a seneschal knows the palace. It is his job...."</p> + +<p>"I warn you, Prokliam, I have little patience today." Her anxiety was +evident.</p> + +<p>"No one wishes to be chosen," Prokliam blurted quickly, boldly, "even +as I did not wish to be chosen to accompany the body of Prince Jlomec +on the Journey of No Return. Now that you have spared me, in your +royal benevolence, I thought I might in turn advise you...."</p> + +<p>"Yes, what is it, man?"</p> + +<p>"You should not have killed the Utalian, majesty. If it is ordained +that a living man and a living woman accompany the Prince's body to +the Place of the Dead, to die there with him, their spirits serving +him in death, why choose from among the palace staff? We all have +family, we all have friends, we all stand something to lose. But +majesty, if you were to break with tradition, if you were to send +instead two strangers whose loss meant nothing to the palace, the +palace staff would love and revere you even more than they already +do."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Volna's beautiful face smiled at him. He did not know what she was +thinking. He never knew. No one did. She might reward him or have him +slain on the spot. "Why do you tell me this, Prokliam?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"For saving me when it was thought I would accompany—"</p> + +<p>"No. There must be another reason."</p> + +<p>"If you do this deed and if the palace and the people love you for it, +and if the scepter of power should slip from Bontarc's hand to yours, +and if, when it came time to select your prime minister...."</p> + +<p>"Ha! Ha! Ha! We have an ambitious palace butler."</p> + +<p>"But surely you—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Prokliam. I understand. I won't deny it. Perhaps I had the +Utalian slain impetuously. But there's still the girl."</p> + +<p>"I'll fetch her at once, majesty."</p> + +<p>"And if," mused Volna, no longer aware of the seneschal's presence, +"we could find another stranger, a man, to accompany the body of +Prince Jlomec on the Journey of No Return, not only the palace, but +the people as well would love me. A stranger...."</p> + +<p>"Take me to your King," Bram Forest told the palace guard.</p> + +<p>The guard smirked. "Do you think any stranger in the realm is granted +an audience with King Bontarc, fool?"</p> + +<p>"It is a matter of life and death."</p> + +<p>"But whose life and death?" demanded the guard, roaring with laughter. +"Yours, idiot?"</p> + +<p>"It is about Ylia the Wayfarer."</p> + +<p>"I know of no Ylia the Wayfarer. Begone, dolt!"</p> + +<p>"It is about Prince Jlomec."</p> + +<p>The guard's eyes narrowed. The word had been passed by no less a +person than Prokliam the seneschal that anyone with information +concerning the death of the royal Prince should be brought at once not +to Bontarc but to Princess Volna. Could the guard, could he, Porfis, +do less?</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said. "Come with me."</p> + +<p>Unarmed, but aware of his giant's strength and the mission which had +seen him spend the first hundred years of his life in a crypt on +Earth, Bram Forest went with the guard.</p> + +<p>The way was long, through chambers in which priceless tapestries +hung, through narrow, musty corridors into which the light of day +barely penetrated, through rooms in which ladies in waiting and +courtiers talked and joked, up bare stone stairs and through heavy +wooden doors which Porfis the guard opened with a key which hung at +his belt. The doors opened slowly.</p> + +<p>Bram Forest entered a large room. It was, he could see at a glance, a +woman's bower. Someone was standing at the far end of the room, in +shadow. He squinted. He took two slow steps into the room. He began to +run.</p> + +<p>"Ylia! Ylia!" he cried.</p> + +<p>Too late he saw the fetters binding her arms. Too late he saw her bite +savagely at something and twist her neck and spit the gag from her +mouth. Too late he heard her cry:</p> + +<p>"Bram! Bram Forest! Behind you!"</p> + +<p>He turned barely in time to see Porfis the guard, his whip-sword +raised overhead hilt-first. He lifted his arm, but it was swept aside +in the downward rush of the sword. Something exploded behind his eyes +and all eternity seemed to open beneath his feet. He plunged into +blackness with Ylia's name on his lips.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Unconscious, he was taken with Ylia through subterranean passages to +the Royal Dock on the River of Ice. The barge with Jlomec's embalmed +body waited. It was very cold on the river. The Place of the Dead +beckoned from the unseen end of the Journey of No Return.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img class="img1" src="images/cover_3.jpg" width="400" height="523" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h2><i>Land Beyond the Stars</i></h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="37" height="40" /></div> +<p>t first Retoc the Abarian was too stunned by what he witnessed to +think coherently. With the other Tarthians of royal blood he had +received an unexpected summons to appear at the Royal Dock on the +River of Ice and, before he could even try to fathom what it was +about, an escort of Nadian guards had come to fetch him.</p> + +<p>It was cold and murky on the banks of the River of Ice. The two men, +Retoc and Hultax had arrived barely in time to see them unfastening +the hawsers of the Royal Barge. Curious, he pushed closer through the +crowd of nobles. Suddenly, before the barge was quite unmoored, as it +swayed and rocked on the currents of the river, Nadian soldiers +appeared with a platform on poles slung across their shoulders, the +usual means of intra-city transportation for Nadian royalty. But this +was no royalty Retoc saw on the platform, although they were dressed +as royalty.</p> + +<p>The woman, conscious and bound hand and foot, was the Virgin of the +Wayfarers who had witnessed Prince Jlomec's death. The man, +unconscious, his head propped high on pillows, was the white giant who +once on the Plains of Ofrid had almost strangled Retoc.</p> + +<p>A hatred such as he had never known flashed through Retoc's brain. He +was so close he could see the gentle up-and-down motion of the giant's +chest as he breathed. Then, beyond the platform, he saw Volna. Volna +smiled at him. The platform bobbed by, was placed on the barge at the +foot of Jlomec's bier. The remaining hawsers were cut loose.</p> + +<p>There was, Retoc thought triumphantly, no return from the Place of the +Dead.</p> + +<p>But still, the white giant had recovered from what looked like certain +death once, had vanished abruptly and fantastically when he would have +died again. What was good enough for Volna the Beautiful was not +necessarily good enough for Retoc of Abaria. He watched only long +enough to see the royal barge pushed out into the icy currents of the +river, then he turned and made his way to the second tier of +observers, where Hultax stood among the lesser nobility and the +military officers of the planet Tarth. He found Hultax and whispered +for a time in his ear.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Hultax's face blanched. "But lord," he protested, "there is no return ... +it is obvious the man will die ... you couldn't expect me to...." Hultax, +frightened, confused, could neither think clearly nor express himself +properly. His mouth hung open.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image_004.jpg" width="600" height="567" alt="The boar charged while death and the Golden Ape stood +grinning." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The boar charged while death and the Golden Ape stood +grinning.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Earlier, Hultax," Retoc said with a hard smile, "you craved action. I +give you action. Take a boat. There are some moored down-river for the +use of Nadian priests on their religious pilgrimages to the banks +where the stilt-birds dwell. Overtake the royal barge. Board it. Slay +the man and the woman."</p> + +<p>"But I—the Place of the Dead...."</p> + +<p>"Fool!" hissed Retoc. "I didn't ask you to visit the Place of the +Dead. That's up to you. If you slay them first, on the River of Ice, +and can bring back proof ... but the longer we talk, the further they +are. You'll go?"</p> + +<p>It was phrased as a question; actually, it was a command. Grim-faced, +the whip-sword trailing at his side, Hultax left the crowd of soldiers +and made his way downstream. A few moments later he had poled a wooden +skiff out into the icy current and went down-river in pursuit of the +royal barge.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The guards had unbound Ylia's fetters on the barge, knowing she could +never swim for safety in the waters of the River of Ice. She sat now +at the foot of Jlomec's bier, with Bram Forest's handsome head +cushioned on her lap. It was very cold there on the river. Wind blew, +rustling the reeds which grew along the bank. They had long since +emerged from the river's underground cavern. The swift current carried +them now through a country of ice, a tundra. The reeds, twice as tall +as a man, seemed to thrive on the riverbanks. They swallowed +everything.</p> + +<p>Bram Forest opened his eyes, and looked at her, and smiled. He tried +to sit up, wincing as pain knifed through his head. "We seem to make a +habit of this," he said, smiling again.</p> + +<p>"Shh, you mustn't talk."</p> + +<p>She leaned close. He could smell the animal perfume of her body, like +musk and jasmine. Impulsively, she kissed him softly on the lips. His +arm went around her neck. He pulled her head down and drank deeply of +her.</p> + +<p>"Why ..." she began, all breathless.</p> + +<p>"Because I love you. I think I loved you the first moment I saw you. +But I didn't know it then." He laughed softly, gently, and she did not +know why this should be so.</p> + +<p>"Why do you laugh?"</p> + +<p>"I was an infant, the son of the Queen. Of Queen Evalla. Portox the +scientist fled with me, the last of the royal Ofridian blood, to the +other side of the solar system, to a world the twin of this, a world +we never see because the sun always stands between us, a world called +Earth. There I would wait until maturity. There I would be given the +strength and the wisdom I needed. And then I would return to Tarth and +right the ancient wrong. Well, I have returned. I love you. It is +enough, Ylia. I want to think of the future, not the past."</p> + +<p>Ylia let him kiss her again. "Isn't it the same, the future and the +past? Aren't they one? I too am of Ofridian blood, Bram Forest, of the +lesser nobility. There are hundreds of us, living nomadic lives on the +Ofridian Plains, where once our great nation stood."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know that. It wasn't in Portox's training. Now Portox is +dead. I buried him on this world called Earth. He could not even come +back to his native Tarth."</p> + +<p>"Darling, don't you see? That's exactly why the ancient wrong must be +righted, why Retoc must pay for his infamous deeds. So Portox and the +millions of other Ofridians, slain, all slain, can sleep eternally in +peace. You are their champion."</p> + +<p>"But revenge? What is revenge if—"</p> + +<p>"You are the champion of the future too! Don't you see, oh, don't you? +Of all the unborn tomorrows when the Ofridian nation may live again. +Of all the unborn tomorrows when the nations of Tarth can live +together in peace and harmony. Don't you understand that?"</p> + +<p>"It's funny. I try to see my mother's face. Queen Evalla. But all I +see is you. She's the past, Ylia. You're the future." He held her +lightly.</p> + +<p>"There is no future for anyone as long as Retoc the Abarian rules, and +dreams of Tarth, all Tarth, as his domain."</p> + +<p>Bram Forest stood up. The cold winds blew. He looked at the blue-cold +body of Jlomec, lying in state, at the ice-choked river, at the banks +of rustling reeds. He did not have to ask where they were. He knew. +"Perhaps," he said at last. "I only mean that if I do this thing it +will be more to see that future generations live in peace than to +bring vengeance on a power-mad Abarian."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Bram! That's what I wanted you to say. I wanted to hear you say +that. For tomorrow! For all our tomorrows."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bram Forest walked to the rail of the barge, and gripped it, and +looked out over the ice-flows. He recited:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"An ape, a boar, a stallion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A land beyond the stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Virgin's feast, a raging beast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A prison without bars."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Why, what an unusual poem!" Ylia cried. Then: "Hold me close, it's so +cold. And I'm afraid, Bram Forest...."</p> + +<p>"Of the Place of the Dead?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. The Place of the Dead."</p> + +<p>"It and the poem are entwined," Bram Forest said musingly. "I know +they are. Together, they're my destiny."</p> + +<p>"And the destiny of all Tarth?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. Portox liked to think so, I guess."</p> + +<p>"I like to think so, Bram Forest." She smiled up at him tremulously. +"And my destiny as well."</p> + +<p>"Ylia," he asked abruptly, "what do you know about the Golden Ape? You +mentioned it to me once, when you thought I ... well, when you thought +I endangered your virginity."</p> + +<p>"Why, nothing beyond what the legends say."</p> + +<p>"And what do the legends say?"</p> + +<p>"It is written in the most ancient of our religious beliefs that the +messenger to the Place of the Dead is a Golden Ape. Naturally, in +these same beliefs, a defiled virgin is supposed to kill herself. +Thus, in a way of speaking, she goes to the Golden Ape. You see?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bram Forest smiled down at her. "What would you think if I told you +the Golden Ape was real? If I told you that there actually was a Place +of the Dead?"</p> + +<p>"For the spirits of the departed?" Ylia asked in a very small voice.</p> + +<p>"No. Man can't presume to know about that. It's in the realm of the +gods. I mean a place which somehow borders on Tarth and yet ... yet is +beyond the stars. A place which, when wayfarers returned from it +miraculously long and long ago, gave rise to the legends."</p> + +<p>"Borders on Tarth ... yet beyond the stars? How can this be?"</p> + +<p>"Portox found it and explained it with his science," Bram Forest +insisted. "Earth and Tarth, twin worlds, yet so different, forever +unseen one by the other, on opposite sides of the sun. They're unique in +the solar system, Ylia. Portox thought—if the memory he planted in my +mind is correct—that they're unique in the entire universe. Somehow, a +million million years ago, a world split, becoming two worlds. But +ordinary space ... I don't know, the memory is confused ... could not +hold them. There is a warp of space, a place where space bends. Learn to +master the warp and you go instantly from Tarth to Earth, or back again. +That was the way Portox brought me, as an infant, to Earth." He held +aloft his arm, showing her the steel-silver disc. "With this I can +travel back and forth at will. Without it, either Earth or Tarth would +be my prison...." His voice trailed off.</p> + +<p>Then he blurted: "'A prison without bars!'"</p> + +<p>"What...."</p> + +<p>"The prophetic poem. Part of the poem. Anyway, Ylia, Earth and Tarth +exist at either end of this space warp, connected thus through normal +space where there should be no connection. And someplace along the +warp—where ordinary space-time distances don't matter...."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Bram Forest. I don't understand you."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"I'm not sure I understand myself. Tarth is a primitive world. It is +beyond our science. It is even beyond the science of Earth, I believe, +and Earth is a millennium ahead of Tarth in its development. But +Portox knew. Anyhow, someplace along the warp—in ordinary distances +along the space-time continuum perhaps a billion light years distant +from either Earth or Tarth, is a third world. On the warp it is very +close. The River of Ice leads to it. We call it the Place of the +Dead."</p> + +<p>"But the Golden Ape—?"</p> + +<p>"—inhabits the so-called Place of the Dead. Their world was dying, +but Portox saved them. I think ... the science is beyond me ... the +entropy of their galaxy was running down ... their world perishing, +freezing ... when somehow with his great science Portox claimed for +their use the unavailable energy in their ... their thermodynamic +system, and saved them."</p> + +<p>"Why do you frown so?"</p> + +<p>"Words. Words only. I don't understand. I can only act."</p> + +<p>"You can act," Ylia said, hugging herself tight against him. "For +Tarth and the future."</p> + +<p>"For Tarth and the future," Bram Forest said, but he hardly heard the +words.</p> + +<p>Ahead of them in the cold clear air a wall seemed to rise. It came up +so suddenly, and, in fact, the air had cleared so suddenly from the +accustomed murkiness, that Ylia was afraid. "It is in the legend," she +whispered. "The Black Wall, Bram Forest. And beyond it—the Place of +the Dead."</p> + +<p>"More accurately, an edge-on view of the space-warp, where it meets +the normal world." But although he spoke the words of Portox, Bram +Forest did not sound too confident.</p> + +<p>"We're coming closer to it, Bram. Hold me!"</p> + +<p>He held her. There was nothing else he could do. The current swept the +barge on inexorably. The Black Wall reared ahead of them, frowned down +at them, seemed to block off all the rest of the universe and all +reality whether of Earth or of Tarth....</p> + +<p>The barge penetrated the wall. Black and solid-seeming, solid as +stone, it yet offered no resistance. The barge disappeared within it.</p> + +<p>Behind the barge, rope-trailing so close that its prow almost scraped +the royal wood, was a skiff in which, shaking and afraid yet somehow +triumphant because he had heard Bram Forest's strange words, was +Hultax the Abarian.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h2><i>The Golden Ape</i></h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="34" height="40" /></div> +<p>ultax the Abarian shook himself. He had lost consciousness as every +nerve-ending in his body had screamed with pain. Did this have +something to do with the warp—warping?—Bram Forest had mentioned. +Hultax the Abarian did not know. But he did know that he was alive, as +alive as anyone could be or had a right to be in the Place of the +Dead. And he did know, gratefully, that the intense cold of the River +of Ice was gone.</p> + +<p>He wondered how long he had been unconscious. He blinked his eyes. A +balmy, pink-tinted sky. A pink sun, not on the horizon, when indeed +the sun might be pink, but overhead. On the horizon—Hultax blinked +again and thought he was mad—a second sun, smaller, paler, the ghost +of green in color.</p> + +<p>The royal barge was in ruins. It had piled up on some rocks. The bier +of Jlomec, Prince of Nadia, had been thrown clear. He could see it on +the bank, also in ruins. He stood up unsteadily, then waded through +the shallow water in which he'd regained consciousness, over to the +wreck of the royal barge. The fingers of his right hand were poised +inches from the hilt of his whip-sword. Slay Bram Forest and the girl +if the wreck hadn't already killed them? He shook his head. Bram +Forest knew more about this strange place, this world of the pink sun +and the green sun, than he did.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He climbed over the wreckage, and finally came upon the two bodies. He +went down on his knees beside them. They were covered with blood. They +were broken—broken being the only word that could describe them. They +had been crushed, perhaps by falling timber, perhaps by the bier of +Jlomec as it hurtled over the side. There probably was not a bone in +either of their bodies, at least a major bone, which had not been +crushed.</p> + +<p>They were dead.</p> + +<p>With a craftiness which surprised even himself, Hultax remembered the +dead Bram Forest's words. It was the bracelet with the shining disc +which gave Bram Forest the power to appear and disappear at will, as +Retoc had described. Or, as Bram Forest had put it, to journey between +the worlds. Carefully, Hultax took the bracelet—it was miraculously +intact—from the crushed, broken arm of Bram Forest's corpse. He +circled his own arm with it and felt, or imagined he felt, an +instantaneous source of power surge through his body. Without looking +back at the broken bodies of the man and woman who had found love and, +finding it, died in each other's arms, he made his way from the river +bank across a pleasant green meadow. Far in the distance he saw a dark +blur which looked like a forest. It was many miles away, almost at the +limit of vision.</p> + +<p>Yet, incredibly, it seemed to rush up at him. It was not merely that +Hultax the Abarian walked with a warrior's long stride toward the +forest. It was as if the forest rushed toward him. A different world. +He remembered Bram Forest's words vaguely. A warped world? Something +like that. Naturally, Hultax was afraid. This was the Place of the +Dead, wasn't it? But still, Bram Forest's cool if little-understood +scientific explanation quieted his fear. Besides, didn't he have the +bracelet-disc-amulet? What could happen to him now?</p> + +<p>Bylanus the Golden Ape, only two-thousand seven hundred years old, +quite young as Golden Apes went, saw the wreck of the barge from a +great distance. He extended his vision through warp-space and spotted +the tiny figure of a man trudging away from the wreckage. Bylanus +squinted, and shifted his buttocks on the saddle. Bylanus was fifteen +feet tall and weighed eight-hundred pounds. The steed he rode, about +twice the size of an Earth elephant, looked like a blown-up cross +between a Tarthian stad and an Earth horse.</p> + +<p>Bylanus stared, then sat up very straight in his stirrups. Something +gleamed on the man's arm. Bylanus gaped.</p> + +<p>It was the bracelet of Portox-saviour.</p> + +<p>Bylanus used his will to psychokinesthize the man. The man, still +apparently trudging along, sped toward him.</p> + +<p>Bylanus climbed down from his stallion and prepared to bow, all +fifteen feet and eight hundred pounds of him, before the man.</p> + +<p>At first Hultax could think only of fleeing. Abruptly before him stood +a monster-stad and a man. No, not a man. A man-like figure pelted with +soft, smooth, lusterous, golden fur. The stad—the not-quite-stad—was +five times bigger than a stad had a right to be. The man, even as he +unexpectedly bent before Hultax, was almost three times Hultax's +height. Man? No, not a man. Hultax, rooted with fear to the spot, +unable to run, opened his mouth to cry out. But his vocal chords were +paralyzed.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>This was no man. It was the Golden Ape of legend, the Golden Ape of +the Place of the Dead....</p> + +<p>"Portox-saviour," said the Golden Ape quite distinctly. Then he +pointed a forefinger almost the size of Hultax' forearm at the +bracelet Hultax wore.</p> + +<p>Hultax took a deep breath and could feel the strength returning to his +legs. Like all military officers, he was an opportunist. He had to be, +for in battle one had to seize upon opportunity as soon as it +appeared, if one were to win at all....</p> + +<p>Hultax said, his voice surprisingly steady: "You may rise."</p> + +<p>The Ape did so. The stallion pawed the ground, and great clods flew. +Hultax was trembling, but the Ape, speaking in Hultax' own language, +in the language of all Tarth, said: "Are you really from Portox? It +seems like only yesterday he was here although, of course, your people +and mine measure time differently."</p> + +<p>"I am from Portox," Hultax said. He wished he could keep his knees +from trembling.</p> + +<p>"Portox-saviour said that one day a man would come, to ask us for help +even as Portox helped us in our time of troubles," the Ape proclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Hultax muttered.</p> + +<p>"What kind of help do you wish?"</p> + +<p>Hultax stared, saying nothing. He did not know what to say. He lacked +the imagination to make something up. Somehow, he knew it was terribly +important. He knew without knowing how he knew that his life might +depend on his answer.</p> + +<p>"Well?" the Golden Ape asked gently.</p> + +<p>"I ... that is...."</p> + +<p>The Ape's eyes narrowed as he looked down at Hultax. "You <i>are</i> from +Portox?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. Of course."</p> + +<p>"I see you have the bracelet."</p> + +<p>"Yes, here is the bracelet."</p> + +<p>"And the cloak of Portox?" demanded the Ape. "The cloak Portox +foretold you would wear?"</p> + +<p>"I—I lost the cloak in my journey," lied Hultax, not knowing about +any cloak. There, he thought, that ought to satisfy him.</p> + +<p>But the Ape said: "There was no cloak."</p> + +<p>"No cloak? No cloak!"</p> + +<p>"I made that up, to test you. You're not from Portox."</p> + +<p>The stallion pawed the ground and looked up and then down at Hultax, +snorting. Hultax, trembling, wished he could melt into the ground.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Still," Hultax said, shaking, "I am from Portox. You tried to trick +me. You...."</p> + +<p>"We shall see," the Ape said, still pleasantly. "Come."</p> + +<p>The ground rolled, or so it seemed to Hultax. The forest loomed ahead +of him, then trees were all around him, then they stood on a rolling +plain again.</p> + +<p>"Where—did you take me?"</p> + +<p>The Ape smiled. He seemed quite human despite his size, despite his +fur. The stallion pawed the ground impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Behold," said the Ape.</p> + +<p>Something on the fringe of the forest screamed. It was an awful sound +and it made the hackles stand upright on Hultax's bull-neck. He drew +his whip-sword and faced the forest.</p> + +<p>"Well, man," chided the Golden Ape, "and do you need a weapon? Portox +told us we would know his man because his man, unarmed, would be able +to conquer the wild boar of the Kranuian Wood. And you?"</p> + +<p>The screaming came again. Terrified, Hultax did not fling his weapon +aside. Wild boar? What wild boar ... time enough later ... to convince +the Ape....</p> + +<p>The boar emerged. It was almost as big as a man and covered with dirty +gray hair. Its tusks were two feet long. The stallion whinnied but +remained perfectly still. The Golden Ape waited and watched. The boar +charged.</p> + +<p>Hultax's right arm blurred and the mobile blade of the whip-sword +whizzed through air and struck the boar's meaty shoulder. The boar +screamed, and came on.</p> + +<p>It was, Hultax realized in despair, only a superficial wound. The boar +came on, bleeding, furious. He tried to lunge aside. He yanked at the +whip-sword and it came loose, making him lose his balance. The boar +reached him, screaming.</p> + +<p>Never slackening its pace, the boar gored him, and wheeled about, +clods flying, to gore again. Hultax' voice bubbled in his throat. The +boar was on him again, its tusks sharp as razors....</p> + +<p>Finally it stood clear, nervously eyeing Bylanus and the stallion. +Then it turned and, slowly, with great dignity, retreated into the +Kranuian Wood, which was its home.</p> + +<p>The man, Bylanus saw at a glance, was dead. As an imposter, he had +deserved to die. Bylanus quickly dug a shallow grave with a large, +sharp-edged stone, and rolled the body in. As he did so he noticed +that the bracelet—the bracelet of Portox-saviour, or, more probably, +a copy of that bracelet intended to trick him—had been battered, +punctured, and broken by the boar. Even if it had been the real +bracelet, the amazing steel-silver disc of Portox-saviour, it would +now be useless. Sighing, Bylanus buried it with Hultax' body.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bylanus mounted his steed and galloped toward the river. He could have +psychokinesthized himself there, but the day was brilliant and clear, +and he was in no great hurry. At last he reached the wreck of the +royal barge of Nadia. He did not pause to examine Jlomec's bier, he +had seen such funerary devices before.</p> + +<p>Something in the wreck itself confused him. There was a man. There was +a woman. That fit the ritual—two servants to accompany dead royalty +on its way. This was the custom of the Nadians. But the man....</p> + +<p>On the man's crushed arm, the arm completely covered with blood, was a +mark. It was as if something—say, a band of metal—had protected the +arm at one point. For circling the upper arm was a band of skin not +bloody like the rest, wide in the shape of a disc, then narrow all +around.</p> + +<p>The bracelet of Portox-saviour! thought Bylanus. Had this dead man +worn it? Had the imposter, now slain by the wild boar, taken it from +him?</p> + +<p><i>Oh Portox-saviour, Portox-saviour, how long dead? Am I too late, is +it too late for this man, your heir...?</i></p> + +<p>As gently as he could, the huge Bylanus lifted the two bodies and put +them in his saddle-bags. He faced the Kranuian Wood astride. The +stallion held its head up, alert, ready. They psychokinesthized.</p> + +<p>And disappeared in a twinkling with Bram Forest and Ylia, both of whom +were dead.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h2><i>The Raging Beast</i></h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_a.jpg" alt="A" width="37" height="40" /></div> +<p>lthough once mighty Ofridia of Tarth and certainly the nations of +Earth had outstripped Bylanus' world in the physical science, the +planet of the pink and green suns was supreme in biology. Thus had it +needed Portox' help, a hundred Earth-Tarthian years before, when +run-down entropy threatened its very existence. On the other hand, +through biology, the science of Bylanus' world had come a long way in +the conquest of death and destroyed human tissue. So it was that with +some faint ray of confidence Bylanus brought the two broken bodies to +the single large city of his park-like planet. There, tenderly, he +left them in the care of specialists at the regeneration station, and +began his long vigil.</p> + +<p>... sensation and movement.</p> + +<p>Hardly anything at first. Bram Forest dreamed of dreaming. The motion +was gentle, warm, comfortable.</p> + +<p>The glow of life and not the cold breath of death....</p> + +<p>With it, with the first stirrings of regeneration, came the shadow of +pain. But it was far away and almost impalpable, pain understood +rather than felt. And slowly the pain departed. There came a time when +Bram Forest realized he was not breathing, was, indeed, immersed in +liquid.</p> + +<p>He floated, helpless, serene, strangely content.</p> + +<p>... Until, with the first signs of impatience, strength flooded +through his regenerated limbs.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"In every cell of a living creature's body," Orro the bio-technician +explained to Bylanus, "there is the potential for complete and perfect +regeneration. For, whereas the eye is an organ to see with, in every +one of the millions of tiny cells making up the eye is the +gene-pattern not merely for the eye but for the rest of the body. +Theoretically then, Bylanus, if we are given but a single intact cell +of a living—or once-living—organism, we ought to be able to +reproduce the organism in its entirety. This is not supernatural. It +is not creation of life: we can create nothing. The secret of creation +is not ours here at this laboratory. But we have mastered the secret +of recreation. Nurtured by the life-giving fluid, their development +controlled by their own genes, the two human beings you brought are +being made whole again."</p> + +<p>Bylanus nodded. Orro the bio-technician was loquacious and spoke +quickly, confidently, with mild pedantic enthusiasm. As for Bylanus, +he awaited the regeneration of the man who had worn Portox-saviour's +bracelet. He looked at the bodies in the vat, hanging upside-down, +floating head down, rocking gently in the warm, circulating +life-fluid. He waited....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bram Forest took his first breath. The first thing he said was: "Ylia, +Ylia...."</p> + +<p>Bylanus met them after the vat had been drained and a door had opened +for them. He told them what had happened, including the death of +Hultax. Then he added:</p> + +<p>"As far as I am concerned, there can be no doubt as to your identity. +But the bracelet is lost forever and there will be some who doubt your +identity." Abruptly, he seemed to change the subject: "How do you +feel?"</p> + +<p>"Good as new," Bram Forest said. He was naked. He was tingling with +health and well-being, as if he'd awakened from a long, health-giving +sleep. He looked at Ylia, her skin glowing, her hair gleaming, her +glorious body a shining promise. Then he frowned. Bylanus' words took +meaning. "You want me to fight the Boar of the Kranuian Wood, is that +it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Bylanus said.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bram Forest shrugged. "Coming here was not my idea, although Portox +somehow realized it would be so."</p> + +<p>"Slay the Kranuian Boar, proving your identity without question, and +all the Golden Apes will be yours to command."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but did Portox really feel I must wreak upon Abaria and the +Abarians the same destruction they brought to Ofridia? If I destroy +Retoc the Abarian responsible for what happened a hundred years ago, +wouldn't that be enough? I don't need the Golden Apes for that. I can +do it myself. I must do it myself."</p> + +<p>"Tarth," said Bylanus, "is a world of warring nations. But here on the +planet of two suns we live in peace. We are strong but know not the +meaning of war. Is that what Portox-saviour wished for your people?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," Bram Forest said.</p> + +<p>"Then," Ylia told him, speaking for the first time, "even if you slay +Retoc, his legions will not willingly give up their arms."</p> + +<p>Bram Forest nodded slowly. The idea of a Tarth-wide holocaust did not +appeal to him, but if all Tarth could be shown the folly of war when +its most powerful army went down to defeat before the Golden Apes....</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Bram Forest said humbly to the Golden Ape. He had a +vision—almost mystical—of a time in the future, perhaps the near +future, when all Tarth knew nothing but the ways of peace. "When we +return on the River of Ice we want you to accompany us. I'm ready to +meet your boar."</p> + +<p>Ylia held him. Tears glistened in her eyes. "Bram Forest," she said +tremulously. "Now that I've found you, I don't want you to be +hurt—ever again."</p> + +<p>Bram Forest responded: "Don't worry, Ylia. If Portox hadn't known I'd +be more than a match for the boar, he never would have established its +conquest as proof of my identity."</p> + +<p>"But ... but don't you see, you've been regenerated, as Bylanus said. +You may not be as strong as you were."</p> + +<p>Bram Forest looked at Bylanus, who shrugged. Bylanus lifted them when +Bram Forest nodded. The park-like terrain flashed by. A dark forest +loomed. The Kranuian Wood....</p> + +<p>Close at hand, an animal screamed.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"How do I look, Prokliam?" Volna asked her seneschal.</p> + +<p>He bowed before her. "You are lovely, O My Queen."</p> + +<p>Volna smiled. She wore the royal purple of Nadia in a gown which fell, +clinging as if sentient and voluptuous, to the wonderful curves of her +body. "I'm not your Queen yet," she said, laughing.</p> + +<p>"A mere formality, My Queen."</p> + +<p>"I am Volna, Virgin Princess of Nadia, sister to Bontarc the King."</p> + +<p>"Huh!" snorted the old man. "That is your official title. But what do +titles matter? When this day ends you will rule all Tarth side by side +with Retoc the Abarian."</p> + +<p>Yes, Volna thought. With Retoc the Abarian. But how long would <i>that</i> +alliance last? Would either of them be content to share power with the +other? Wouldn't there come a day when she would give the nod to +Prokliam and the legions would march against those of Abaria chanting, +"All power to Volna! All power to Volna the Beautiful!" The thought of +power, power over strong men, over leaders of nations, made her giddy +with desire.</p> + +<p>All the royal blood of Tarth was gathered in Nadia City now, for the +funeral games. She knew Retoc's plan: her spies had confirmed it. +Retoc's legions would slay the rulers of the multiple nations and +clans of Tarth and one by one, stunned, leaderless, the small nations +would flock to the banners of Abaria and Nadia. If, then, Retoc had in +mind to betray her and claim all power for himself, her own legions +would be rested and ready. And Bontarc? she thought. What of Bontarc, +her brother?</p> + +<p>As if he could read her thoughts, Prokliam said, "I have arranged the +lists for the dueling which will end the games, majesty. Bontarc, as +you know, expects a duel to the first blood with some competent +whip-swordsman." Prokliam licked his thin, dry lips. "He will be +confronted, instead by a duel to the death with Retoc, the best +swordsman of all Tarth. To flee would mean cowardice. The army would +then be loyal to you, majesty. To remain and fight would mean only one +thing."</p> + +<p>"Death," said Volna softly.</p> + +<p>She could hear the legions. The legions seemed to chant in her ears: +"All power to Volna the Beautiful!"</p> + +<p>She thought of the day's funeral games. Games for the memory of Jlomec +the Prince, indeed. They were games for her, for Volna. They would be +a party celebrating the rise to power of Volna, Virgin Princess of +Nadia. But of course neither Nadia nor Bontarc its rightful ruler knew +that yet. And when they did, Retoc and his legions would make sure +they could do nothing about it.</p> + +<p>The Games would be a feast. Volna's feast....</p> + +<p><i>All power to Volna.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The Kranuian Boar came screaming from the forest.</p> + +<p>Its small, close-set eyes found Bram at once. If it had seen Bylanus +and Ylia, it ignored them. Four hundred pounds of muscle and sinew, it +made, stomping and pawing, for Bram.</p> + +<p>He side-stepped nimbly, saw the massive head go down, felt one of the +wicked tusks brush his thigh with fire. He stumbled and almost fell. +If he fell, he would not rise again. The boar would finish him first.</p> + +<p>"Bram Forest!" Ylia screamed.</p> + +<p>He got up and grasped the tusks. He was dragged along, furrowing the +ground. The huge head snorted close to his own. The boar's breath +almost made him gag. Then, before the boar could smash him into a +tree-trunk, he let go and rolled over and over and quickly stood up.</p> + +<p>The boar did not wait for him to regain his breath, but came charging +at once. This time Bram Forest waited until the last possible instant +before the tusks would impale him. Then he leaped, twisting around in +air. It was a prodigious leap and brought a word of exclamation even +to Bylanus' lips. He landed on the hard-muscled back of the boar and +at once clamped his knees firmly against its sinewy flanks as if he +had been trained all his life for this job.</p> + +<p>The boar reared and bucked and swung its great body from side to side, +trying to dislodge its tormentor. But Bram Forest clung as if all +Tarth depended on the outcome of this contest—as, perhaps, it did.</p> + +<p>The boar ducked its head. Bram Forest fell forward, but his knees +locked. The boar rolled over, but moving so swiftly that the eye could +hardly follow him, Bram Forest squirmed out from under and was seated +astride again when the boar got to its feet.</p> + +<p>Then, leaning forward, Bram Forest grasped the two tusks and began to +pull the boar's head up and back toward him.</p> + +<p>The animal's screaming became squealing. Slowly the head went back, +the short, almost non-existent neck strained, the beady eyes darted.</p> + +<p>Then there was a loud snapping sound and the boar squealed once and +fell over on its side with a broken neck.</p> + +<p>Bram Forest, panting, the muscles of his legs quivering, stood clear. +Bylanus touched his great golden head to the ground. Ylia ran to Bram +Forest and flung her arms about his neck. "I was afraid," she said. "I +was so afraid you would be hurt."</p> + +<p>Bram Forest kissed her. She clung to him, sobbing his name when their +lips parted. Finally Bram Forest disengaged himself and said:</p> + +<p>"The poem, Ylia. We've seen an ape, a boar, a stallion. This world is +the 'land beyond the stars.' But was the boar also the raging beast?"</p> + +<p>Ylia shrugged. Bylanus stood up and told Bram Forest, "The Golden Apes +are ready to serve you in any way you wish."</p> + +<p>Three worlds, Bram Forest thought. One which Portox had saved from +doom, one which had been the haven in which Bram Forest had grown to +manhood, and one in which all their destinies soon would be written.</p> + +<p>"Then Tarth thanks you," Bram Forest told the Golden Ape Bylanus. +"Assemble your fighters. We're going back up the River of Ice."</p> + +<p>"To Nadia City?" Ylia asked.</p> + +<p>Bram Forest nodded grimly. "To Nadia City—and Retoc."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bontarc, King of Nadia, asked his royal guest, "You like the Games so +far?"</p> + +<p>They sat, with Princess Volna, in the box of honor at the Amphitheater +of Nadia. "Aye, I like them," Retoc said slowly. "But sire, I would +like them much better if they were not to commemorate the passing of +your noble brother, the Prince Jlomec."</p> + +<p>Bontarc nodded his head in gratitude. "That was well-spoken, Retoc," +he said.</p> + +<p>Retoc went on: "Have you any idea who killed him so treacherously? +Jlomec was not a fighting man."</p> + +<p>"None," Bontarc admitted. He missed entirely the smile which passed +between Retoc and Princess Volna.</p> + +<p>"Well," Bontarc said after a while, "if you will excuse me, I must go +down below to prepare for the dueling. Under the circumstances I'm +hardly inclined to participate in the Games, but my people expect it +of me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, brother," Volna said softly. "They do. Oh, they do."</p> + +<p>And Bontarc went. Retoc looked at Volna. "I'd best get ready myself," +he said. Volna nodded her lovely head.</p> + +<p>A blood-lusting animal cry welled up from a hundred thousand throats +as the gladiators of Nadia marched out across the sands of the +amphitheater to do battle with the fierce snow-sloths of the Plains of +Ice.</p> + +<p>While several jeks from the Gates of Ice, Retoc's legions waited....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Wait here," Bram Forest told Bylanus, who had led them safely, along +with the vanguard of the Golden Apes, back up the River of Ice.</p> + +<p>"What will you do, Bram Forest?"</p> + +<p>"According to Ylia, we can trust Bontarc of Nadia. He's a fighting +man, but he craves peace for all Tarth."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure of it," Ylia said. "Bontarc didn't send us to the Place of +the Dead. Princess Volna did. And long ago, according to the stories +the Wayfarers of Ofrid tell, Bontarc and your mother, Queen Evalla, +were allies striving to establish universal peace throughout Tarth. +Besides, despite his civility and fairness, Bontarc losses no love on +Retoc of Abaria."</p> + +<p>"And if you need us?" Bylanus asked.</p> + +<p>"We'll get a signal through to you," Bram Forest said. With Ylia he +climbed into a skiff and poled it out into the river.</p> + +<p>Now the riverbanks were deserted, except for the solitary stilt-birds, +tall as men, wading out into the frigid water, their low-pitched calls +all but swallowed by the sound the cold wind made rustling through the +river rushes.</p> + +<p>After a while the skiff came to a bend in the river. It was the last +turn before the Gates of Ice—and Nadia City. Here the wind blew more +strongly, and there was a section of rushes which had been cleared, +cut probably by an Ice Fields nomad who had used the tall rushes as +fuel.</p> + +<p>"Look!" Ylia cried suddenly, startled.</p> + +<p>Through the gap in the rushes, at a distance of two or three jeks +across the flat plain from the river, Bram Forest saw an armed +encampment. There were tents with flying standards, tethered stads, +pyramids of stacked spears like hayricks, and pacing sentries.</p> + +<p>"What can it mean?" Ylia asked. "Those standards are Abarian."</p> + +<p>"Retoc," Bram Forest said. He lifted the pole and felt the mud of the +river-bottom cling to it before it came clear. He allowed the skiff to +drift toward the bank. "Retoc's planning treachery. We'll have to go +back and alert the Golden Apes. Bylanus and his Apes can destroy +Retoc's legions before they even march on Nadia City."</p> + +<p>"But we can't go back, Bram. If Retoc's army is here, ready, then +what's happening in Nadia City? Who can say what Retoc is doing? +You'll have to go ahead and stop him—or at least delay him. I'll go +back for Bylanus."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bram Forest shook his head. "I can't let you go alone, Ylia. Not with +the Abarian legions so close."</p> + +<p>"But I must, don't you see?"</p> + +<p>Bram Forest frowned. There did not seem any other way, but he was +reluctant. "I love you, Ylia. I couldn't let—"</p> + +<p>"What happens in Nadia City today is more important than our love, +Bram Forest! What would our love mean if Retoc the Abarian ruled all +Tarth?"</p> + +<p>"Then you take the skiff," Bram Forest said finally. "I can make my +way to the city along the bank."</p> + +<p>"No. The army is still encamped. They won't do anything for some time +yet. See? All their tents are still standing."</p> + +<p>That was true enough. "Besides," Ylia went on, "we don't know what +Retoc is planning in the city. You can reach it faster by skiff. I'll +go back for Bylanus on foot."</p> + +<p>The logic of what Ylia said could not be refuted. With sinking heart +Bram Forest helped her from the skiff. He kissed her quickly. "I love +you, Ylia," he said.</p> + +<p>"And I love you, Bram Forest."</p> + +<p>"Be careful. Keep hidden in the rushes. Tell Bylanus to use his +judgment in attacking or waiting for Retoc's legions to make the first +move."</p> + +<p>Ylia's pretty head nodded. Then she ducked into the rushes and was +gone. Bram Forest looked after her until the rustling in the rushes +stopped, then he poled the skiff once more out into the center of the +river and sped swiftly toward the Gates of Ice.</p> + +<p>No one stopped him. No guards were posted. He beached the skiff and +sprinted through the gates and through the city and up its biggest +hill toward the amphitheater. Then, only a jek's distance away, he +heard the crowd at the funeral games. They roared suddenly in a frenzy +of excitement and another part of Portox's poem slipped into place. +The crowd watching the games in Nadia City was the raging beast, +blood-lusting, expectant, animal-savage, whipped into a fever of +goggle-eyed enthusiasm and ready to move, <i>en-masse</i>, in whatever +direction a strong leader might push them.</p> + +<p>A strong leader....</p> + +<p>Retoc? Or Bram Forest? Which one?</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Pirum the Abarian shifted his weight uncomfortably, leaning down on +the haft of his spear. The whole idea of posting pickets along the +bank of the river seemed unnecessary to him. They could not actually +see the river through the rushes, and they dared not go closer for +fear of being spotted by whatever traffic moved on the icy waters. +Then what was the point of them standing here, half-frozen with the +cold, waiting for an assailant who would never come?</p> + +<p>And while he was thinking thus, the girl virtually walked into Pirum's +arms. At first he heard a faint rustling in the rushes and, before he +could investigate, the tallest of the dry plants had parted and a +lovely bronze-skinned girl appeared. She turned to run, but Pirum +caught her in his muscular arms and held her despite her struggles.</p> + +<p>She bit his arm and, with an oath, he caught her hair and twisted her +head back. "Who are you?" he said. "Who are you, eh?"</p> + +<p>The girl glowered at him.</p> + +<p>Pirum dragged her along. She continued to struggle. Shaking his head, +he hit her on the jaw with his fist and caught her before she could +fall. Then, swinging her up over his broad shoulder, he stalked +through the rushes toward Nadia City.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h2><i>The Prison Without Bars</i></h2> + +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_n.jpg" alt="N" width="40" height="40" /></div> +<p>o one tried to stop Bram Forest until he reached the very gates of +the amphitheater. But there a guard with drawn whip-sword barred the +way and demanded: "You don't look Nadian to me. What delegation are +you with, man?"</p> + +<p>Bram Forest had no time to parry words with words. He tried to push +his way past the guard who, too surprised to thrust with his weapon, +used his free hand to grab Bram Forest by the shoulder and spin him +around. Bram Forest drove his left fist into the guard's belly and +heard the whoosh of air escaping from his lungs.</p> + +<p>That was the last thing he heard for some time. A second guard crept +up quietly behind him and struck expertly with the hilt of his +whip-sword just behind the left ear. Bram Forest fell as if the ground +dropped out from under him.</p> + +<p>"By all the fiery gods of Tarth, will you look at that!" the first +guard exclaimed.</p> + +<p>The second guard could only gawk, not comprehending.</p> + +<p>The unconscious man was growing tenuous.</p> + +<p>The first guard in confused alarm, lashed down with the whip-sword. +But its point passed through Bram Forest's now transparent body +without meeting any resistance.</p> + +<p>"Right through him! Right through him!" cried the guard.</p> + +<p>And, by the time he said it, and coiled his sword again, Bram Forest +had vanished.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>When an urgent message had come for Retoc, the Princess Volna, alone +in the royal box, had decided to investigate the matter herself. She +had to hurry, though. In not many minutes, Retoc and Bontarc would +find themselves face to face on the sands of the amphitheater. +Wouldn't Bontarc be surprised! Too proud to flee, not swordsman enough +to match the mighty Retoc....</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, what is it?" she snapped irritably when she entered the +dungeon-like ready-room below the amphitheater sands. She was in a +hurry to return to her box, lest she miss the duel between Bontarc and +Retoc. Alone in the ready-room was a soldier in the uniform of Abaria.</p> + +<p>"Begging your pardon, ma'am," said the soldier. "My message is for +Retoc of Abaria."</p> + +<p>"And I tell you Retoc of Abaria is not here to receive it." Volna +clapped her hands and two of her own guards appeared. "I am the +Princess Volna. Well?"</p> + +<p>Pirum looked at her, at the armed guards flanking her on either side, +at the door through which she had entered, at the ready-room's second +door. "Very well," he said at last, and opened the second door, +beckoning.</p> + +<p>Volna went to the doorway and looked. She gasped involuntarily, hardly +able to believe her eyes. There on the stone floor of a smaller +ready-room, only now regaining consciousness, was the Virgin Wayfarer +of Ofrid, she who had seen Retoc slay Jlomec, she who had been sent by +Volna herself to sure death on the Journey of No Return. Terror +gripped her.</p> + +<p>"What does this mean?" Volna cried. "Where did you find her? Where, +man? Speak!"</p> + +<p>"On the river, ladyship."</p> + +<p>"On the river? Returning from the Place of the Dead?"</p> + +<p>"No, ladyship. Heading toward the Place of the Dead."</p> + +<p>Volna went to the girl and stood over her. "You! What's your name?"</p> + +<p>"Ylia," the girl said.</p> + +<p>"What were you trying to do, Ylia?"</p> + +<p>The girl said nothing.</p> + +<p>Volna called to Pirum, who came at once. "Hit her," Volna said.</p> + +<p>Grasping Ylia by her hair, Pirum struck her face with his open hand. +Her head snapped back. The mark of his fingers was on her face. She +said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Hit her again," Volna said.</p> + +<p>Pirum struck Ylia a second time. The girl whimpered, but held her +tongue. "Where is your friend, that giant of a man?" Volna asked.</p> + +<p>Again Pirum hit Ylia when she would say nothing. Finally Volna +shrugged. "She'll talk, given enough of that. What's <i>your</i> name, +man?"</p> + +<p>"Pirum, ladyship."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Pirum. My guards and I are returning to our seats. There +is a duel I wouldn't want to miss. All Tarth will reap its +consequences. Meanwhile, stay with this girl and do what you must do +to make her talk. It might be important."</p> + +<p>Pirum bowed. "Yes, ladyship," he said, and watched the others depart. +Then, when they were alone, Ylia surprised him by flying at him, nails +bared, like a wildcat. He fought off her attack and struck her a +savage open-handed blow, and she fell back. At least this, Pirum +thought advancing on her, might be an interesting assignment.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"... hit by that cab, mac."</p> + +<p>"You all right?"</p> + +<p>"He's getting up, ain't he?"</p> + +<p>"Jeez, I swear," the sweating taxi driver said to the crowd which had +gathered about the prostrate man, "he popped up outa nowhere. One +second I'm driving along, looking for a fare, the next, he's standing +right in front of me. I almost pushed the brake through the floor, +honest, but—"</p> + +<p>"Ylia," the stricken man said.</p> + +<p>"Hey now, take it easy."</p> + +<p>"What he say, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"... be going to a costume ball or something. Lookit that outfit he's +wearing, willya? What's he supposed to be, a man from Mars or +something? I read in the papers where Mars was pretty close a while +back. My kid thinks there are...."</p> + +<p>"Aw, shudap about your kid."</p> + +<p>"Need any help, mister?"</p> + +<p>"No. No, thank you. I'm all right."</p> + +<p>"... got a nasty crack on his head, is all. See? See the blood?"</p> + +<p>"He's getting up."</p> + +<p>"... a cop. When you don't want 'em, they're around. Now you need +them, where in heck are they, that's what I wanna know."</p> + +<p>"The bracelet!" the stricken man said in sudden alarm. He stared at +his own right arm in confusion, then his left. His arms were bare.</p> + +<p>"You wasn't wearing no bracelet, mac," someone said.</p> + +<p>"No bracelet," he said. "No bracelet." His eyes looked vague, +confused.</p> + +<p>After a while a policeman came and took in the situation at a glance. +"All right, all right," he bawled. "Step back and givemair, givemair, +will you?"</p> + +<p>The crowd dispersed slowly, and the policeman talked for a while with +the taxi-driver, then with the stricken man.</p> + +<p>"My name?" the stricken man said in answer to a question. "Bram +Forest. Yes, Bram Forest. But I don't have the bracelet. The bracelet +is gone, forever. Without the bracelet I can't...." his voice trailed +off.</p> + +<p>"He drunk?" the policeman asked the cab driver.</p> + +<p>"Search me."</p> + +<p>"'A prison without bars,'" the man recited. "Earth is my prison, +forever. Ylia. Ylia!"</p> + +<p>The driver made a circular motion with his forefinger, in the general +vicinity of his temple.</p> + +<p>"You both better come down the station house with me," the policeman +said.</p> + +<p>"Aw, officer, I'll lose some fares."</p> + +<p>"Anyhow. The guy talks batty, but he don't look drunk. We got to +figure this here out."</p> + +<p>"Ylia," the man said, almost as if the sound were a name and he was +crying out to the owner of that name across an unthinkable abyss.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bontarc, King of Nadia, felt as good as could be expected under the +circumstances. Now that the first shock of bereavement had passed, he +knew no mourning would bring back his dead brother Jlomec. And the sun +of Tarth was hot on the amphitheater sands as Bontarc stood awaiting +his as yet unknown adversary. He flexed and uncoiled his whip-sword, +smiling in expectancy. He was a competent swordsman, among the dozen +or so best in Nadia. The duel-to-first-blood would be just what he +needed. Win or lose, he'd feel a lot better afterwards. And meanwhile, +he was a king, wasn't he? The adulation of the crowd swept down all +around him, lifting his spirits. The corpse of Prince Jlomec, +treacherously slain, seemed very far away—as, indeed, it was....</p> + +<p>A roar of expectancy went up from a hundred thousand throats as +Bontarc's adversary appeared at the other end of the arena. The sun +was dazzling. At first Bontarc saw the swordsman only as a dot across +the gleaming sands. But now the roar of expectancy had turned to a +groan of dismay, which was followed by a silence, as of death, then an +eager whispered buzzing. Why should this be? Why....</p> + +<p>The figure came closer on the burning sands. Bontarc squinted. Was it +possible? He felt a tremor go through his body.</p> + +<p>It was Retoc of Abaria!</p> + +<p>"To the death, Bontarc," Retoc said softly, savagely, as they +approached.</p> + +<p>Bontarc shook his head imperceptibly. He was no coward, but knew he +was no match for Retoc and didn't see why he should lay down his life +on the amphitheater sands. "I'll not fight you to the death, Retoc of +Abaria," he said.</p> + +<p>Retoc shrugged as if it weren't very important. "Well," he said +slowly, "if you don't want to kill the slayer of your brother...."</p> + +<p>Bontarc charged.</p> + +<p>Laughing, Retoc was ready for him.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"... Please ... please ... you're just wasting your time. I ... won't ... +tell you."</p> + +<p>"No?" Pirum said, panting. He saw the girl through a haze of anger, +frustration, and desire. She was naked, her lips were bloody, but her +eyes still flashed defiance. Pirum, like most Abarians, was something +of a sadist.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'll talk," he said. "You'll talk."</p> + +<p>"... never...."</p> + +<p>He dug his strong finger cruelly into her tender body.</p> + +<p>"Bram Forest...." she cried.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The policeman behind the desk was saying things. Bram Forest heard the +droning voice, but not the words. Ylia, he thought. Ylia. A moment +before, he actually believed he heard her cry out to him in pain. But +that couldn't be. Besides, what could he do about it? He was trapped +forever on Earth, without the bracelet which could send him, almost on +the wings of thought, back to Tarth, to Ylia, to his destiny.</p> + +<p><i>I love you, girl of Tarth, he thought. I love you, Ylia, more than +words and more than worlds.</i></p> + +<p>Something whisperingly cold plucked at him, and for an instant his +heart was stilled.</p> + +<p><i>Ylia!</i></p> + +<p>Could his love for the girl of Tarth draw him across the unthinkable +abyss?</p> + +<p>"... immodestly attired and ..." the desk sergeant was saying.</p> + +<p><i>Ylia, Ylia, call me! Draw me to you, girl of Tarth.</i></p> + +<p><i>... bramforesthelp....</i></p> + +<p><i>Ylia! I hear you! I hear you!</i></p> + +<p>"What the heck's he doing? Praying?" the patrolman asked.</p> + +<p>For Bram Forest was staring devoutly at nothing, staring at the air in +front of his face there in the mundane precinct room as if it held a +radiant vision.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the desk sergeant's jaw dropped open. The patrolman said: +"Hey, wait a mo...."</p> + +<p>Bram Forest was becoming tenuous, vanishing.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Insubstantial, transparent, the image of Bram Forest soared past the +encampment of the Golden Apes. "Bylanus!" he called, and his voice was +not insubstantial. Bylanus came at once.</p> + +<p>"If the Abarian legions move, attack them, Bylanus."</p> + +<p>"As you will, Bram Forest. But you...."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about me. I can control it, I can control it."</p> + +<p>Bylanus passed an enormous hand through Bram Forest's body.</p> + +<p>"I'll materialize, when I find Ylia. She draws me...." Already the +vision was fading.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, Bram Forest."</p> + +<p><i>Farewell....</i></p> + +<p>Was it merely the sound of the wind along the banks of the River of +Ice? Bylanus wondered.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Something struck Pirum's shoulder. The girl crouched, sobbing, at his +feet. Pirum whirled.</p> + +<p>His face went white when he saw the man. He swung his fist +desperately, and the man blocked it without effort. His arm was +caught, as in a vise. He screamed. Something snapped in his arm. +Something streaked at his face....</p> + +<p>He took the blow from Bram Forest's fist under the point of the jaw. +His head snapped back against the dungeon wall and memory and desire +and lust and life oozed out through his smashed skull.</p> + +<p>"Ylia!"</p> + +<p>"You came, Bram Forest."</p> + +<p>"I'll never leave you again."</p> + +<p>"Yes, now, in the amphitheater. I think...."</p> + +<p>Overhead, the crowd roared. Bram Forest listened for a fraction of a +second, and raced for the stairs.</p> + +<p>When word of the duel between Bontarc and Retoc came by courier to +Laugrim, second in command of the Abarian army under the missing +Hultax, Laugrim decided it was time to attack. He gave the signal for +his army to march on the city, and the signal was passed from +signal-fire to signal-fire in the huge encampment. In a very short +time, the army's vanguard began to march. <i>There's no force on all +Tarth strong enough to stop us now</i>, Laugrim thought exultantly. <i>This +day, Retoc would rule Tarth.</i></p> + +<p>He was right. There was no Tarthian army strong enough to stop them. +But the Army of the Golden Apes which, after Bram Forest's warning, +had deployed itself at the very gates of Nadia City so the people in +the amphitheater might witness the battle, was not of Tarth....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Well, Bontarc," cried Retoc, "can't you do better than that? Surely a +king...."</p> + +<p>For many minutes now Retoc, the finest swordsman on Tarth, had been +toying with his adversary. He could have killed Bontarc a dozen times +over, but he waited, driving the Nadian ruler back, playing with him, +making him do incredible gymnastics in order to survive, three times +returning his whip-sword to him when it had been torn from the +Nadian's hands.</p> + +<p>All Nadia—and all the rulers of Tarth—watched spellbound. It seemed +to them that the Nadian ruler had gone into the contest willingly. +They made no move, and under the ethics that governed their world, +would make no move, to stop the uneven contest.</p> + +<p>Retoc's blurring sword-point whipped and flashed, drawing blood from a +dozen superficial wounds. The smile never left Retoc's face. +Desperately, knowing his life was forfeit whenever Retoc chose, +Bontarc parried the whip-lashing blade.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bram Forest emerged into the dazzling sunlight of the arena floor. +Squinting, he saw the figures across the sand.</p> + +<p>The men before him were Bontarc of Nadia and Retoc, slayer of his +mother, destroyer of Ofridia.</p> + +<p>Retoc saw him first, and cried out exultantly. His wrist blurred, his +whip-sword flashed, the point singing, and Bontarc's sword flew from +his fingers. "You!" Retoc cried.</p> + +<p>The sword-point had slashed an artery on Bontarc's wrist. The blood +spurted out and Bontarc stood there, dazed, holding the wound shut +with his left hand.</p> + +<p>"Are you all right, sire?" Bram Forest asked.</p> + +<p>"I can manage until a doctor binds—"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bram Forest picked up the Nadian ruler's whip-sword and faced his +enemy, sword to sword, at last.</p> + +<p>Retoc looked at him, and laughed. "I almost killed you once," he said. +His hand barely seemed to move, but the point of his blade, whipping, +flashing, was everywhere. Bram Forest parried desperately. "I'll +finish the job now," Retoc vowed.</p> + +<p>Then Bram Forest did an unexpected thing. He used the whip-sword not +as a sword: he couldn't hope to match Retoc's skill as a swordsman. He +used it as a whip is used, his great arm slicing back and forth +through air, up over his head and down, the long length of the +uncoiled blading whipping and darting like something alive across the +sands.</p> + +<p>Retoc retreated two steps, and lunged with what he hoped would be a +death blow.</p> + +<p>Prokliam the seneschal was trembling so much he could hardly stand. +Just outside the amphitheater, in the very shadow of the amphitheater +wall, the great Golden Apes of legend had materialized. There were +thousands of them, and they were three times the size of men, and +methodically and with great ease, they were destroying the Abarian +army before it could enter the amphitheater.</p> + +<p>Without the Abarian army, Volna and Retoc would never subjugate Nadia, +never rule Tarth. But Prokliam the seneschal had committed himself to +their cause. Now only death awaited him.</p> + +<p>Or, had he committed himself? Couldn't he change sides before it was +too late? Couldn't he slay Volna, here in the royal box, for all to +see? Couldn't he become a hero of the people? He was confused. He +wished he could think clearly, but he was more frightened than he had +ever been in his life. There was something wrong with his logic. +Something.... Well, no matter. Slay Volna first, call her traitor, and +then worry about his logic—</p> + +<p>He turned away from the wall and marched down the flights of stairs +between the citizens of Nadia, flanked in two wildly shouting mobs on +either side of the aisle, and plunged a knife into Volna's back, +killing her instantly.</p> + +<p>The people roared, and rose up. Like a tide they swept toward +Prokliam, the seneschal who had wanted to be prime minister.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" he cried. "No, please. You don't understand. ... I see it now ... +what was wrong with my thinking ... you don't know yet ... you don't +know ... to you she was still the Princess Volna, loyal, true ... you +don't understand, please."</p> + +<p>The wave rolled over Prokliam the seneschal, leaving him battered and +bloody and dead in its wake.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The strong, whipping motion of Bram Forest's arm made a wall of steel +of his whip-sword. Try as he might, with all the skill at his command, +Retoc could not dent that wall. But, he thought, there was another +way. Slowly, desperately, he maneuvered Bram Forest back toward +Bontarc, who was sitting in the sand and using all his remaining +energy to hold the life blood in his veins, his fingers clamped, +vise-like, about his own arm.</p> + +<p>Bram Forest's arm blurred up, down, to either side. He wove a web of +death. It was brawn against skill, he knew—and the strength of his +arm might win! Retoc was sweating. Retoc was not the cool swordsman he +had been moments before. Desperately, Retoc sought an opening, and +found none. True, his superior footwork was forcing Bram Forest back +across the sand, but what did that matter? Last time they dueled he +had made the mistake of meeting Retoc on his own grounds as greatest +swordsman of Tarth. This time....</p> + +<p>His legs caught against something. He fell heavily.</p> + +<p>Retoc's sword-point flashed down.</p> + +<p>Bram Forest rolled over, stood up with sand blinding his eyes. For +precious moments he could see nothing but could only spin with the +whip-sword; slashing air in all directions, hoping Retoc couldn't +strike through the wall of steel.</p> + +<p>Then, slowly, vision returned to his stinging eyes. Bontarc lay +stretched out on the sand now, unconscious, the blood pumping from his +severed artery. If he bled like that for more than a few moments, he +would die. If he died, and if Nadia rose in its wrath against Abaria, +then all that Bram Forest had dreamed of, not revenge against Abaria +for a wrong done, but eternal peace on Tarth, would be lost....</p> + +<p>He took the offensive, weaving his wall of steel toward Retoc. The +Abarian thrust his own sword, and withdrew it, and parried, and lunged +and thrust again. The wall of steel which was Bram Forest's singing +blade advanced relentlessly.</p> + +<p>Round and round his head, Bram Forest whirled the whip-sword. Retoc +could—just—block the motion, the death-laden circle, with his own +blade. He became accustomed to it. He used all his effort, all his +skill to block it.</p> + +<p>Then, abruptly, Bram Forest raised his sword-arm and brought it down +from high over his head.</p> + +<p>Retoc screamed.</p> + +<p>And died screaming, his head and torso split from crown to navel.</p> + +<p>Bram Forest rushed to Bontarc, stretched out on the sand, and with his +own hand stemmed the bleeding.</p> + +<p>Bylanus the Golden Ape said: "All Tarth is yours to command if you +wish it, Bram Forest."</p> + +<p>"No, Bylanus. Take your people back to your world and live in peace. +We of Tarth thank you."</p> + +<p>Bylanus smiled. "I thought you would say that."</p> + +<p>"Portox was a great scientist," Bram Forest said. "But he thought too +much of revenge. The ancient wrong is righted."</p> + +<p>"Then you'll spare Abaria?" gasped the delegate of the assembled +Tarthian nobles, who had come to the meeting called by Bylanus that +night.</p> + +<p>"My fight was with Retoc and the Abarian army. Retoc is dead, the army +decimated and disbanded. My fight with Abaria is over."</p> + +<p>"Then what will you do?"</p> + +<p>Bram Forest took Ylia's hand. "I'd like to see a great nation rise +again on the Plains of Ofrid."</p> + +<p>Bontarc, his arm bandaged, said: "My people will help you build. And, +with your wayfarers as a nucleus maid Ylia...."</p> + +<p>"It will be a small nation at first," Ylia said.</p> + +<p>"It will grow, so long as Tarth knows peace," Bontarc told her.</p> + +<p>"Tarth will know nothing but peace from now on," Bram Forest promised.</p> + +<p>It was a promise which he knew all of them would keep.</p> + +<h3>THE END</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Quest of the Golden Ape, by +Ivar Jorgensen and Adam Chase + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEST OF THE GOLDEN APE *** + +***** This file should be named 32953-h.htm or 32953-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/9/5/32953/ + +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: Quest of the Golden Ape + +Author: Ivar Jorgensen + Adam Chase + +Release Date: June 23, 2010 [EBook #32953] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEST OF THE GOLDEN APE *** + + + + +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 Amazing Stories January, February, March + 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. + + The Table of Contents is not part of the original magazines + + + [Illustration: They were bent upon rapine and slaughter--and what + greater prize than the Queen herself?] + + + QUEST OF THE GOLDEN APE + + + By IVAR JORGENSEN and ADAM CHASE + + + _How could this man awaken with no past--no childhood--no + recollection except of a vague world of terror from which + his mother cried out for vengeance and the slaughter of his + own people stood as a monument of infamy?_ + + * * * * * + + + + + CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + I Mansion of Mystery + II The Great Clock of Tarth + III The Man in the Cavern + IV John Pride's Story + V Question Upon Question + VI On the Plains of Ofrid + VII The White God + VIII The Brown Virgin + IX In Custody + X The Road to Nadia + XI On the Ice Fields of Nadia + XII Volna the Beautiful + XIII The Journey of No Return + XIV Land Beyond the Stars + XV The Golden Ape + XVI The Raging Beast + XVII The Prison Without Bars + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER I + +_Mansion of Mystery_ + + +In a secluded section of a certain eastern state which must remain +nameless, one may leave the main highway and travel up a winding road +around tortuous bends and under huge scowling trees, into wooded +country. + +Upon a certain night--the date of which must remain vague--there came +a man who faced and was not turned back by a series of psychological +barriers along this road which made it more impregnable than a steel +wall. These barriers, which had kept out a hundred years of +curiosity-seekers until that certain night, were forged by the +scientific magic of a genius on a planet far beyond the sun.... + +The man who boldly followed his headlights up the road was of middle +age with calm, honest eyes and a firm mouth indicating bargains made +in his name would be kept. He pushed on, feeling the subtle force of +the psychological powers against him but resisting because he vaguely +understood them. + +He left his car presently and raised his hand to touch the hard +outline of a small book he carried in his breast pocket and with the +gesture his determination hardened. He set his jaw firmly, snapped on +the flashlight he had taken from the dash of his convertible and moved +on up the road. + +His firm, brisk steps soon brought him to its end, a great iron gate, +its lock and hinges rusted tight under the patient hand of Time. It +was high and spiked and too dangerous for climbing. But someone had +smashed the lock with a heavy instrument and had applied force until +the rusted hinges gave and the gate stood partially open. From the +look of the metal, this could have been done recently--even in the +past few minutes. + + * * * * * + +The man entered and found a flagstone pathway. He followed this for a +time with the aid of his flashlight. Then he stopped and raised the +beam. + +It revealed the outline of a great stone mansion, its myriad windows +like black, sightless eyes, its silent bulk telling of long solitude, +its tongueless voice whispering: _Go away, stranger. Only peril and +misfortune await you here._ + +But I am not exactly a stranger, the man told himself, approaching the +door and half hoping to find the scowling panel locked. + +But it was not locked. The ponderous knob turned under his hand. The +panel moved back silently. The man gripped his flashlight and stepped +inside. + +The knowledge that he was no longer alone came as a shock. It was +brought to him by the sound of labored breathing and he flashed the +light about frantically trying to locate the source of the harsh +sound. Then the bright circle picked out a huddled form on the floor +nearby. The man moved forward instantly and went to his knees. + +He was looking into an incredibly ancient face. The skin was so deeply +lined as to hang in folds around the sunken eyes. The mouth was but a +toothless maw and the body so shrunken as to seem incapable of +clinging to life. The voice was a harsh whisper. + +"Thank God you have come. I am dying. The opening of the gate took all +my remaining strength." + +"You have been waiting for me?" + +"I have been waiting out the years--striving to keep life in my body +until the moment of destiny. I wanted to see _him_. I wanted to be +there when the door to his resting place opens and he comes forth to +right the terrible wrongs that have been done our people." + +The strength of the ancient one was ebbing fast. The words he spoke +had been an effort. The kneeling man said, "I don't understand all +this." + +"That matters not. It is important only that you keep the bargain made +long ago with your sire, and that you are here. Someone must be with +_him_ at the awakening." + +The newcomer again touched the book in his pocket. "I came because our +word had been given--" + +The dying man picked feebly at his sleeve. "Please! You must go below! +The great clock has measured the years. Soon it tolls the moment. Soon +a thundering on the Plains of Ofrid will herald the new age--the +Fighting Age--and a new day will dawn." + +While the visitor held his frail shoulders, the dying man gasped and +said, "Hasten! Hurry to the vault below! Would that I could go with +you, but that is not to be." + +And then the visitor realized he was holding a corpse in his arms. He +laid it gently down and did as he had been directed to do. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +_The Great Clock of Tarth_ + + +The Plains of Ofrid on the planet Tarth stretched flat and monotonous +as far as the eye could reach, a gently waving ocean of soft, +knee-high grass where herds of wild stads grazed and bright-hued birds +vied in brilliance with the flaming sun. + +From the dark Abarian Forests to the Ice Fields of Nadia, the plain +stretched unbroken except for the tall, gray tower in its exact center +and it was toward this tower that various groups of Tarthans were now +moving. + +Every nation on the planet was represented in greater or lesser +number. The slim, erect Nadians in their flat-bottomed air cars that +could hang motionless in space or skim the surface of the planet at a +thousand jeks an hour. The grim-faced Abarians, tall and finely +muscled on their powerful stads, their jeweled uniforms flashing back +the glory of the heavens. The Utalians, those chameleon men of Tarth, +their skins now the exact color of the grasses across which they rode, +thus causing their stads to appear unmounted and unguided. + +All the nations of Tarth were represented, drawn toward the tower by a +century-old legend, a legend which Retoc the Abarian clarified as he +rode at the head of his own proud group. + +He waved a hand, indicating the vast plain and spoke to Hultax, his +second in command, saying, "Little would one think that this flat, +empty land was once the site of a vast and powerful nation. One of the +greatest upon all Tarth!" A smile of cruelty and satisfaction played +upon his handsome features as he surveyed the plain. + +"Aye," Hultax replied. "The realm of the Ofridians. Truly they were a +great nation." + +"But we Abarians were greater," Retoc snapped. "We not only defeated +them but we leveled their land until not one stone stood upon +another." + +"All save the tower," Hultax said. "No weapon known could so much as +scratch its surface." + + * * * * * + +A new voice cut in. "Quite true. Portox's scientific skill was too +great for you." Both Abarians turned quickly to scowl at the newcomer, +Bontarc of Nadia, who had swung close in his one-man car and was +hovering by their side. + +Retoc's hand moved toward the hilt of his long whip-like sword, driven +there by the look of contempt in Bontarc's eyes. But Retoc hesitated. +A formidable squadron of Bontarc's Nadian fighting men hovered nearby +and the Abarian had no taste for a battle in which the odds were close +to even. + +"We defeated the Ofridians fairly," he said. + +"And slaughtered them fairly? Cut down the men and women and children +alike until the entire nation was obliterated?" + +The systematic annihilation had taken place a century before when +Bontarc had been but a child and Retoc a young man. Karnod, Retoc's +father, now dead, had planned the war that defeated the Ofridians, his +winning card having been spies in the court of Evalla, Queen of Ofrid. +Karnod had been fatally wounded during the last battle and had +delegated to his son the task of annihilating the Ofridians and +levelling their nation. This task, Retoc accepted with relish, +reserving for himself the pleasure of slaying Queen Evalla. Details of +the torture to which Retoc subjected the beautiful Evalla were +whispered over the planet and it was said the sadistic Retoc had taken +photographs of the Queen in her agony to enjoy in later years. + +It had been the scientific ability of Portox of Ofrid that had +engendered the Abarian hatred and jealousy in the first place. Portox +used his science for the good of all on the planet Tarth, but when +Karnod, Lord of Abaria, struck, no other nation came to Ofrid's aid. +Then it was too late, because Abaria's military might greatened as a +result of the Ofridian defeat and only an alliance of all other +nations could have conquered them. + +Ironically, Portox had never been captured. + +Now as the tall gray tower came into view, Bontarc's mind was filled +with thoughts of Portox, the Ofridian wizard. It was said that Portox +had been able to travel through space to other planets that were known +to exist, that he had left Tarth and found safety somewhere across +space, first building his tower which would never be destroyed; that a +great clock within it was measuring off one hundred years--the time on +the planet Tarth of an infant's development into manhood--and that at +the end of that span the clock would toll and there would come forth a +man to avenge the slaughter of the Ofridians. + +Bontarc turned suddenly upon the dour Retoc. "Tell me," he said, "is +there any truth to the legend that the clock in the tower will toll +the end of one hundred years?" + +"None whatever," the sadistic Abarian snapped. "A rumor passed from +the lips of one old woman to another." + +Bontarc smiled. "Then why are you here? The hundred years are up +today." + +Retoc's hand moved toward his whip-sword. "Are you calling me a liar?" + + * * * * * + +Bontarc watched alertly as the blade came partly from its scabbard. +"If we fight we may miss the tolling of the clock," he said evenly. + +With an oath, Retoc pushed the sword back into its scabbard and put +sharp heels to his stad's flanks. The animal screamed indignantly and +rocketed ahead. Bontarc smiled and turned his car back toward his own +group. + +And now they were assembled and waiting, the curious of the planet +Tarth. Would the clock toll as it was rumored Portox had said? Would +an avenger come forth to challenge Retoc and his Abarian hordes? + +There was not much time left. Swiftly the clock ticked off the +remaining moments and the end of one hundred years was at hand. +Silence settled over the assembled Tarthans. + +Then a great sound boomed over the plains; a single ringing peal that +rose majestically into the air, reverberated across the empty land +that once had been the site of a thriving, prosperous nation. The +first part of the legend had been fulfilled. + +Then, suddenly, chaos reigned. With a great thundering that shook the +ground upon which they stood, the gray tower exploded in crimson +glory; a great mushrooming blossom of red fire erupted skyward hurling +the assembled Tarthans to the ground where they lay in numbed stupor. + +The thunderous report echoed across the plain ten thousand times +louder than the tolling of the clock. But aside from the initial +dulling shock, no Tarthan was injured because the crushing power rose +upward. + +There was an expression of mute wonder on Bontarc's face. And he +thought: We have not seen the end of this. It is only the beginning. +But the beginning of what? Only Portox could have known. And Portox +was--where? + +Bontarc started his car and moved across the plain sensing cosmic +events but not knowing.... + +Not knowing that the sound of the tolling clock had gone with more +than the speed of light across the void, had been flung arrow-straight +to a brooding mansion in the heart of a thick forest upon another +planet; to the door of a cavern deep in the rock beneath the mansion. + +That even now the lock of this door had responded to the electronic +impulse and the huge panel was swinging slowly open. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +_The Man in the Cavern_ + + +As the sound of the tolling clock died out across the Plains of Ofrid, +a man opened his eyes on the planet far away and saw for the first +time the place in which he had spent one hundred years. + +He awoke with neither fright nor surprise but rather with a sense of +wonder. He arose slowly from the great bed upon which he had lain and +allowed his attention to roam about the strange place in which he +found himself. + +In the wall opposite the bed there was set a full length mirror and as +the man turned he saw himself for the first time; a tall, +broadly-muscled figure of heroic proportions. Completely naked, his +body was reflected as masculine perfection in every detail. + +For a few moments, the man stared at the body as though it belonged to +someone else. Then he spoke musingly. "You did your work well, Portox, +my friend." + +The sound of his own voice startled him but not so much so as the +content of the words. A baffled expression touched his handsome face. +Who was Portox? And what work had he done? What place was this--and +for that matter, who was he himself, this naked figure which looked +back at him from the glittering mirror? + +The questions were annoying because he felt that he knew the answers. +Yet they would not come within reach of his conscious mind. + +He had little time to ponder this enigma however because at that +moment he became aware of a second presence in the room. He turned. A +man stood just inside the open door. + +The naked one stared at the other with an interest that left no room +for self-consciousness nor shame. "Who are you?" he asked. + +"My name is John Pride," the man answered. He was a man of erect +bearing and though there was wonder and surprise in his voice he bore +himself with a quiet dignity. "And now," he added, "may I ask you the +same question?" + + * * * * * + +The naked man looked down at his own body and for the first time +seemed conscious of its nudity. He glanced around the room and saw a +robe of royal purple lying across a chair by the bed. He stepped over +and lifted the robe and put it on. As he was tying the rich purple +cord around his waist he looked frankly back at John Pride and said, +"I do not know. I honestly do not know." + +John Pride said, "I have wondered what I would find in this +cavern--wondered through the years. Only in my wildest fancies did I +tell myself that a fellow human--or even a living creature--awaited me +here. But now I find this is true." + +The younger man regarded his visitor with a calmness that belied any +wariness between them. John Pride noted this with admiration and +respect. The young man said, "Won't you be seated?" and when his guest +was comfortable, regarded him with a smile. "Perhaps there are some +things we should talk over." + +"Perhaps there are. You say you do not know your own name?" + +"That only begins to sum up my ignorance. I am not only unaware of my +identity but I haven't the faintest notion of what this place +is--where it is--or how I came here." + +It was John Pride's turn to stare. While doing so, he analyzed the +younger man keenly. He saw honesty and an inner warmth that attracted +him. There was something almost godlike in the clean lines of the body +he had seen and in the face. These things coupled with what he already +knew, intrigued him mightily and he resolved to approach this strange +affair with an open mind and not play the role of the unbelieving +cynic. It was time to go ahead. + + * * * * * + +John Pride said, "First, are you aware that there is another in this +mansion--or was?" + +"I did not even know this was a mansion. It seems only one room." + +"It is an enormous structure set deep in the forest." + +"This other one--?" + +"A very old man. He died as I arrived here tonight." + +"You do not know his name or how came he here?" + +"I have a vague idea." + +The young man's dazzling blue eyes narrowed in thought. "A while ago +you said you have wondered through the years as to what you would find +in this room. That indicates you were aware of its existence." + +"True. Perhaps at this point I had better tell you the complete +story--as much of it as I know." + +"I would be in your debt." + +"No, I will merely be discharging the last of a very old obligation." + +With that, John Pride took from his pocket a small leather covered +book. He handled it gently, almost with affection, and said, "This was +my father's notebook. In it, is an account of this remarkable affair, +put down by my great grandfather and handed down through the line. +When my father died he placed it in my hand saying it entailed an +obligation both business and personal and it was my obligation as well +as his. + +"I have read the account of what transpired many times and with your +permission I will put it into my own words. Then, when I am done, I +will give you the book and the affair will be over so far as I and my +family are concerned." + +John Pride had settled back in his chair and was just ready to begin +when the young man held up a sudden hand. "Just one moment--please," +he said, and a look of concentration came upon his face. Then he went +on and his words took the form of a rhyme: + + "An ape, a boar, a stallion, + A land beyond the stars. + A virgin's feast, a raging beast, + A prison without bars." + +He flushed and added: "I don't know why I was possessed to recite that +doggerel at just this moment but there is something strange about it. +Strange in that I have a feeling it was taught to me at some long +distant time in the past. I sense that it is very important to +whatever destiny awaits me. Yet I know not who taught me the verse nor +what it means." + +"That verse is inscribed in this book and I believe I know how it +entered your mind and memory. I believe too, that I understand how you +are able to converse with me though you know nothing of this land or +even this room," John Pride said quietly. + +"Then please tell me!" + +"I think it better that I start at the beginning rather than give you +the story piece-meal. That way, your mind will be better able to +assimilate and to judge." + +"I await your pleasure," the young man said with impatience he strove +to conceal. + +"Very well," John Pride said, his eyes growing vague with a far-away +look. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +_John Pride's Story_ + + +"I am a member," John Pride began, "of a firm called Pride, Conroy, +and Wilson. We are a very old firm of private bankers with offices in +Wall Street. Both Conroy and Wilson died before I was born, leaving no +issue, so the company has been controlled by a Pride for many years. + +"This affair in which we are interested had its inception one hundred +years ago. At that time, a man came to see my great grandfather in his +office. He was a most remarkable man and gained my grandfather's +respect and confidence from the very first. He never stated from +whence he came, being more interested in the future than in the past. +He put up at a New York City hotel and my great grandfather knew there +were three in his party; the man himself, another man and a woman both +somewhat older than he. + +"At one time when my great grandfather visited them in their hotel +suite, he saw the woman fleetingly as she was leaving the room. She +was carrying something that he thought could have been an infant +snuggled in a blanket. He could not be sure however and he did not ask +questions. + +"The man was interested in obtaining a place of abode, a place that +had to possess certain definite qualifications. First, it had to be +built upon solid rock and set in the most secluded location possible. + +"Second, it had to be so completely free of legal involvements that +when he secured title, no possible claim of another could ever be +taken seriously enough to even cause the property to be visited. In +short, the strange man said, details relevant to the property must +integrate to a point where no one would visit it for one hundred +years." + +At this place in his narrative, John Pride stopped a moment to rest +his voice. After a pause, the young man in the purple robe inquired, +"Why do you smile?" + +"At the recollection. My great grandfather had just a white +elephant--" + +"A white elephant?" + +"Merely a descriptive term. A place that had been built before the +Revolution but which even at that early time had been bypassed by the +trend of progress until it was completely isolated. No one wanted it. +No one would ever want it so far as my great grandfather could judge." + +"Except this strange man you speak of." + +"Precisely. He was delighted with the place and when my great +grandfather pointed out that even with the location and the high +surrounding wall there was no guarantee that wandering adventurers +might not move in and take possession at some distant date, the man +smiled cryptically and said he would see to it that that did not +occur." + + * * * * * + +The young man was scowling. "I know that man. He is somewhere back in +my mind, but he will not come forward." + +John Pride regarded his listener for a moment and then went on. "The +man seemed in ample funds and paid for the property with a giant ruby +the like of which my great grandfather had never before set eyes on. + +"But the affair was far from ended. The man moved his _menage_ into +the mansion saying he would call upon my great grandfather later. + + * * * * * + +"All the legal formalities had been of course taken care of--an +indisputable deed, guaranteed by the strongest trust company in the +land. But that was not enough. + +"After a few weeks, during which time the man had inquired of my great +grandfather where certain materials could be obtained, he returned to +the old gentleman's office with the most startling request of all. + +"He said that he had set in motion a procedure that would terminate in +exactly one hundred years from a given moment and that he wished to +retain grandfather's firm as trust agents in relation to that +procedure. The duties of the firm would be negligible during the +hundred-year period. My great grandfather and his issue were merely to +remain completely away from the property which was certainly a simple +thing to do. + +"But knowledge of what had taken place must be passed down to his son +and in case the latter did not survive the one hundred years, to his +son's son. + +"At this point my great grandfather interposed reality in the form of +a question: 'I have a son but suppose he is so inconsiderate as to not +duplicate with a male heir?' + +"The man smiled and said he was sure that would not be the case. He +was right, but whether it was a gamble on his part or whether he spoke +from a knowledge beyond us, we never knew. + +"But regardless--at the end of one hundred years the surviving issue +was, by sacred trust, to be present in this mansion. The door of a +vault beneath it would open and the trustee was to enter and deliver +therein a written account of the series of events leading up to that +moment. + +"In payment for this service, the man insisted upon presenting my +great grandfather with jewels the value of which on a yearly basis +transcended all our other income combined. My great grandfather +demurred but the man said nothing brightens memory so much as +material gain and he did not want the agreement to be forgotten." + +"What happened to the man?" the young listener asked. + +John Pride shook his head sadly. "We never knew. When all the +arrangements were made, he came again to the office, thanked my great +sire for his services, and was never seen again." + +"He must have given you his name." + +John Pride frowned. "He used a name of course but there was the +impression of its not being his true one. The book mentions this. The +name he used was C. D. Bram." + +"Portox!" the young man cried suddenly. + +"What did you say?" + +"Portox. The name is back in my mind. I used it as I awoke." + +"A strange name." + +"And stranger still is the fact that I know nothing of it--wait!" The +young man's handsome features strained as he concentrated with all his +power. Sweat stood out on his forehead. But then a look of +disappointment came into his face and his broad shoulders sagged. "No. +The knowledge is somewhere back in my mind but I cannot capture it." + +John Pride was about to speak but the young man stayed him with a +sudden intense look. "One thing however is very clear to me." + +"And that is--?" + +"The face of my mother." + +"The woman who held you in her arms in the hotel suite?" + +"No, I do not think so. But I see a face clearly in my mind. A sad and +beautiful face. There is a marked resemblance between it and what I +see in that mirror. She is the most beautiful woman who ever lived and +I yearn to find her and take her in my arms." + +"I hope you succeed." + + * * * * * + +A tragic light appeared in the young man's eyes. "But where is she? +How can I find her? Why did she leave me in this place?" + +"I do not have the answers to those questions. But I have a theory +concerning you and the elapsed years." + +"Tell me!" + +John Pride spoke firmly but with obvious awe. "I think you were +brought here as an infant for some reason known only to the one who +called himself C. D. Bram." + +"Or Portox." + +"Perhaps. I think you were placed in that bed and left there for one +hundred years." + +"But--" + +"Consider. That door has never been opened. There is certainly no +other exit to this cavern." + +"And I have no recollection of ever having lived before," the young +man said slowly. + +"Yet you can converse with me. You obviously have been given an +education." + +"But how?" + +"It is known that knowledge can be injected into the subconscious +while the receiver sleeps. I'm sure the man you insist upon calling +Portox was aware of this--this and perhaps other scientific miracles. +Who are we to say that you were not nourished by some means beyond our +knowledge?" + +But that investigation was never to be made because as John Pride +extended his hand to touch the box it suddenly burst into a glow and +he withdrew his fingers quickly. + +Before the younger man could answer a glowing point of light sprang +into being and brightened and a wave of searing heat erupted from the +walls of the room, searing the eyes of John Pride and leaving him to +grope helplessly as in the heart of a furnace. The younger man was +beyond his reach. Blinding pain caused him to reel. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +_Question Upon Question_ + + +John Pride opened his eyes as a moan escaped his lips. The haze +cleared and he found himself lying upon a cool stone floor looking up +into the concerned face of the younger man. "What happened?" John +Pride asked feebly. He tried to refocus. + +"I don't know except that the heat of that fire was upon us with such +swiftness that we were almost incapacitated. I picked you up and +started walking. Fortunately I moved in the direction of the door. +Otherwise we would have been doomed." + +"I am in your debt." + +"No more so than I in yours." + +"Did you extinguish the fire?" + +"It burned out of its own accord. But only after the cave was +completely gutted. There is nothing left in there but the bare rock +walls." + +John Pride sat up with quick concern. "The book!" + +"It is gone." The young man looked ruefully down at his own naked +body. "Gone--together with my precious robe." + +"That can easily be replaced along with other raiment but the book--I +was supposed to deliver it--" + +"--to the cavern. You did that, my friend. It was not through you that +the fire consumed it. You have dispatched your obligation. Let your +mind be at ease." + +John Pride got to his feet. He shook his head in the negative. "No. A +portion of my obligation still exists. Fortunately I did not bring +forth the second and last item I was to place in the cavern." + +"The second item?" + +"Yes, and I believe the most important." + + * * * * * + +With that, Pride took from his pocket a small box wrapped in heavy +material and sealed and resealed with a sort of rubberized wax. + +"This," he said. "I know not what is in the box nor I think, did my +father, my grandfather, nor my great grandfather before me. We have +been given to understand that its delivery to the cavern was the most +important single duty of the trust. So I now place it in your hands, +praying that this act fulfills the long-standing obligation of my +family." + +The younger man had salvaged a portion of his robe, a length of +material that went over his shoulders and draped skimpily down the +sides of his body. This did nothing whatever in the way of covering +his nudity but rather accentuated and added to it. + +He took the box and was scanning it with great interest when the +excitement and strenuous action of the preceding few minutes again +took grip upon John Pride's comparatively less rugged physique. + +His eyes closed and he began sinking again to the floor whereupon the +younger man slipped the box hastily in the pocket that had not burned +away from his robe and caught John Pride in his arms. + +He lifted the elder man and carried him up from the mansion caverns +and into the great hall that swept forward to the main entrance. As he +walked, bearing the heavy burden as though it were but a mere feather, +he was of two minds. + +One mind entertained concern for his new-found friend and the other +was occupied with interest in these new and strange surroundings. + +Dawn had broken over the forest and in a brooding light within the +great hall, he saw the withered body of the dead man on the floor. He +paused for a moment and then went out across the flagstone porch and +into the open air. + +He marveled at the green expanse of forest that reared in majesty +about him. He drew in deep gusts of the cool air and found it good. He +smiled. + +Then John Pride stirred in his arms and showed signs of returning +consciousness. The young man laid the financier on the soft grass and +watched until his eyes opened. + +"Are you feeling better? Is there anything I can do?" + +John Pride smiled feebly as he raised himself with the younger man's +aid. "I'm afraid this has been more strenuous than I bargained for. If +I'd known what would transpire I would have kept myself in better +condition." + +"But you feel better now?" + +"Yes. If you will be so good as to help me to my car, I'll be all +right." + +"Certainly. Your car--?" + +"A means of conveyance that will take me back to the city. It stands +but a few yards down the road beyond the gate." + +A short time later, the two men stood at the place that was to be the +parting of their ways. Both sensed this and Pride held out his hand. +The younger man grasped it firmly. + +"Godspeed to you, my friend," John Pride said. "I fear I can help you +no further but if there is ever a time when my services are needed, I +will be waiting for your command." + +"Thank you. Whatever befalls me I will always remember you as the +first friend I ever set eyes upon in this world." + +With that, John Pride turned his car and drove off down the winding +road. As he left, the younger man realized the older man had said +nothing of the dead ancient in the great hall but realized it was +because of the strain Pride had suffered. The man was still somewhat +dazed from the shock of the fire. + + * * * * * + +He turned and walked slowly back toward the mansion until he stood +again in the great front yard. There he stopped and stood looking up +at the sun as it topped the hill east of the mansion. + +"Who am I?" he asked himself. "Why was I given knowledge but not all +the knowledge necessary to intelligently pursue my destiny? In my +heart there is a certainty that I am an educated man. I am aware of +the fact that there are different groups of people who speak different +languages and I know I will be able to converse with any I meet. + +"I know that there are planets and stars and moons and I know what is +to be known of the universe. But where is the exact personal knowledge +that would help me in my dealings with the future? Why was I left here +carefully tended and provided for these hundred years only to be +hurled suddenly upon my own?" + +He walked slowly into the great hall and knelt beside the still figure +on the floor. A feeling of compassion stirred him but there was no +warmth of recognition, no personal sorrow as a result of the ancient's +death. + +"Have I ever seen you before?" he asked softly. "Were you--Portox?" + +The dead one did not answer and the young man lifted him and took him +from the hall and buried him. He could find no tools to dig the soil +but located a hole that had once been a shallow well. He dropped the +body therein and followed it with stones until the hole was filled. He +did this with no sense of callousness but rather with an impersonal +reverence he instinctively felt but could not analyze. + +[Illustration: The cryptic verse had become a visual symbol in Bram's +mind.] + +Returning slowly to the front yard, he pondered the dimension of +time. How, he wondered, could John Pride's line have gone through +three sires to John Pride, the last of the males, while he himself lay +for one hundred years to emerge in his obvious prime? Or perhaps even +on the near side of his prime. + + * * * * * + +He pondered this and other points until his mind grew weary from +unanswered questions and turned to things of the moment. + +"I know not what my destiny is but at least I am able to have a name. +What shall it be?" + +He remembered the one Portox had used--C. D. Bram. "Bram," he said. +"That I like." But the C. D. meant nothing to him and Bram seemed +somehow incomplete. + +"John Price had a name of two parts," he said, "so why should I not +have the same?" + +He looked about him and a breeze in the green branches above seemed to +whisper the answer. He heard and considered, then smiled to himself, +raised his voice. + +"I christen myself Bram Forest, to be known from this moment on by +that name." + +Suddenly his smile deepened, then laughter welled from his great +chest; a laughter arising from the sheer joy of this new thing called +living into which he had stepped. + +Now he stretched his arms over his head, palms upward as though +supplicating to some far-off deity. He leaped high in the air testing +his muscles and finding them good. + +Then he was running, naked and golden off across the open hill. He ran +until his huge chest pounded with delicious pain as his lungs labored +for air. Finally he dropped to the ground and lay spread-eagled +looking up at the sky. + +He laughed long and joyously. + +He lay for a long time thus, then suddenly remembered the box John +Pride had given him. But the scanty garment had dropped from his +shoulders so he sprang to his feet and ran back until he discovered +it. + +The box was still there. He examined it curiously turning it over and +over in his hands. The seal was stubborn but it finally gave and he +peeled off the heavy wrapping. A small white box came to light. + +This he opened to stand frowning at what it contained. An odd +instrument of some sort--a flat disc about two inches in diameter and +possibly a quarter of an inch thick. Both faces were of shining, +crystalline metal reflecting back anything that was imaged upon them. + +Two short metal straps appended from opposite sides of the queer +instrument, one of which held a buckle at its end. He held the shining +disc to his ear but there was no sound that he could detect. + +Frustrated he looked again into the box. It appeared to be empty. But +no. As he was about to fling it away, he noted that what appeared to +be its inner bottom was in reality a second flat package that fitted +perfectly into the receptacle. He shook it free and found it to be +merely a flat rectangle wrapped tightly in white paper. + + * * * * * + +He was about to rip the paper with his thumbnail when his attention +switched suddenly to the shining disc. He had envisioned a use for it; +or at least a place for which it seemed constructed. + +He tested his theory and found the straps fit snugly and perfectly +around his wrist. He pondered which wrist to place it on and decided +the right one would be appropriate. Quickly, he snapped the buckle +into its hasp and then held forth his arm to admire the brightness of +the queer device. + +If he had expected anything to happen, he was disappointed and he +stood there wondering what use was to be found from such a seemingly +useless device. + +After a while he unbuckled the disc and moved it to his left wrist. +Perhaps it would look better there. Again he raised his arm to admire +it and had stood thus for some moments when he became conscious of an +odd sickness in the pit of his stomach. + +He did not associate this with the disc at all and immediately forgot +the thing, giving his whole attention to the uncomfortable feeling +that had come upon him. + +The sickness increased in intensity and he bent down, doubling over +his abdomen as the nausea became a pain. As he sank to his knees, he +noted the disc had changed, had taken on an odd, transparent glow. + +There had to be a connection between his illness and the abominable +device and he clawed at the buckle, seeking to loosen it and hurl the +thing away. + +But there was no time. The pain sharpened and a black cloud dimmed his +sight. He clawed feebly at the buckle and then his numbed fingers +weakened, fell away from it. + +The darkness increased and seemed to lift him from the ground upon +which he lay. It clawed at his throat, entered his nostrils like a +malignant force. + +As his consciousness faded a single thought was in his mind: _Born but +to live a few brief moments and die again. What sense is there to such +a farce as this? Born--but--to die--again. Portox! Help me! It can't +be--There must be some help!_ + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +_On the Plains of Ofrid_ + + +Jlomec the Nadian guided his air car across the grassy plains of Ofrid +but a scant few feet above the tops of the waving grasses. + +It was a fine day and the Nadian was taking full advantage of it. One +of a race of proud and noble fighting men, Jlomec was an exception to +the rule in that he was a dreamer rather than a fighter, a thinker +rather than a doer, a poet rather than a military strategist. + +Thus, his mind dwelt upon the historic incident of the previous days +when, standing beside his brother, Bontarc, he had watched the gray +tower of Portox the Ofridian explode into a fine cloud of dust. + +And it was characteristic of the gentle Jlomec that his mind was more +occupied with the romantic aspect of the incident than the violent. He +thought of the poem, the bit of doggerel carved in the foundation +stone of the tower. For a century all Tarthans had puzzled over the +verse put there by Portox so long ago: + + An ape, a boar, a stallion, + A land beyond the stars, + A virgin's feast, a raging beast, + A prison without bars. + +Had it any meaning? Jlomec wondered. A thousand different +interpretations had been put upon the verse over the years, but no one +knew for sure. + +That it had something to do with the slaughter of the Ofridians, +Jlomec was sure. But what? + +As he ruminated thus, Jlomec's attention was caught by moving figures +some ten jeks to the south. He knew this to be the location of one of +the great wells that dotted the Plains of Ofrid. + +In the times before the great massacre, these wells had been located +in the hearts of the fine Ofridian cities of which the Abarians stood +in great envy. These wells gushed endlessly of cool crystal water +which kept the fabulous hanging gardens of Ofrid multicolored and +beautiful. + +But all that was in the past. The Ofridians had been slain to a man +and their cities leveled until not a stone stood upon a stone. Now +lonely grasses grew where once glittered the results of Portox's great +scientific genius. Now there were only round steel doors in the ground +to mark the locations of the great Ofridian wells. + +These thoughts occupied Jlomec's mind as he turned his car and coursed +it in the direction of the well. The figures came clearly into view, +causing Jlomec to frown in puzzlement. + +What manner of people were these? There were a half dozen of them--two +men, three females, and one babe-in-arms. Jlomec got the impression +that--though they were erect and finely formed--that they were of +short stature. + +But now he realized he had got this impression only by their +comparison to the seventh figure by the well. He knew at a glance that +this seventh was an Abarian warrior, exceptionally tall and wearing +the look of grim cruelty so characteristic of his race. + +Jlomec paid the Abarian scant heed however, so engrossed was he in +studying the strange half-dozen. Their skins were richly browned and +they wore almost no clothing. + +Who could they be? Jlomec wondered, and from whence had they come? +Mightily intrigued, he moved forward until he came within earshot of +the party. Then, for reason of the words he heard spoken, he halted +his air car and frowned. + + * * * * * + +The Abarian, he recognized as the famed Retoc himself. A fierce stad +pawed the ground nearby indicating how the tall, sneering commander of +the Abarians had arrived at this spot. Retoc was known to roam the +Plains of Ofrid at times, still savoring the destruction he and his +sire, Harnod, had accomplished; pleasuring himself with memories of +bodies piled high, of bloody swords and helpless cries of the dying. + +Or was it for some other reason that Retoc roamed the plains? Was it a +nameless fear that drove him there? Did the accusing face of Portox +the Ofridian genius still hang balefully in his memory? Had Portox +acquainted the Abarian devil with knowledge that he alone carried in +his guilty heart? And did that knowledge generate a fear that Retoc +the Abarian could not rid himself of? + +At any rate, he now stood between the brown people and the Ofridian +well, enjoying a useless cruelty as was his custom. + +The leader of the group extended his hands in supplication and said, +"We only ask water, sire. A small thing, but long have we waited to +quench our thirst." + +Retoc said, "What manner of people are you?" + +"Harmless ones. See? We are unarmed and peaceful." + +"That does not answer my question. Tell me who you are and from whence +you came. Then we will see whether my fancy dictates that you shall +have water from this well." + +Indignation and rage dimmed Jlomec's better judgment. He had glided in +beyond range of Retoc's vision and now he leaped from his car and drew +his wandlike whip-sword. "Is there no drop of common decency or +compassion left in you, Retoc, that you do this thing to helpless +people?" + +The Abarian whirled with alarm not knowing what force might be arrayed +against him. But when he saw the lone Jlomec, his composure returned +and his self-assurance again took charge. Had the newcomer been +Bontarc, the dreamy Jlomec's skillful brother, Retoc the Abarian would +have conducted himself differently. But as it was, he sneered at the +gentle Nadian and asked, "What business of this is yours, Jlomec?" + +"Injustice is everyone's business. These people, whoever they are, ask +only to drink." Jlomec's eyes blazed. "And drink they shall, Abarian!" + + * * * * * + +Retoc's handsome eyes glowed. No doubt as to the outcome of this +contest. He drew his own sword and whipped its supple length through +the air. "Since you choose to champion this scum, let's get on with +it." + +Had Jlomec's indignation not been of a quality to blind him to +consequences, he would have perhaps hesitated. But hot with this +injustice, he whipped his own sword and leaped at Retoc. + +The latter, with a grim smile of confidence, parried the thrust with +ease and manipulated his own whip-sword with a skill which few +fighting men on the planet Tarth could have equalled. + +The weapons were strange ones by Earth standards and would have +probably been considered impractical. They were a good six feet in +length with the supple resiliency of a fly casting rod. The trick of +using them effectively lay in controlling the sway and whip of the +long thin blades by skillful use of the wrist. An expert Tarthan +swordsman could parry a thrust with a lightning whip of his blade, arc +the singing steel in the opposite direction and perhaps bring his +opponent down with a thrust that would enter between his shoulder +blades, the sword still arced to describe half a circle. + + * * * * * + +In essence, this favorite weapon of the Tarthans was a combination of +whip and sword and combat was a matter of thrusting at angles far +wider than could be achieved with a stiff blade. A good Tarthan +swordsman would have been an excellent billiard player on Earth for +his knowledge of workable angles was of necessity supreme. + +Retoc the Abarian was a master at this swordplay. Enjoying himself +hugely because there was little risk, he toyed with the less skillful +Nadian. He did not intend to kill Jlomec, fearing the wrath of +Bontarc. He meant only to teach the stupid Nadian a lesson he would +not forget. + +But as his blade sang and stung, its needle point darting in like the +fangs of a snake's head, and as Jlomec's clumsy blade sought +desperately to parry, Retoc's blood lust rose to the fore. The joy of +dealing death to the helpless was upon him and with a swift thrust he +allowed his blade to enter Jlomec's unprotected back just above the +kidney, to streak upward through his body and pierce his heart. + +Frightened at what he had done he jerked the blade free. Its entwined +force whirled Jlomec in a complete circle from which he fell limply, +dead before he hit the ground. + +Retoc stood scowling at the fallen Nadian, his dripping blade rising +and falling gently in the breeze as he held it extended. The Abarian's +eyes darted to the group of brown-skinned folk, his anger centering +upon them as he nimbly switched the blame for this foul murder from +his own shoulders to theirs. If they had not been at the well-- + +He was ready to extend his slaughter in their direction, to wipe out +the lot of them, when he paused, his scowl deepening. There was fear +and awe upon their faces but they were not regarding either Retoc or +his fallen adversary. + +Their eyes were turned in another direction and Retoc sent his own +glance after theirs. His eyes held upon what he saw. A naked man. But +such a man as he had never before seen on all the planet Tarth. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +_The White God_ + + +Bram Forest returned to consciousness and realized the black nausea of +his previous moments had vanished. All traces of the sickness were +gone as he opened his eyes, his mind intent upon the small flat +package that had dropped from the box in which he had found the +strange disc-like instrument. But the package was not within reach. + +This caused only a small part of his bewilderment however. His +attention was riveted mainly upon the tableaux being enacted before +him. A group of people, almost as naked as himself, deeply browned of +skin, stood huddled nearby. + +Almost as though for the entertainment of these, two grim and +uniformed warriors were facing each other on the level turf before the +strange circular ground-entrance beside which Bram Forest found +himself. + +The two warriors possessed strange supple swords which they +manipulated with much skill. At least, one of the warriors did. The +other seemed clumsy in comparison but there was no hint of cowardice +in his manner. + +Upon closer inspection the two warriors who had seemed of a cut at +first glance were quite dissimilar. The one of greater skill was dark +and possessed of a cruel mouth and venomous dark eyes. The other was +slim and fair with contemptuous blue eyes. He fought with an erect +stiffness in his shoulders which was both awkward and dignified at the +same time. + +The sympathy of Bram Forest went out instinctively to the fair one but +the dark, sinister swordsman held his attention. There was something +naggingly familiar about the dark one's cruel face. A tantalizing +familiarity that bemused Bram Forest even as the singing swords +thrust and parried with that of the dark warrior always on the +offensive and the other fighter striving more for self-preservation +than for aggressiveness. + +Where, Bram Forest wondered, had he seen the dark one before? Nowhere, +of course. Any previous contact was impossible. Or was it? Dared he, +Bram Forest, call anything impossible after what had already occurred? + +Bram Forest glanced down and realized he had been removing the disc +from his left wrist and placing it on his right. He had committed the +act instinctively, in the same manner he breathed and moved and his +mind went back momentarily to the two tubes he had found in his ears +when he awoke in the cavern back on Earth. + +Back on Earth? How did he know he was not still on that planet? I've +got to stop questioning these things I possess knowledge of but know +not why. I must take them at face value and without wonder. Otherwise +I shall spend all my years in conflict with my own mind. + +At that moment, the dark warrior's whip-sword whined in a skillful arc +and entered the body of the fair one. A moan of sympathy arose from +the waiting group as the defeated warrior sank to the ground, his face +strained in agony and fast becoming a death-mask. + +The dark warrior stepped back, a cruel sneer of satisfaction gleaming +in his eyes. Bram Forest, sickened by the unequal contest rose up from +where he lay and moved forward. This drew the attention of both the +group and the victorious warrior and the effect was electric. + +The huddled observers reacted with a mixture of consternation, awe, +and fear that would have been comic under less tense circumstances. +They dropped as one to their knees. They placed their foreheads upon +the ground. A concerted moan escaped them that far transcended in +depth and feeling the one with which they had reacted to the death of +the fair warrior. + + * * * * * + +In a language Bram Forest was completely familiar with, their voices +sounded a chant of fear and awe. "The white god has come! The white +god has come! The white god has come!" + +Bram Forest scarcely considered them. He was advancing upon the dark +warrior with the clean, stalking movements of a tiger, his great +shoulders low, his magnificent legs tense for the death spring. + +The dark one was frozen from surprise. From whence had this naked +white creature erupted? He stood stiff from sudden fear and +uncertainty a moment too long and the hands of the avenger were upon +him. The fingers of those hands were like steel talons driving deep +into his throat and in his panicked mind he looked upon the face of +death and found it horrible. He was being driven down to the ground, +lower and lower in abject submission by this strange and terrible +manifestation the brown-skinned ones had called a white god. + +The dark warrior's mind raced and in his terrorized desperation a +native cunning sprang to his aid. Using every ounce of his remaining +strength, he forced words up from his tortured throat. "Would you kill +an unarmed man?" + +The words touched a responsive chord in Bram Forest's mind. The craven +spoke aptly. By killing him thus, was not Bram Forest doing the same +thing for which he had condemned the other? + +Bram Forest straightened and hurled the cringing figure from him. +"Then defend yourself, swine!" he cried and seized up the dead +warrior's shining whip sword. + +The dark one sought means of escape but he feared turning from this +avenger as much as facing him. He could only play for time. + +Rising, he retrieved his own sword and faced the other with his +expression of fear not one whit abated. The man of the steel hands +whipped the sword experimentally and the dark one was struck by a ray +of hope. The other's actions with the blade were as clumsy as had been +those of Jlomec the Nadian. Perhaps all was not lost. + + * * * * * + +The dark one gripped his blade and moved forward in the customary +crouch of the Tarthan fighting man. Then elation welled up within him +as the answering posture of the other revealed him as knowing nothing +whatever of the whip-sword's use. The dark one's smile returned. God +or not, the skill of this one with the ancient weapon of Tarth was +even less than that of the pathetic Jlomec. + +The dark warrior parried a clumsy thrust with ease and whipped his +blade around to harass the other's exposed back. "You are a fool!" he +said, "whatever else you may be. As you die, give thought to the fact +that you join a large company. Those who have faced the greatest +swordsman of Tarth and fallen ignobly before his blade." + +With that the dark one whipped his blade home and spun his adversary +expertly in order to discover the exact point of entrance of the +blade. His aim was true. + +It was just a trifle low but the other fell heavily and the dark +warrior withdrew his blade and wiped it uneasily. His nervousness +sprang from fear. If one of these so-called gods had appeared, why not +two, or four, or a dozen? The Tarthan swordsman, well up on the +principles of discretion, felt a sudden urge to be quit of this +locality. + +It was indeed a disconcerting place. Brown folk, the identity and +origin of which he knew not. A white creature with steel hands +appearing from nowhere. What would the next manifestation be? + +The dark warrior moved swiftly toward his waiting stad. He mounted and +rode away and not until the figures about the well were tiny spots +almost beyond range of his vision, did he again breathe easily. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +_The Brown Virgin_ + + +Bram Forest moved from unconscious into a dark half-world of pain and +frustration. He felt his flame-seared body to be hanging upon the edge +of a black abyss into which he could neither fall nor draw away from. + +At times, it seemed, gentle hands reached out to explore but were +without the strength to draw him back from the perilous precipice upon +which he hung. + +There was an endless time of balance in this dark half-world and then +the thick blackness faded to a gray, the precipice seemed to draw away +of its own volition, and the pain within him lessened. + +He opened his eyes. + +He was lying on a bed of soft, cool moss in a semi-dark cavern with +the sound of tinkling water in the distance. He lay staring at the +ceiling for a long time, wondering into what manner of place he had +come and how. Then his keen ears caught the sound of breathing other +than his own; a soft breathing that fell gently upon his senses and +calmed rather than alerted him. + +He turned his head and saw a beautiful, naked brown-skinned girl +kneeling nearby but beyond his reach. He was struck first by the +beauty of her face and form and then by the fact that she was not as +completely brown as his first impression had given him to believe. Her +breasts and loins were of pure white and droplets of shining water ran +down her body. + +She was in the act of replacing a sort of leather harness upon her +person and Bram Forest realized she had just returned from bathing at +whatever place the unseen water gurgled and laughed and that she was +now dressing herself. + +He held his peace until the act was completed, not wishing to +embarrass her by making his consciousness known while she was nude. + +After a few moments, the harness was in place and she rose to stand +erect and shake out her dark shining hair. Bram Forest chose this time +to speak. "I do not know who you are, but I am obviously in your debt. +My gratitude." + +The girl reacted like a startled fawn and drew back several paces. +"You have regained consciousness?" + +"It seems so. Where is this place and how came I here?" + +"We brought you." + +Bram Forest's brow furrowed in thought. "Oh, yes. Now I remember. +There were a group of people such as you at the place I tried to fight +the dark swordsman with his own weapons." Bram Forest chuckled +ruefully. "It seems I did not fare so well." + +"When we discovered you were not our god, the others wanted to leave +you there to die but I resisted this as being inhuman and made them +bring you here." + +"Where are the rest?" + +"They have returned." + +"Returned whence?" + +The girl lowered her beautiful head sadly. "That I cannot tell you." + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest smiled. "Be not so sad. The fact that you prefer to keep +the information to yourself is no reason for near-tears." + +"I am not sad for that reason, sire." + +"Then why?" + +"Because you asked the question and are even more surely therefore, +not our god." + +Bram Forest was deeply curious and half-amused at the trend of this +conversation. "Tell me this, then. Why does my asking the question +eliminate all possibility of my being your god?" + +"Because if you were the god we seek and yearn for, you would not have +to ask where my people went. You would know." + +"Instead of clarifying the situation," Bram Forest mused, "each +question sends me deeper and deeper into a mental labyrinth." + +"We risked our lives in going to the place you found us. It was +forbidden to credit the ancient legend of our people. Therefore--" + +"What legend?" + +"That upon this day and at that place our god would appear to deliver +us." + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest, now desperately seeking a question that would clarify +rather than further befuddle, held up his hand. "Wait. If you expected +a god to appear and I arrived on schedule, how can you be so sure that +I am not he?" + +"We thought so when you advanced upon the hideous Abarian and took his +throat in your great hands. But when you not only allowed him to live +but also suffered him to take up his whip-sword and come within an +eyelash of killing you, we knew you were not our god." + +Bram Forest nodded with understanding. "I can see now how stupid that +act was. Certainly not a manner in which a genuine god would conduct +himself." He glanced at the girl and smiled. "Please come closer that +I may see you better." + +She moved her head in the negative, reluctantly, Bram Forest thought, +and replied, "If you were our god I would gladly place myself in your +power to do with me as you would, but as you are mortal, I must remain +away from you." + +Bram Forest frowned. "Again things get murky." + +"I am a virgin," the beautiful girl explained simply and with no +self-consciousness whatever. "I must remain so until my time is +ordained. If I lost my virginity, even through violation that I +resist, I would immediately be delivered into the Golden Ape." + +Bram Forest came upright, causing the girl to retreat a step further +in alarm. "The Golden Ape, did you say?" + +"Yes." + +"And you are a virgin--" + +This last was a statement rather than a question as Bram Forest sank +back, his eyes misty with thought. "An ape, a boar, a stallion--" he +pondered. "A virgin's feast--" + +The girl eyed him with concern. "Are you sure that your wound has not +caused--" + +"It is not that," he said, switching his mind back to things of the +moment. "I'm just wondering--might you tell me your name without +breaking any rules of reticence?" + + * * * * * + +"I am Ylia," she said with a childlike solemnity that touched Bram +Forest. + +"And does Ylia never smile?" + +It seemed to him she made an effort to do this but was so unfamiliar +with the expression that she could not manage it. + +He extended a hand, not disconcerted that she did not come close and +take it. He said, "Ylia, I would not again ask a question you did not +wish to answer before. But I am mightily puzzled about the life you +must have led--about that manner of males you have had contact with. +They are certainly a miserable lot if a female of their race must look +to her virtue every waking moment. + +"As for me, Ylia--and please believe--I would no more touch you in +desire than I would knowingly injure a child. You are safe in my +presence as in the most guarded room of a nunnery." + +If he expected gratitude or a pat on the back for his nobility, he was +rudely surprised. Ylia straightened, her young breasts protruding +gracefully and if she did not react with anger, her face mirrored +something close to it. + +"Then I am not desirable?" + +Bram Forest blinked. "I did not say that. You are one of the fairest I +have ever set eyes upon." + +This puzzled Ylia completely. "Then in the name of the Golden Ape, +why--?" + +Bram Forest raised his hand with a gesture of both interruption and +surrender. "Please! Let us pursue this subject no further. The waters +grow deep and I suspect quicksand at their bottom. There are questions +in my mind. Allow me to bring them forth with the understanding that +you do not have to answer any you do not wish to." + +It was evident that Ylia's mind was also a bag of conundrums relative +to this late candidate for godhood who had insulted her desirability +and yet complimented her upon it at the same time. She moved forward +and sat gracefully down near the moss resting place of her patient. + +Bram Forest was aware of her tenseness. She was like a beautiful +animal ready to spring away at the first sign of hostile movement on +his part. But he also got the impression that coming within reach of +his arms thrilled her. He believed this even while knowing that she +would have fought like a tigress against any advance upon his part. + +He said, "Ylia, you are indeed a strange child. You remained here +after your people left and brought me back from the brink of death +even with the fear that I would rise up and violate you as soon as I +acquired the strength to do so. Your thought processes are difficult +to understand." + +Ylia lowered her eyes. "You wished to ask some questions, sire." + +"My name is Bram Forest. The _sire_ ill-becomes you." + +"Bram--Forest," she murmured experimentally. Then she raised her eyes +and there dawned upon her face the most brilliant of smiles. Her look +was one of both dignity and gratitude. "You do me much honor, Bram +Forest!" + +"Honor? I fail to understand." + +Ylia's eyes glowed proudly. "Why, you treat me with such respect that +I could be even Volna herself!" + +"And who is this Volna?" + + * * * * * + +Ylia was startled at this strange man's ignorance. "Why, everyone on +Tarth knows of Volna, Princess of Nadia, sister of Bontarc, who is +Prince of Nadia and ruler of that great nation. She is the most +exquisitely beautiful woman ever to be born on Tarth." + +"Fancy that," Bram Forest said with a lack of enthusiasm that proved +marked disinterest. "I'm afraid I've never had the pleasure of the +lady's acquaintance, nor of her illustrious brother, either." + +Ylia lowered her eyes in sadness. "She was also the sister of Jlomec." + +"And who, pray is Jlomec?" + +"I thought you knew since you tried to avenge his death. He was the +Nadian the cruel Abarian Retoc slew under your very eyes." + +"I'm sorry to hear that," Bram Forest said. But the cowardly death had +been accomplished and Bram Forest's mind did not dwell upon it as he +could not see where it affected him one way or another. + +"Ylia," he said, "take it as a supposition that I was born this very +moment and know nothing of this world or its customs. With that in +mind, tell me of it--the things you would tell a wondering child." + +She glanced at him strangely. "I will tell you all that I am not bound +to hold secret." + +"I would not wish to know more." + +The beautiful Ylia leaned forward, so preoccupied with the task she +had set herself that all her reserve and wariness left her. Her action +brought her lowered head close to Bram Forest's face and the sweet +smell of her newly washed and shining hair was in his nostrils. Then +he also became preoccupied with the map Ylia was drawing on the floor +of the cavern. + +Long they sat thus, Ylia enjoying her task and Bram Forest's facile +mind drawing in each syllable she spoke and committing it to memory. + +Finally the sun lowered and the interior of the cavern darkened until +they could no longer see each other. The most important conviction +Bram Forest arrived at from Ylia's discourse was indeed a startling +one. He was certain that this Tarth was a twin planet to Earth of +which there was complete knowledge in his mind. He could hardly escape +the fact that Tarth swung in an orbit exactly opposite to that of its +more familiar counterpart, thus remaining invisible from it. + +This conviction came to him through several things Ylia said and it +was buttressed by a bit of Tarthan mythology she chanced to mention. +The legend told of a flame-god, obviously the sun, which stood forth +in its wrath one long-distant day and hurled two great stones at a +demon who came from far away bent upon torment. This last Bram Forest +thought, was perhaps a comet of great size that tore both worlds from +the sun and set them upon their orbits. The existence of the +mythological legend indicated too, that civilization on Tarth was not +backward or at least had not been in ages gone. + +In the more exact realm, Bram Forest learned that Tarth was far less +watery than its invisible sister, scarcely half its surface consisting +of ocean. It had two ice caps at the poles, known as the Outer Reaches +and an equator termed the Inner Belt. + + * * * * * + +There were no isolated continents according to Ylia's map, all the dry +surfaces being connected by wide passages of land through the +continuous ocean. + +Ylia's description of the people interested Bram Forest most +intensely. On Tarth, he learned, there was no association of nations, +each mistrusting the others in a world where a state of continuous war +at some point of the globe was an accepted state of affairs which no +one sought to ameliorate. + +Ylia herself was hazy upon the description and number of the nations. +She thought some two hundred existed but only the most important could +she describe. + + * * * * * + +The Abarians were the most successfully warlike, fearing only the +Nadians to the south. This because though the Nadians were not +aggressive and even treated other lesser nations in a kindly fashion, +they possessed an inherent fighting skill and a power potential that +had not been tested in recallable history. Though they had not fought +for centuries, their potential had not lessened because such a folly +would have been considered tantamount to national suicide on Tarth. + +There were also the Utalians that Bram Forest visualized as some sort +of lizard men for the reason that they possessed the defensive +characteristics of the chameleon. There was also another intriguing +race, no member of which Ylia had ever seen. She referred to them as +the Twin People of Coom, an area near the north Outer Reach. Bram +Forest speculated upon what manner of people they would be and it came +to him that the evolutionary processes on Tarth had not corresponded +to those of Earth, where all members of the human race evolved into +practically the same form. + +Then a name came into Bram Forest's mind; a name that rose out of that +mysterious well of knowledge in his subconscious; a well he could not +explain but had been forced to accept. He no longer questioned it. + +"Tell me of the Ofridians." + +Ylia started as though he had slapped her. The deep brown of her +beautiful face paled somewhat and her eyes grew very sad. + +Bram Forest saw the sadness by the light of the moon, that had risen +and was sending wan light in through the cavern's entrance. He only +sensed the paleness from the tremor of Ylia's voice. "It grows late. I +must go and bring food. Your strength must be nurtured and +greatened." + +With that, she hurried off in the direction of the sounding water, +leaving Bram Forest both bewildered and intrigued. Why had she reacted +so violently to his question? And for that matter, why had he been +able to ask the question in the first place? By what process did he +know the name _Ofrid_ and that it designated a nation on Tarth, +without knowing of that nation and already possessing the knowledge +for which he had begged the patient and beautiful Ylia? + +Then he remembered that he had resolved not to wonder about these +things--and at the same instant, remembered something else. + +The small, flat package that had fallen from the box back on Earth. It +had been his first thought upon regaining consciousness near the +Ofridian well but it had been pushed from his mind by subsequent +events. + +How long ago had that been? He tried to assess the passage of time but +failed. The only indication of its length was the fact that he bore no +wound where the Abarian's blade had entered his body. That pointed to +a long span of unconsciousness but perhaps there were contributing +factors. + + * * * * * + +He had sensed that the mysterious Ylia had at her command something +that had healed him very swiftly but he had no proof of this. + +At any rate, he had to retrieve the package if possible. But would it +be possible? Granted the strange disc had brought him somehow from +Earth to Tarth, would it repeat the process in the opposite direction? + +He resolved to find out and began unbuckling the disc from its place +on his right wrist. + +As he did this a sound manifested outside the cavern but he was so +intent upon his task that he gave little note. Quickly, he strapped +the disc into its potent position on his left wrist. Then he sat +tensely awaiting the reaction. + +As he waited, the sound without became so pronounced he could no +longer ignore it. He raised his head and saw a tall, sinister form +outlined against the moonlight. He was unable to distinguish the +features, but the outline told a sickening truth. Also the drawn +whip-sword spoke eloquently of who this intruder was. + +The Abarian of the Ofridian well in search of prey. The cowardly +assassin who would now enter and find a defenseless man and a +beautiful girl who would set him aflame with lust. + +Rage threw a red curtain over Bram Forest's eyes as he struggled up to +meet the intruder. But the latter never saw him because at that moment +the now-familiar nausea seized Bram Forest's vitals, doubling him +over. + +And when the Abarian had advanced into the cavern, he found only an +empty bed of moss, Bram Forest having been snatched up and whirled +into darkness by the relentless hand of time put into terrifying +motion. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +_In Custody_ + + +Bram Forest regained consciousness upon a grassy slope across which +slanted the rays of a setting sun. The same sun that had warmed him +upon the planet Tarth--of this he was certain. + +He arose and glanced about quickly, realizing--while he was sure he +had returned to Earth--that he could be many miles from the mysterious +mansion under which he had spent one hundred years. + +[Illustration: Screaming, Ylia offered her own body in defense of her +loved one.] + +At first his heart sank because the terrain was not at all familiar. +Then it rose again as he saw the tower of the gray mansion pushing +somberly above the line of the forest top. He stood for a moment, +orienting himself with the tower the center of his calculations. Then +he moved out of the glade toward his right. + +But he had gone scarcely ten feet into the wooded area when his +sharpened instincts gave him quick warning and he dropped like a stone +and lay still. + +The sound of footsteps greatened until their echo came loud in his +ears and a man passed not ten feet from his outstretched hands. + +The man wore the blue uniform and smart cap of a state trooper and he +was on the alert but not so much so as to detect the silent Bram +Forest. + +The latter, with the first moment he had had to give thought to +himself since he had awakened in the cavern on the Plains of Ofrid, +realized suddenly that he was no longer naked. He had of course been +vaguely aware of this before but now he gave it his attention and +realized what had happened. He focused on past events. + + * * * * * + +During his time of unconsciousness from the treacherous Abarian's +blade thrust, the beautiful Ylia had garbed him in the brilliant +uniform of the slain Nadian, Jlomec. This uniform was both colorful +and practical but it did nothing to either hide or encumber the great +muscles of his chest and arms, thighs. + +The State Trooper passed on his way and Bram Forest wondered what he +was doing about the old mansion. But this did not occupy his thoughts +for long. As soon as the way was clear, he moved like a great cat +through the underbrush toward the spot from whence he had made his +exodus to the planet Tarth. As he skirted the last glade, he prayed +that the second article in the box containing the fabulous disc he had +now switched to his right wrist, still lay where he had carelessly +dropped it. + +He came to the edge of the open field and warily surveyed the terrain. +No one was in sight. He strained his ears for the sound of any +approaching footsteps and heard nothing. He sprang swiftly into the +open and ran across the field. + +It was there--the flat white package--exactly where he had dropped it +that first morning. He swept it up, intent upon returning to the +shelter of the forest. + +But his interest in what lay beneath the white paper wrapping had +grown to such a point of intensity that his footsteps lagged, his +attention riveted upon the tantalizing thing, and he came to a full +stop mid-field while his strong fingers tore at the wrappings. + +The white parchment came away and Bram Forest stared at what was +revealed. Then a strange and terrifying change came over him. His +handsome features contorted as every drop of blood was drained from +his face. His great frame shook as with an illness and such a +demoniacal rage came over him as few people in this or any other world +have seen. + +Now a great and terrifying cry arose from his throat; a cry that make +even the beasts of this forest freeze in their tracks and crouch lower +in their places of concealment. A cry of such rage and agony that even +the trees of the forest seemed to pause and listen in mute wonder.... + + * * * * * + +Mulcahey Davis, State Trooper, picked brambles from the legs of his +blue uniform and cursed his assignment in no uncertain terms. + +Why in the name of law and decency had he and Mowbray been ordered to +patrol this tangled, deserted spook-hole? Sure--the body of some old +hobo had been found in a well with rocks thrown on it but what were he +and Mowbray going to prove by tramping around through these brambles? + +Mulcahey Davis heard footsteps and looked up to see Mowbray laboring +across the last few yards of his beat. Mowbray broke from the last +clutching strands of thorn bush and began beating burrs from his legs. +"Find anything?" he asked. + +"Not a blasted thing. It's downright crazy, our clambering around this +woods. What will we find? A couple of rabbits?" + +"That body in the well has to be investigated," Mowbray said, +seriously. "Pretty odd deal." + +"What progress have they made?" + +"They've located the outfit that held this place in trust, but the guy +in charge had a stroke or something. He can't be questioned. They may +never be able to question him. An old guy named Pride. He's in pretty +bad shape." + +"Chances are he wouldn't know anything about it even if they could ask +him. What would he have been doing out here?" + +"There's that funny fire in the basement, too. Nothing routine about +that. Fire so hot it melted rock. A lot of unanswered questions +here." + +"If they'd ask me, I'd tell them--" + +Mulcahey Davis' throat froze as a terrible cry smote his ears. Mowbray +paled suddenly and the two men looked at each other in instinctive +fear. + +But they were tried and tested law-enforcement officers and were not +held in the grip of terror for long. "Did you hear that?" Mulcahey +Davis said. + +"Good lord, man! How could I help it!" + +"Where'd it come from?" + +"Over there." + +"Let's go." + +The two troopers plunged again into the undergrowth to emerge at the +edge of an open field. And regardless of their personal courage and +experience in their line of effort, what they saw froze them anew. + +A giant of a man--a creature of godlike proportions stood in the open +field, washed by the rays of the setting sun. His great arms were held +aloft and he was looking up into the sky with a terrifying expression +that was a mixture of pain and rage. + +He was speaking and his great voice echoed in what was remindful of a +thunderous prayer. "I know not the purpose for which I was created but +well do I now know my dedicated task. Vengeance! Vengeance such as +this world or any other has never seen!" + +With this the giant--clad in a strange colorful uniform of some +sort--dropped to his knees and lowered his great head into his hands. + +Mowbray's face was grim and alert. "Come on," he whispered. "We're +behind him so we get a break. Move in quietly. And let's get him +before he sees us. I've got a hunch he could lick ten of us and we +don't want to use our guns." + +They crossed the field softly and moved in behind the kneeling man. +They acted in concert with an expertness telling of lengthy +experience. + +Mowbray was thankful for the way it turned out. He knew not why the +giant put up no resistance. The man seemed stunned as from a great +blow and before he could recover, the troopers had him bound hand and +foot with their belts. + +Mulcahey Davis got to his feet and wiped the sweat from his face. +"There's one for the psychos and a padded cell afterwards." + +"You said it," Mowbray agreed heartily. "Let's take him in." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +_The Road to Nadia_ + + +The stads of Abaria, like the masters who rode them, were +ill-accustomed to the clear cold air of Nadia. They snorted visible +jets of vapor into the crisp air as their splayed feet scratched and +slipped, seeking purchase on the ice-covered, up-tilted rocky plain. + +"It's an accursed country, lord," Hultax told the king of the Abarians +as their steeds advanced shoulder and shoulder. + +Retoc sat tall and straight on the stad's broad back, his black cloak +with the royal emblem billowing in the stiff wind, his hard handsome +face ruddy with the cold air, his cruel eyes mere slits against the +Nadian wind. "Quiet, you fool," he admonished Hultax. "Everything we +Abarians say and do in Nadia must be sweetness and light--now." + +The vanguard of the long column of Abarian riders had reached a +rushing mountain stream, its waters too swift to freeze in the +sub-zero temperature. Lifting one hand overhead, Retoc called a halt. + +"They'll find out, lord," Hultax persisted. "They'll find out what you +did. I know they will. They'll find out it was you who killed Jlomec, +their ruler's brother." + +Retoc smiled. The smile made Hultax' blood run cold, for he had seen +such a smile before--when Retoc witnessed the execution of disloyal +Abarian subjects. The smile hardened on Retoc's face, as if it had +frozen there in the cold Nadian wind. "Dismount your steed," he said +in a soft voice which only Hultax heard. + +Trembling, Hultax obeyed his master's command. His stad, suddenly +riderless, pawed nervously at the frost-hardened ground on the edge of +the stream. Retoc withdrew his whip-sword and fondled the +jewel-encrusted haft. "If you ever say that again, here in Nadia or +elsewhere, I will kill you," he warned his lieutenant. + +"But the brown girl--" + +"The brown girl be damned!" roared Retoc in sudden fury. + +"We haven't been able to find her. That day at the cave, she came +rushing out, lord, while you--" + +"I was detained," Retoc said, some of the passion gone from his voice. +He would never forget the sight of the iron-thewed young man, who once +had almost strangled him, growing suddenly, incredibly transparent, +then disappearing. He had stood there, whip-sword in hand, mouth +agape, while the brown girl ran past him and--according to what Hultax +had told him later--mounted his own stad and vanished across the +Ofridian plain. + +"But lord, don't you see?" Hultax demanded. "The brown girl knows what +happened to Jlomec, prince of the royal Nadian blood. If she attends +the royal funeral. She will--" + +Retoc laughed. Hultax blanched. He had heard such laughter when +enemies of Retoc and thus of Abaria had died in pain. "Fool, fool!" he +heard Retoc say now. "Think you a bedraggled wayfaring maid of the +Ofridian desert will be invited to the funeral of a prince of the +Nadian royal blood?" + +"Nevertheless, sire," Hultax persisted, "that day at the cave I took +the liberty to send three of our best stadsmen after the girl with +orders to capture her or kill her on sight." + +Slowly, as a thaw spreads in spring over the broad Nadian ice fields, +Retoc smiled at his second in command. Hultax too let his face relax +into a grateful grin: until now he had been teetering on the brink of +violent death, and he knew it. + +"You may mount," Retoc said. + + * * * * * + +Hastily Hultax climbed astride his stad. Retoc lifted his arm overhead +and made a circular motion with his outstretched hand. The first of +the Abarian stads advanced with some reluctance into the swift cold +shallow water of the stream. + +"What about the white giant?" Hultax asked unwisely when the entire +party had reached the other side and Retoc was urging his stad up the +slippery bank. + +"Have your scouts been able to find the wayfarers who saw him?" + +"No, sire. Only the girl nursed him back to health. The others fled." + +"And wisely. They have learned to hold their tongues, as you should +learn, Hultax. They will give us no trouble. As far as they are +concerned, there is no white giant." + +"But there is talk of what happened at the Tower, and of Portox' +wizardry, and a god who would return, full-grown in exactly a hundred +years--" + +"Shut up!" Retoc cried, almost screaming the words. + +But that night at the Abarian encampment a day and a half's march +from Nadia city, Retoc dreamed of Queen Evalla, the lovely Ofridian +ruler whose slow death by torture he had relished as the final act of +his utter destruction of the once proud Ofridian nation. Evalla in the +dream seemed happy and confident. Retoc awoke sweating although frigid +winds howled over the Nadian ice-fields. Her confidence sent unknown +fear through him. + + * * * * * + +"Really, it's quite simple," the superbly-muscled prisoner said in the +language which was not his own but which he could speak as well as a +native. "You see, it wasn't simple at all until I saw what was in the +package, but it's quite simple now. In the package was a picture of my +mother, the dead Queen Evalla. I am her son. I am of the royal blood. +When I saw the picture, it suddenly triggered my memory-responses, as +Portox had arranged. Then--" + +"What about the old guy in the well?" the trooper asked +unimaginatively. + +"I'm sorry. I can't answer your questions now. I have to return to my +home. The handful of wayfarers who alone are left of a once great +nation are waiting for vengeance. I will...." + +His voice trailed on, earnestly, politely. The trooper looked at the +man from the state mental hospital, who shook his head slowly. They +left the powerful, polite prisoner in his cell and went through the +corridor to the prison office. + +"Real weirdy, huh, doc?" the trooper said. + +"A--uh--weirdy to you, but rather cut and dry to me, I'm afraid," Dr. +Slonamn said. "Delusions of grandeur and delusions of persecution. +Advanced paranoia, I'm afraid." + +"It's funny, doc. When they took everything away from him he might +hurt himself with, he didn't mind at all. Only the bracelet. Three +strong men had to hold him when they took the bracelet." + +"Bracelet?" Dr. Slonamn said. + +"We got it in the office. I'll show you." + +The bracelet turned out to be a small, mesh-metal strap as wide around +as a big man's upper arm. Attached to the strap was a disc of silvery +metal. + +"You'd think it was worth a million bucks," the trooper said. + +Dr. Slonamn nodded sagely. "Paranoid. It helps confirm the diagnosis. +You see, out of touch with the real world, a paranoid can attach great +value to utterly worthless objects. Well, I'll write out my report, +sergeant." + +"Captain Caruthers said to thank you, sir." + +"Not at all. Part of my job." + +Meanwhile, back in his cell, the prisoner, big hands gripping the bars +so tight that his knuckles were white, was thinking: _I've got to make +them understand. Somehow I've got to make them understand before it's +too late._ + +He closed his eyes, lost in intense thought. When he did so, an image +swam before his mind's eye. He did not know how this could be, but +ascribed it to more of the dead Portox' magic. + +What he saw was the barren ice fields of Nadia, with several great +caravans making their slow way across the bleak blazing whiteness +toward Nadia City. As was the custom in Nadia, the prisoner--whose +name was Bram Forest--knew, great funeral games would be held to honor +the memory of the late beloved Prince Jlomec. And it was here in +frigid Nadia, at such a time as this, when all the royal blood of all +the royal households of Tarth gathered, the wizardry of Portox seemed +to tell him, that vengeance would come. Here, if only.... + +_Ylia!_ + +The image blurred. He had seen her once. His knuckles went white as +bleached bone on the bars. He concentrated every atom of his will. +_Ylia, Ylia!_ But now with his eyes shut he saw nothing. With his eyes +opened, only the bars of his cell and the cell-block corridor beyond. +_Ylia, Ylia! Hear me. There is danger on the road to Nadia. Ylia...._ + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +_On the Ice Fields of Nadia_ + + +B'ronth the Utalian left footprints in the snow. + +Otherwise, B'ronth was invisible. But if a hidden observer watched the +Utalian's slow progress across the ice fields of Nadia he would see +where the ice was soft or where snow had fallen during the night into +the gullies, the unexpected, mysterious appearance of footprints, a +left staggered after a right, then another left, then a right again, +then a left. + +Actually, B'ronth the Utalian was not invisible. But like all +Utalians, he was a chameleon of a man. Within seconds his skin would +assume the color of its environment, utterly and completely. Thus, +from above B'ronth the Utalian was the dazzling white of the Nadian +ice-fields; from below, looking up at the pale cloudless sky, he was +cold, transparent blue. + +All morning he had been trailing the girl. He had reached her camp on +the road to Nadia only moments after she had quit it in company with +an old man. From the tattered snow cloaks they wore, they both clearly +were wayfarers. B'ronth could have challenged them at once, sprinting +across the ice toward them, but he hadn't done that. B'ronth the +Utalian was a coward. He accepted the fact objectively: his people +were notorious cowards. The proper time would come, he told himself. +There would come a time when the girl and the old man were helpless. +Then he, B'ronth, would strike. + +The day before an Abarian warrior had given him a description of the +girl and had promised him a bag of gold for her capture, half a bag of +gold if he killed her and could prove it. A bag of gold, he thought. +He would take her alive. It was a long, cold road to Nadia City. True, +B'ronth the Utalian was small of stature, a puny creature like all his +people. And there were certain disadvantages in his perfect +camouflage. He was walking naked across the ice-fields in order to +remain unseen. His flesh shivered and his bones were stiff. But a +Nadian boy named Lulukee, whom B'ronth had promised half the gold, was +not many minutes' march behind him with warm clothing, food, and +drink. After he captured the girl.... + + * * * * * + +Invisible, he mounted a rise where solid sheet ice adhered to the +shoulder of a rocky hill. Below him, traversing a snow-floored valley +and so far away that they were mere dots against the snow, were the +old man and the girl. + +B'ronth the Utalian chuckled. The sound was swept up instantly and +dispersed by the wind. It was a cold wind and it all but froze B'ronth +to the marrow, but the Nadian sun was surprisingly warm and now seemed +to beam down on him with promise of his golden reward. Shivering both +from cold and delight, the invisible Utalian walked swiftly down into +the snow-mantled valley. + +There would be a trail of footprints for the boy Lulukee to +follow.... + + * * * * * + +"Cold, Hammeth?" Ylia asked her companion. + +"No, girl. I'll manage if you will. Is it much further?" + +"Half a day's march to Nadia City yet, I'm afraid," Ylia said. "We +could rest if you wish." + +The man was extremely old by Tarthian standards, probably three +hundred and fifty years old. He wore a snow-cape of _purullian_ fur +which the wind whipped about his bony frame and up over his completely +bald head. "I'm sorry, Ylia," he said suddenly. There were tears in +his eyes which the cold and the wind did not explain. + +"What for? You came to the cave. You accompanied me here to Nadia." + +"When Retoc the Abarian almost killed the White God, I fled with the +others." + +"If you didn't flee you too might have been slain, Hammeth." + +"Yet you remained behind." + +"He still lived. Someone had to tend him." + +Hammeth's breath came in shallow gasps. He once had been a strong, big +man, but the life and the strength had fled his frame when Retoc +destroyed Ofrid, a hundred years before. As a wayfarer on the Plains +of Ofrid, he had aged in those hundred years. And he had shrunk and +shriveled with approaching senility. "Tell me, Ylia," he asked, +panting, "is this Bram Forest you speak of indeed the--the god of the +legend? The God of the Tower come to right the ancient wrongs?" + +A frown marred the beauty of Ylia's matchless face. "At first," she +said with a far-away look in her lovely eyes, "at first I thought he +was. Hadn't he come, suddenly, from nowhere, at the ordained moment? +But then when he did not slay Retoc, when instead he allowed Retoc the +use of his whip-sword and was almost slain by Retoc, when he bled like +any mortal, when he--" All at once Ylia was blushing. + +"What is it, child?" Hammeth asked. + +"Nothing. It is nothing." + +"Ylia. You were the infant daughter of a lady in waiting of the royal +court of Ofrid. I was a captain of the Queen's Guards. When Retoc's +legions brought their death and destruction, I fled to the wilderness +with you. I raised you from infancy. I--" the old man's eyes clouded +over with emotion--"you have no secrets from me, child." + +Ylia was still blushing. But a serene smile replaced the frown on her +face. "Very well, Father Hammeth, I will tell you. There in the cave +as I nursed the stranger back to health, as he grew stronger and could +move about, as we conversed and came to know each other, I--I desired +him." + +Hammeth said nothing. His face was stern. + +"Please," said Ylia, laughing now that her secret was out. "It wasn't +the kind of desire that could make me a candidate for the Golden Ape, +but--I desired him. It was a pure, sweet emotion, such as I have never +felt before. I wanted him. I wanted to serve him. I wanted to spend my +life helping him and ... Hammeth ... Father Hammeth ... loving him. +There, I have said it." + + * * * * * + +Hammeth only muttered. They plodded on through the snow, which here +was deep and powdery so they floundered sometimes to their knees. + +"But a girl shouldn't feel such desire for a god, so I told myself he +was mortal." Abruptly and for no reason that Hammeth could fathom, +Ylia began to cry. + +"What is it, child? What is it?" + +"He--he fled. He had lost much blood and he was weak, yes, but he +didn't even stay to protect me. He fled from Retoc. Is that a god? Is +that even a man who can bring retribution to Retoc? Is it, Hammeth? Is +it?" + +"Yet you're taking the road to Nadia even as legend says the White God +will take the road to Nadia." + +"Nonsense," said Ylia, wiping away her tears. "Someone has to tell the +Nadians what really happened to poor Jlomec, that's all. Retoc, Retoc +will have them eating off his hand. He'll have them believing whatever +he says. They'll never know that he killed a prince of their royal +blood." + +"But what can Bontarc of Nadia--or anyone--do against the power of +Retoc's Abarians?" + +"The White God could--" + +"Ah, you see? Then perhaps you do believe, after all." + +"The White God or whoever he was," said Ylia coldly, "fled a coward +from Retoc." She pouted. "And yet, and yet he seemed so confused." + +"Perhaps he fled so that the Ofridians might live again in the pride +of their greatness," Hammeth declared with vehemence. + +"You believe, don't you, Father Hammeth?" Ylia asked simply. + +"I want to believe, child." + +"You're panting so. You're tired. We'll have to stop and rest." + +They were traversing the deepest part of the valley where the Nadian +wind, funneling through between the hills flanking the depression, had +piled the snow into drifts twice the height of a man. They hunkered +down in the lee of one of the snow-drifts, where the wind could not +reach them. With stiff fingers Ylia withdrew strips of jerked stadmeat +from the inside pocket of her snow cloak, sharing them with Hammeth. +They munched the tough cold meat, Ylia looking at the old man with +tenderness and affection. Her foster father, he had been the only +parent she had ever known. She closed her eyes and for a moment +thought back over the years they had spent as wayfarers on the +Ofridian Plain, the years dreaming of revenge and succor which would +never come, the years.... + +"Ylia! Ylia!" + +Father Hammeth was calling her name, urgently. She shook herself from +her reverie. They were seated with their backs to one of the great +snow-drifts, where it fell off suddenly like a suspended, frozen sea +wave. With a trembling hand Hammeth was pointing before him, out +across the ice fields. + +There in the soft snow which mantled the ice of Nadia to a depth of +only a few inches, were footprints. They were not old prints, +deposited there when some wayfarer had passed. Incredibly, they were +being made even as Hammeth and Ylia watched, as if by some creature +with no palpable existence. The icy wind seemed intensified. + + * * * * * + +"It--it's coming toward us," Hammeth said, his voice a croaking +whisper. Ylia knew that he was afraid again. Somehow with the +advancing years, the steel and fire had gone from Hammeth's heart. Or +perhaps, she thought in sympathy, the terrible defeat and destruction +of Ofrid a hundred years ago had done this to him, had turned one of +the Queen's proven champions into an aging craven wayfarer. + +"We'll have to flee," Hammeth said breathlessly. + +Behind them was the frozen wave of snow. To the right, far away across +the snows, Abaria and the Plains of Ofrid. To the left, not half a +day's journey, Nadia City. Ahead of them, the advancing footprints. + +"Your whip-sword!" Ylia cried. "Quickly." + +"I carry it, but I can't use it now," Hammeth protested. "I'm an old +man, Ylia. An old man." + +"Then let me have it." + +"You? But you're just a girl. You couldn't--" + +"Don't you see, Father Hammeth? It's only a man. An Utalian. It can't +be anything else. If he comes in peace, well enough. Otherwise ... +here, give me that sword." + +But Hammeth shook his head with unexpected pride and pulled the weapon +from its scabbard. + +Just then the footprints became wider spaced and appeared more quickly +in the snow. The invisible Utalian was running toward them. Awkward, +cursing at his own impotence, Hammeth fumbled with his weapon. + +_You who call yourself Bram Forest_, Ylia thought, _White God or +whatever you are--help us, help us_! Then she hated herself for the +unbidden thought. Bram Forest had deserted her once, hadn't he, after +she had saved his life? What help could she expect from a man like +Bram Forest? Or was Father Hammeth right? Perhaps Bram Forest had fled +so that Ofrid might one day live again to see the wrath of the gods +fall on Retoc and his Abarians. + +Or, Ylia thought with an abrupt flash of insight, perhaps Bram +Forest's flight had been out of his control. Perhaps he was as yet a +pawn in a game he barely understood.... + +_Bram Forest, we need you!_ + +The running footprints were almost upon them. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +_Volna the Beautiful_ + + +Bram Forest had been day-dreaming. + +Ylia? Hadn't Ylia been calling his name? But how could that be? Ylia +was almost two hundred million miles away. Clearly, as long as they +kept the magic disc away from him, he could never see Ylia again. And +besides, now that he had been vouchsafed a vision of his dead mother, +the former queen of Ofrid, and now that that vision had conjured up +the entire tragic past for him, why was it that when he shut his eyes +and allowed the bright sun to beat down on the lids through the cell +window he saw an image of the sun-browned maid, Ylia? + +Could it be, he asked himself, wondering if somehow he were profaning +the memory of the mother he had never known, that Ylia stood not for +the past but for the present and the future, and that it was in the +present and the unknown future that Bram Forest must live and do his +life's work and perhaps perish, although he was motivated from the +past? + +A guard brought food on a tray. The cell door clanged open, the tray +was delivered, the cell door clanged shut. The guard did not pay +particular attention to Bram Forest: he had been a docile enough +prisoner. + +Ylia, he thought. + +He knew he must escape next time the guard brought food. + + * * * * * + +Dr. Slonamn held up the bracelet with the metal disc on it and stared +curiously at the contraption. He was a psychologist, he could hardly +consider himself an expert on metallurgy. Still, he had never seen a +metal like that from which the disc had been fashioned. It seemed too +opaque for steel, too hard for silver. A steel and silver alloy, then? +But he had never heard of a steel and silver alloy. + +He held it up to the light. Like a fly's many-faceted eye it threw +back manifold images of--himself. Somehow, it made him dizzy to gaze +at the images. He drew his eyes away and had an impulse to fling the +strange disc away across the room. + +The sun was going down. He heard a clattering from the prison kitchen +as the evening meal was prepared. Tomorrow, he thought, should see the +completion of his work here. Another interview with the paranoid giant +who had brought the disc, perhaps. The disc fascinated him. + +He looked at it again. He didn't want to, and recognized the strange +compulsion within himself. Then, before he quite realized it, he was +staring at his multiple image again. His senses swam. There was a +far-away rustling sound like--the words came unbidden to his mind from +a poem by Kipling--like the wind that blows between the worlds. He +gazed again at the disc. It seemed to draw him, as a magnet draws iron +filings. Now he wanted to fight it, wanted to fight with every ounce +of his strength. A wave of giddiness swept over him, leaving nausea in +its wake. He clutched at the prison-office desk for support. The +rustling grew louder. + +He saw--or thought he saw--a girl, a lovely, sun-bronzed girl. There +was a look of fear on her face. She seemed to be crying out for help. + +An abyss yawned before his feet, before his very soul. He longed +despite himself to plunge into the abyss, whatever the fearful +consequences might be. He lurched back, fighting the longing. Yet he +knew he wouldn't win. He took a step forward.... + +"Give it to me!" + +The voice, urgent, distant, beckoned him back to reality. It seemed a +great distance off, but it was something to which he could hold. + +"Give me that disc!" + +He felt himself dragged roughly back, saw the abyss retreating. The +rustling of the wind between the worlds became distant, a sound +imagined rather than heard. + +"Give it to me!" + + * * * * * + +He blinked. The nausea had washed over him. He felt weak, drained, +exhausted. But the substantial reality of the prison office surrounded +him. + +The young giant stood before him, strapping the bracelet which held +the disc on his powerful arm. A look of intense concentration was on +his face. His skin was bathed with sweat although it was cool in the +room. + +"What did you do to the guard?" Dr. Slonamn asked, wondering if the +prisoner would slay him. + +"He'll be all right. I only hit him. I'm sorry. It was necessary." The +giant spoke in haste. His eyes were clouded, dreamy, as if he had +taken an overdose of barbituates. + +"What are you going to do?" + +"You saw? In the disc?" + +"Yes," said Dr. Slonamn. + +"I'm going. It's my home." + +The giant took a step forward, then began to stagger. + +"Your home?" Dr. Slonamn gasped. "Your _home_?" + +The giant, who had given his name to the prison authorities as Bram +Forest, did not answer. Dr. Slonamn reached out, as if to grab him. +Bram Forest stood there, a smile and the acceptance of pain fighting +for mastery of his face. + +Dr. Slonamn staggered back as if struck. _His hand had passed through +Bram Forest's body._ + +Staggering, trembling, Dr. Slonamn leaned for support on the desk. He +could see through Bram Forest now. See through him entirely. + +A cold fierce wind, like no wind ever felt on Earth, touched him. He +shuddered. + +When he looked again, Bram Forest was gone.... + + * * * * * + +"Retoc the Abarian!" the seneschal's voice proclaimed. + +An uneasy stir passed through the crowd of mourning courtiers in the +palace chamber. Retoc, ruler of Abaria, did not often visit Nadia. A +state of armed tension existed between Abaria and Nadia of the ice +fields. Nadia alone of the many disunited nations of Tarth had +strength in some ways comparable to that of black forested Abaria, but +even then, if a war came between the two nations, the issue would +never seriously be in doubt. + +As a matter of diplomacy, Retoc had been invited to the funeral of +Prince Jlomec, although neither Bontarc, ruler of Nadia, nor his +sister, Volna the Beautiful, had ever dreamed he would come. + +While the crowd milled about in their white mourning garments, Retoc +told the seneschal: "I wish an audience with the Princess Volna." + +The crowd was suddenly quiet. Volna the Beautiful, haughty, imperious, +princess of the royal blood, would certainly refuse to see the Abarian +ruler. Nevertheless, the seneschal bowed low, said, "Your request will +be carried to the staff of the royal household, lord," and disappeared +behind a hanging. + + * * * * * + +Some time later, in another part of the palace, Bontarc was saying: +"Volna, Volna, listen to me. You can't see that man now." + +"I'm going to see him," Volna the Beautiful told her brother. "So it +may not be said that a princess of the royal blood hid in fear behind +a wall of tragedy." + +"But sister! With dear Prince Jlomec still not on the burning barge +which will carry him down the River of Ice on the final journey from +which--" + +"Please, brother," Volna said a little coldly. "I'm going to grant +Retoc his audience. Don't you understand? He thinks me weakened by +Jlomec's death. Oh, I loved the Prince, yes. He was always so--so +quiet and aloof from affairs of state. But I can be strong if strong I +have to be." + +"Then you won't change your mind?" Bontarc asked. He was a fighting +man by nature. The devious paths of diplomacy he set foot on only with +reluctance. + +For answer Volna said: "Let me prepare to greet the royal visitor." +And she watched Bontarc leave her quarters. + +At once she clapped her hands. Six serving maids skipped through the +hangings into her huge bower and while they clustered jabbering about +her like so many excited birds, she undid the fastening at her left +shoulder and allowed her gown of mourning white to fall in a crumpled +heap at her feet. She stood naked and perfectly still while the +serving maids administered to her, each girl a master in one of the +cosmetic arts. And Volna, she of the haughty face and glorious body, +she who already had been beautiful to look upon, was soon transformed +by the cosmetic arts into the loveliest woman the planet Tarth had +seen since the Queen Evalla. + +Her thoughts went to the dead queen of Ofrid as the maids dressed her +again in the mourning garment. Evalla, a woman with beauty to match +Volna's, had ruled the most powerful nation Tarth had ever known. +Then, Volna smiled, why not another such woman, with hands strong +enough, and vision clear enough, to grasp the chalice of power and +drink deeply of its heady brew? + + * * * * * + +"Retoc," she was saying a few moments later. + +She clapped her hands. The maids in waiting withdrew, giggling. + +"Volna, Volna," said the big Abarian ruler. "You are glorious. Every +jek of the journey from the Plains of Ofrid across the ice fields of +Nadia, I burned for you." He came very close to her. His face swam +before her vision, a hard, strong, handsome face with the cruel eyes +of a sadist. Fitting consort for a woman who would rule the world? His +lips parted.... + +Volna, smiling, placed her cool hand over his mouth. + +"Then let me put out the fire," she said coolly, "for we have much to +discuss." + +"But Princess, I--" + +"Hush. And what, exactly, were you doing on the Plains of Ofrid?" + +Retoc's big face flushed red. Then, when he saw Volna was still +smiling, he said: "When we met last, you mentioned that two men stood +between you and the throne of Nadia." + +"Yes?" said Volna, mocking him, turning swiftly with the light behind +her sending its bright beams through the white mourning garment and +outlining the seductive curves of her body. + +"Jlomec is dead," Retoc said simply. + +Still smiling, Volna slapped the big man's face ringingly. Retoc +stepped back, startled. + +"Fool!" Volna hissed. "I can call the guards. I can have you slain." + +"But I--" + +"I did not say I was not pleased. But don't lie to me. That isn't why +you slew my brother. Well, man, is it?" + +Retoc bowed his head. Only in his eyes there was fury. "We'll make a +strange pair, Volna, you and I," he said passionately. + +"Is it?" + +Retoc shook his head slowly. + +"You see? I knew it. I knew it was you when they told us Jlomec had +been slain, and yet because I know you and know too how you are quick +to passion, I told myself you had not done it consciously because I +had suggested it to you. Fool. Can I trust such as you?" + +"Only Bontarc stands between you and empire. And Bontarc is a simple +man." + +"As you are a passionate man." + +"Yet you need me, Volna. You need the strength of my arm--and my army. +What a pair we'll make!" + +Volna stepped into the embrace of his big arms and allowed herself to +be kissed. Retoc burned for her. He had said so. All men burned for +her, she knew that. And, before she was finished, every man of Tarth +would kneel at her feet and call her Queen. + +Retoc drew back finally, breathing hard. Volna had for him only a +cool, mocking smile. + + * * * * * + +At last he said, "There are some who might say Retoc of Abaria killed +the royal prince." + +"Dolt! Were you seen?" + +Retoc shrugged as if it were not important. "A band of wayfarers on +the Ofridian Plain. They were so frightened, they fled at once. After +I had wounded the white giant." + +Volna's eyes flashed suddenly. "There was someone else? You did not +kill him?" + +"I tried to. He escaped, Princess." + +"Then you are more a fool than I thought." + +"But I--" + +"Begone! We can't be seen together too much. Take quarters in Nadia +City, and let me know where you are. You understand?" + +"Yes, Princess." + +She allowed him to kiss her hand, then he withdrew. A few moments +later, at her summons, the seneschal appeared. Subtly her face had +changed. No longer was she the desiring and desirous princess. +Instead, she was a grieving sister, whose brother's body still lay in +state in the royal palace. + +The seneschal, whose name was Prokliam, bowed obsequiously. He knew +that by custom the body of a royal Nadian floated down the River of +Ice in the company of two living servants--one man and one woman--who +would perish with him in the Place of the Dead. He knew also that he +had been Jlomec's favorite and now lived in constant fear that the +Princess Volna would decree that he, Prokliam, must accompany his dead +master on the Journey of No Return, to serve him in death as he had +served him in life. + +"Yes, lady?" the frightened Prokliam asked. + +"Bontarc, our king, grieves mightily for the dead prince," Volna said. + +"All Nadia grieves for Jlomec, lady," Prokliam said, and added +hastily: "Although I must admit I do not grieve more than the next +man. No, no, it is a mistake to think I was Jlomec's favorite." + +"Be that as it may Bontarc grieves so that for a while at least some +of the affairs of state will be in my hands." + +"I hear and understand lady." + +"Good. If anyone comes--anyone at all, whether wayfarers from Ofrid or +others--with news of how Jlomec died, they are to be brought at once +to me. Is that understood?" + +"Yes, my princess." Prokliam the seneschal bowed low once more. + +"Serve me well in this, Prokliam, and you will be rewarded in +measure." + +Prokliam smiled. "I will be the personification of discretion," he +said boldly, baring his toothless old gums. + +"Then perhaps I will still the rumors that you were the dead Jlomec's +favorite." + +Prokliam dropped at the royal feet and touched his lips to the royal +toes. Then he bowed out of the room. + +Volna stared for many moments at her beautiful face in the mirror. +Queen, she thought. She said it aloud: + +"Queen Volna." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +_The Journey of No Return_ + + +Earlier that day, on the ice fields half a dozen jeks from Nadia City, +B'ronth the Utalian had sprinted boldly across the snow toward the +girl and her elderly male companion. This had taken considerable +effort, because B'ronth the Utalian had not been endowed with an +abundance of courage. But B'ronth was a poor man, as Utalia was a poor +country; a bag of gold would be a veritable fortune to him. Like most +cowards, B'ronth had one passion which could over-ride his timidity: +that passion in B'ronth's case was wealth. + +The old man was fumbling clumsily for his whip-sword when B'ronth +hurtled at them. The girl screamed: + +"Look out, Father Hammeth! Look out!" + +B'ronth smiled. They would not see the smile, of course. B'ronth, a +chameleon man, was invisible. They would see his footprints in the +snow, true. They would know him for a Utalian and understand his +invisibility. But still the advantage of invisibility would be his. It +had always been so when a Utalian fought. It would always be so. + +B'ronth leaped upon the old man even as he prepared to strike out with +the whip-sword. B'ronth was both naked and unarmed. The sword lashed +whining at air a foot from his face. B'ronth wrenched its haft from +the old man's hand. Hammeth stumbled back. + +B'ronth swung the whip-sword. He was no duelist. A duelist would lunge +and thrust with the whip-sword, allowing its mobile point some degree +of freedom by controlling it deftly. A non-duelist like B'ronth would +hack and slash, the deadly sword-point whipping about, curling, +slashing, striking. + +Hammeth held up his hands to defend himself. The whip-sword whined in +the cold air. The girl screamed. Hammeth's right hand flew from his +arm and blood jetted from the stump. Hammeth sank to the ground and +lay there in a spreading pool of crimson. His eyes remained open. He +was staring with hatred at B'ronth. In a matter of minutes, B'ronth +knew, he would bleed to death. B'ronth turned on the girl. + +She stood before him swaying. She had almost swooned, but as B'ronth +approached her, she flung herself at him, crying Hammeth's name, and +they both fell down in the snow. B'ronth let the whip-sword fall from +his fingers. Half a bag of gold for a dead girl, but the whole bag if +she lived. She fought like a wild cat and for a few moments B'ronth +regretted dropping the weapon and actually feared for his life. But +soon, his courage returning and his whole being contemplating the bag +of gold, he subdued the girl. + +She lay back exhausted in the snow. "Please," she said. "Please bind +his arm. He'll bleed to death. Please." + +B'ronth said nothing. Ylia staggered to her feet, then collapsed and +crawled on her knees to Hammeth. The blood jetted from the stump of +his arm. He was watching her. A little smile touched the corners of +his mouth but pain made his eyes wild. + +B'ronth licked his lips. He had earned his bag of gold and, earning +it, thought of more wealth. He thought: _why should I accept one bag +of gold from a common Abarian soldier when there are millions of bags +of gold in Nadia City_? He could deliver the girl, who obviously knew +something the Abarians did not wish the Nadians to know, to Nadia +City. He could sell her to the Nadians. Or, if the Abarians outbid +them, then the Abarians.... + +Bruised, her cloak in tatters, Ylia reached Hammeth. His eyes blinked. +He smiled at her again, smiling this time with his whole face. Then he +turned his head away and his eyes remained open and staring. + +"You ... killed ... him," Ylia said, sobbing. + +B'ronth dragged her to her feet. "Lulukee!" he called. "Lulukee!" +Where was the boy? + +Lulukee did not answer. Cursing, B'ronth stripped the corpse and +dressed in its warm clothing. The blood on the right sleeve was +already stiff with cold. Where could Lulukee have gone off to? +wondered B'ronth. Well, no matter. They were only a few jeks from +Nadia City, where wealth awaited him.... + +"Come," he said. He dragged the girl along. She looked back at the +dead old man until a snow drift hid him from sight. + + * * * * * + +After the Utalian had dragged the beautiful girl beyond the ridges of +snow, Lulukee the Nadian came down into the valley. He was a small boy +of some sixty winters who, like many of the Nadians who did not come +from their country's single large city, had lived a hard life as an +ice-field nomad. He had seen an opportunity to profit in the service +of B'ronth the Utalian, but had not expected this service to include +murder. Thus when the Utalian had called him, expecting the boy to +drag his supply sled down into the snow-valley, Lulukee had remained +hidden. Now, though, he made his way to the body of the dead man and, +scavengerlike, went over it with the hope of turning a profit by +B'ronth's deed. + +In that he was disappointed. B'ronth had taken the dead man's snow +cloak and his whip-sword: there was nothing left for Lulukee's +gleaning. He was about to turn and trudge back the way he had come, +when he realized that if he did so, if he exposed himself on the +higher wind-ridges, B'ronth might see him. Therefore he remained a +long time with the frozen body of Father Hammeth, actually falling +into a light slumber while he waited. + +He awoke with a start. He blinked, then cowered away from the +apparition which confronted him. It was a man, but such a man as +Lulukee the Nadian had never seen before, a superbly muscled man a +head taller than the tall Abarians themselves. + +"Where's the girl?" the man demanded. + +"I--I don't know, lord." + +"How did this happen?" The man looked down with compassion at Father +Hammeth's corpse. + +"I only just arrived, l-lord." + +"You lie," the big man said. "You were sleeping here. You'll tell me, +or--" + +Lulukee blanched. He owed no loyalty to B'ronth the Utalian. If indeed +he remained loyal he might be implicated in the murder of the old man. +He said: "It was B'ronth the Utalian." + + * * * * * + +"Where is he?" + +"G-going to Nadia City, I think." + +"Alone?" + +"No, lord. With his prisoner. A--a lovely woman." + +"Ylia!" the giant cried. "You! How are you called?" + +"I am Lulukee of Nadia, lord." + +"Lead me to the city. Lead me after them." + +"But lord--" + +"Lead me." The giant did not shout. He did not menace of glower or +threaten. Yet there was something in his bearing which made it +impossible for the frightened Lulukee to do anything but obey. "Yes, +lord," he said. + +"Tell me--" as they started out, the boy's sled reluctantly left +behind--"is this B'ronth the Utalian in Retoc's pay?" + +"No, I don't think so. He works alone, lord. Reaping profit wherever +he can." + +"And he took the girl unwillingly?" + +"Yes, lord." + +"He won't profit in this venture," Bram vowed. + +The wind howled behind them. Six jeks ahead of them was Nadia City. + + * * * * * + +"Can't you see I'm busy? Can't you see I have no time for the likes of +you?" Prokliam the seneschal whined in self-pity. + +"Then make time," B'ronth said boldly, his cowardice obscured by +dreams of avarice. "What I have brought through the Ice Gates is +important to your ruler." + +"Bontarc of Nadia," said the seneschal haughtily, "does not waste his +time on every Utalian vagabond who reaches his court." + +"True. But I assume Bontarc of Nadia wishes to know exactly how his +brother, the Prince Jlomec, died?" + +Prokliam fought to keep his puckered old face impassive. But his mind +was racing and his heart throbbed painfully. Could the Utalian know +anything about that? If so, and if he, Prokliam, brought this B'ronth +before the Princess Volna as she had ordered.... + +"Wait here," Prokliam snapped arrogantly. "And keep your cloak on. We +don't want invisible Utalians floating about the palace." + +B'ronth offered a mock bow. Prokliam turned to go, then whirled about +again. "If you're lying, wasting my time--" + +B'ronth smiled unctuously. "In the ante-room, being amused by your +palace guards, is one who has been on the Plains of Ofrid quite +recently." + +"So?" + +"When the Prince Jlomec was there. She saw him slain." + +"Wait here," said Prokliam a little breathlessly. He pushed the +hanging aside and stalked down a corridor, and around a bend, and up a +flight of stone stairs. He was busy, all right. That had been no lie. +Preparations must be made for the funeral games of the Prince Jlomec, +to which all the nobility of Tarth had been invited. But this, +obviously, was more important. On this Prokliam's life might +depend.... + +"Are they checking way-passes, lord?" Lulukee asked the big, silent +man at his side. Ahead of them, filing slowly through the Ice Gates, +were hundreds of visitors entering Nadia City for the funeral games. A +flat-bottomed air-car hovered overhead, peltasts leaning over its +sides, ready. Guards flanked the Ice Gates with drawn whip-swords, as +if admitting the superiority of Abarian weapons of war. + +"We'll get through," Bram Forest vowed. "Tell me, Lulukee, if you +brought a prisoner to the city who might be worth much to the Abarians +but also to the Nadians, and if you were intent on getting the biggest +profit, where would you take her?" + +"If I had great courage, lord?" + +"If you dreamed of reward." + +"I would take her to the royal palace, lord, to Bontarc the King or to +his sister, Princess Volna the Beautiful, who, some say, is the real +power behind the Nadian throne although Bontarc is a great soldier." + + * * * * * + +They had reached the gate. "Way passes," a bored guard said. + +Lulukee mumbled something uncertainly. His heart beat painfully +against his ribs. His brain refused to function. There was intrigue +here, he could sense that. More intrigue than he cared to have a hand +in. As a Nadian citizen, he owned a way pass, of course. But the +giant? Obviously the giant did not. Lulukee was sorry he had ever +agreed to go along with B'ronth the Utalian. Now he only wanted to get +out of the entire situation as quickly--and safely--as possible. + +He pointed an accusing finger at Bram Forest. "_He_ has no way pass!" +Lulukee cried. + +The guards stiffened, their whip-swords ready. They looked at Bram +Forest. Overhead, the air-car hovered, its peltasts stationed there in +the event of trouble, their slings poised. + +Ylia was in there somewhere, a prisoner. Bram Forest spurned violence +for its own sake, but Ylia might need him. Ylia, who had nursed him +back to health when Retoc had left him for dead on the parched Plains +of Ofrid. Ylia, the lovely. + +"I'm going through," Bram Forest said softly. "Don't try to stop me." + +For answer, the nearest guard let his left hand drop. + +It had been a signal. Overhead, the peltasts drew back their slings. +"Will you go in peace?" the guard asked, his eyes narrow slits now, +his right arm tensed to bring the whip-sword around. + +Bram Forest waited. Every muscle in his superbly-conditioned body +cried for action, but he would not initiate it. + +The guard pointed back along the path across the ice fields, where +hundreds of visitors to the city were waiting impatiently. "Then go," +he said harshly, "before your flesh feeds the stilt-birds on the banks +of the River of Ice." + +The guard raised his sword menacingly. Standing rigidly still and +giving no warning, Bram Forest lashed out with his left fist, hitting +the guard in the mouth. Lips split, teeth flew, blood covered the +guard's face. Someone screamed. The guard fell, but his companion +lashed out with his own whip-sword. Bram Forest lunged to one side and +grabbed the sword-arm, twisting it. The guard howled, dropping his +weapon. Lulukee made a dive for it. But the guard, his legs still +free, kicked Lulukee in the face. As he fell, his senses blurring, +Lulukee wondered why he had made that desperate, foolish attempt to +help the big, silent man. He could not answer the question in mere +words. But there was something about him, something about Bram Forest, +which drew loyalty from you even as the sun drew dew from the +ground.... + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest lifted the second guard by sword-girdle and scruff of neck +and held him aloft. The guard's arms and legs flailed frantically. +"No!" he screamed up at the peltasts. "No...." + +But they had already unleashed their first volley of stones, pelting +the helpless guard until he lost consciousness. Bram Forest flung him +aside, leaped over the first fallen guard's supine body, and plunged +recklessly into the crowds milling just inside the Ice Gates. + +"He went that way!" a voice screamed. + +"That way!" + +"Over there!" + +"There he is!" + +It was an ancient city, with narrow, tortuous alleyways and +overhanging buildings and little-used passageways. The wide +streets--the few there were--mobbed with people. + +For all his size, the giant had disappeared. + +Lulukee picked himself up, dusted himself off, and showed his way pass +to the guard. The guard said nothing. He had lost three teeth and his +mouth was swollen, painful. Lulukee sensed that somehow the little he +had done to help Bram Forest was all he would ever do for him. Yet he +felt with a strange pride he did not fathom that although his role in +the saga of the mysterious giant had come to an end, it was the most +important event in his life and would remain so if he lived to be +six-hundred. He felt somehow--and could not explain why he felt +this--as if in his small way he had done something to make the world +Tarth a better place in which to live. + +Whistling, he pushed his way through the crowds and was lost to sight +just as the giant who went before him. + + * * * * * + +"B'ronth of Utalia!" Prokliam the seneschal proclaimed. Volna the +Beautiful nodded. The doddering old seneschal had already told her +about the Utalian. She was prepared to receive him now. If he knew +what he claimed to know, if he knew the true details of the death of +Prince Jlomec, then he must be silenced. Naturally, he wanted gold. +They always wanted gold. But gold was not the way to silence them. +Gold never worked. It only made them greedy for more. + +With Volna were, instead of her usual ladies in waiting, two discreet +palace guards. Grinning, she looked at their whip-swords. That was the +way to silence one such as B'ronth the Utalian. + +"He may enter," Volna told the seneschal. Prokliam bowed out, saying: + +"And Princess, you will not forget--" + +"No, Prokliam, I won't forget. You hardly knew the Prince Jlomec at +all, did you? You certainly couldn't have been his favorite." + +"Princess," breathed the seneschal tremulously as he withdrew. + +A moment later, B'ronth the Utalian entered the royal chamber. He wore +a snow-cloak. He was all but invisible except for the snow-cloak. He +was, eerily, a disembodied cloak floating through air. Although, +noticed Volna, if you looked closely you could see the faintest +suggestion of a man's head above the cloak, as if you saw the rich +wall tapestries of the room through a transparent, head-shaped glass. +Likewise, the suggestion of arms and legs.... + +"You are B'ronth?" An unnecessary question, but Volna had not yet made +up her mind what must be done. + +"Yes, majesty," the cloak said in a different but somehow unctuous +voice. + +"You are alone?" + +"No, majesty," said the cloak. + +"Then--?" + +"A girl. A wayfarer of the Plains of Ofrid. I accompany her." + +"And the story you have to tell?" + +"I realize, majesty, how the royal Princess must grieve at the loss of +her royal brother, the Prince. I realize...." + +"To the point, man. Get to the point. Are you trying to say you know +how Prince Jlomec was slain? You know who killed him?" + +"Yes," said the cloak boldly, eagerly. + +Princess Volna smiled. Perhaps something in that smile warned B'ronth +the Utalian. But of course, the warning came too late. In a quick +jerky motion, the cloak retreated toward the doorway. "Princess...." +B'ronth said. + +Princess Volna told her guards: "Kill him." + +B'ronth the Utalian had time for one brief scream which, if a sound +could, seemed to embody all his frustrated dreams of wealth. Then one +of the guards moved swiftly, his arm streaking out. The whip-sword in +his hand lashed, blurring, toward the cloak. Bright red blood welled, +jetted. + +B'ronth the Utalian's head, no longer invisible, rolled on the floor +at Volna's lovely feet. "Clean that up," she told one of the guards. +To the other she said: "Now fetch the girl." + + * * * * * + +"Mind, lord, I don't question you," Hultax the Abarian said. "But it's +just--" + +"Did you send the message?" Retoc cut him off. + +"As you ordered, sire. Yes." + +"Good." + +"Sire, I hate inactivity. I loathe it. I am a soldier." + +"As I am," said Retoc slowly, his hard cruel eyes staring at something +Hultax could not--and would never be able to--see. + +"So we just sit here in this rented house in Nadia City, cooling our +heels. It doesn't make sense, sire." + +"Sense?" mused Retoc. "What is sense? Is it victory and power for the +strongest? Well, is it?" + +"Yes, lord," Hultax responded. "But--" + +"And you sent the message? Our legions will come?" + +"Yes, lord. Two days hence they'll be encamped on the ice fields three +jeks march from the city gates. But I don't see--" + +"You obey, Hultax. I see. I do the seeing." + +"But I thought you ... the Princess Volna ... together...." + +"The Princess can serve me, now. If she can deliver Nadia without a +fight, then Tarth is mine, Hultax, don't you see? In two days all the +royal blood of all the royal families of Tarth will be assembled here +in Nadia for the funeral games. If Bontarc's army doesn't interfere, +then I will be master of Tarth." + +"But if Bontarc finds out--" + +"That, Hultax," said Retoc with a smile, "is why you sent the +message." + +"My sire," said the proud soldier Hultax humbly. + +Soon, thought Retoc, all Tarth would call him that. _My sire...._ + + * * * * * + +Ahead of Bram Forest loomed the ramparts of the palace. He must hurry. +He knew he had to hurry. He pushed impatiently through the crowd. +Several times men looked up angrily, and would have said something. +But when they saw his face, they turned away. + +What they saw in Bram Forest's face made them afraid. + +"Majesty?" Prokliam the seneschal said. + +"Well?" Volna demanded. "Didn't the guards send you for the girl?" + +"Majesty, I was thinking...." + +"Well, Prokliam, what is it? Didn't you go for the girl?" + +"Not yet, majesty, begging your pardon...." + +"If you have something to say, then say it. And get the girl." + +"Majesty, a seneschal knows the palace. It is his job...." + +"I warn you, Prokliam, I have little patience today." Her anxiety was +evident. + +"No one wishes to be chosen," Prokliam blurted quickly, boldly, "even +as I did not wish to be chosen to accompany the body of Prince Jlomec +on the Journey of No Return. Now that you have spared me, in your +royal benevolence, I thought I might in turn advise you...." + +"Yes, what is it, man?" + +"You should not have killed the Utalian, majesty. If it is ordained +that a living man and a living woman accompany the Prince's body to +the Place of the Dead, to die there with him, their spirits serving +him in death, why choose from among the palace staff? We all have +family, we all have friends, we all stand something to lose. But +majesty, if you were to break with tradition, if you were to send +instead two strangers whose loss meant nothing to the palace, the +palace staff would love and revere you even more than they already +do." + + * * * * * + +Volna's beautiful face smiled at him. He did not know what she was +thinking. He never knew. No one did. She might reward him or have him +slain on the spot. "Why do you tell me this, Prokliam?" she asked. + +"For saving me when it was thought I would accompany--" + +"No. There must be another reason." + +"If you do this deed and if the palace and the people love you for it, +and if the scepter of power should slip from Bontarc's hand to yours, +and if, when it came time to select your prime minister...." + +"Ha! Ha! Ha! We have an ambitious palace butler." + +"But surely you--" + +"Yes, Prokliam. I understand. I won't deny it. Perhaps I had the +Utalian slain impetuously. But there's still the girl." + +"I'll fetch her at once, majesty." + +"And if," mused Volna, no longer aware of the seneschal's presence, +"we could find another stranger, a man, to accompany the body of +Prince Jlomec on the Journey of No Return, not only the palace, but +the people as well would love me. A stranger...." + +"Take me to your King," Bram Forest told the palace guard. + +The guard smirked. "Do you think any stranger in the realm is granted +an audience with King Bontarc, fool?" + +"It is a matter of life and death." + +"But whose life and death?" demanded the guard, roaring with laughter. +"Yours, idiot?" + +"It is about Ylia the Wayfarer." + +"I know of no Ylia the Wayfarer. Begone, dolt!" + +"It is about Prince Jlomec." + +The guard's eyes narrowed. The word had been passed by no less a +person than Prokliam the seneschal that anyone with information +concerning the death of the royal Prince should be brought at once not +to Bontarc but to Princess Volna. Could the guard, could he, Porfis, +do less? + +"Very well," he said. "Come with me." + +Unarmed, but aware of his giant's strength and the mission which had +seen him spend the first hundred years of his life in a crypt on +Earth, Bram Forest went with the guard. + +The way was long, through chambers in which priceless tapestries +hung, through narrow, musty corridors into which the light of day +barely penetrated, through rooms in which ladies in waiting and +courtiers talked and joked, up bare stone stairs and through heavy +wooden doors which Porfis the guard opened with a key which hung at +his belt. The doors opened slowly. + +Bram Forest entered a large room. It was, he could see at a glance, a +woman's bower. Someone was standing at the far end of the room, in +shadow. He squinted. He took two slow steps into the room. He began to +run. + +"Ylia! Ylia!" he cried. + +Too late he saw the fetters binding her arms. Too late he saw her bite +savagely at something and twist her neck and spit the gag from her +mouth. Too late he heard her cry: + +"Bram! Bram Forest! Behind you!" + +He turned barely in time to see Porfis the guard, his whip-sword +raised overhead hilt-first. He lifted his arm, but it was swept aside +in the downward rush of the sword. Something exploded behind his eyes +and all eternity seemed to open beneath his feet. He plunged into +blackness with Ylia's name on his lips. + + * * * * * + +Unconscious, he was taken with Ylia through subterranean passages to +the Royal Dock on the River of Ice. The barge with Jlomec's embalmed +body waited. It was very cold on the river. The Place of the Dead +beckoned from the unseen end of the Journey of No Return. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +_Land Beyond the Stars_ + + +At first Retoc the Abarian was too stunned by what he witnessed to +think coherently. With the other Tarthians of royal blood he had +received an unexpected summons to appear at the Royal Dock on the +River of Ice and, before he could even try to fathom what it was +about, an escort of Nadian guards had come to fetch him. + +It was cold and murky on the banks of the River of Ice. The two men, +Retoc and Hultax had arrived barely in time to see them unfastening +the hawsers of the Royal Barge. Curious, he pushed closer through the +crowd of nobles. Suddenly, before the barge was quite unmoored, as it +swayed and rocked on the currents of the river, Nadian soldiers +appeared with a platform on poles slung across their shoulders, the +usual means of intra-city transportation for Nadian royalty. But this +was no royalty Retoc saw on the platform, although they were dressed +as royalty. + +The woman, conscious and bound hand and foot, was the Virgin of the +Wayfarers who had witnessed Prince Jlomec's death. The man, +unconscious, his head propped high on pillows, was the white giant who +once on the Plains of Ofrid had almost strangled Retoc. + +A hatred such as he had never known flashed through Retoc's brain. He +was so close he could see the gentle up-and-down motion of the giant's +chest as he breathed. Then, beyond the platform, he saw Volna. Volna +smiled at him. The platform bobbed by, was placed on the barge at the +foot of Jlomec's bier. The remaining hawsers were cut loose. + +There was, Retoc thought triumphantly, no return from the Place of the +Dead. + +But still, the white giant had recovered from what looked like certain +death once, had vanished abruptly and fantastically when he would have +died again. What was good enough for Volna the Beautiful was not +necessarily good enough for Retoc of Abaria. He watched only long +enough to see the royal barge pushed out into the icy currents of the +river, then he turned and made his way to the second tier of +observers, where Hultax stood among the lesser nobility and the +military officers of the planet Tarth. He found Hultax and whispered +for a time in his ear. + + * * * * * + +Hultax's face blanched. "But lord," he protested, "there is no return ... +it is obvious the man will die ... you couldn't expect me to...." Hultax, +frightened, confused, could neither think clearly nor express himself +properly. His mouth hung open. + +[Illustration: The boar charged while death and the Golden Ape stood +grinning.] + +"Earlier, Hultax," Retoc said with a hard smile, "you craved action. I +give you action. Take a boat. There are some moored down-river for the +use of Nadian priests on their religious pilgrimages to the banks +where the stilt-birds dwell. Overtake the royal barge. Board it. Slay +the man and the woman." + +"But I--the Place of the Dead...." + +"Fool!" hissed Retoc. "I didn't ask you to visit the Place of the +Dead. That's up to you. If you slay them first, on the River of Ice, +and can bring back proof ... but the longer we talk, the further they +are. You'll go?" + +It was phrased as a question; actually, it was a command. Grim-faced, +the whip-sword trailing at his side, Hultax left the crowd of soldiers +and made his way downstream. A few moments later he had poled a wooden +skiff out into the icy current and went down-river in pursuit of the +royal barge. + + * * * * * + +The guards had unbound Ylia's fetters on the barge, knowing she could +never swim for safety in the waters of the River of Ice. She sat now +at the foot of Jlomec's bier, with Bram Forest's handsome head +cushioned on her lap. It was very cold there on the river. Wind blew, +rustling the reeds which grew along the bank. They had long since +emerged from the river's underground cavern. The swift current carried +them now through a country of ice, a tundra. The reeds, twice as tall +as a man, seemed to thrive on the riverbanks. They swallowed +everything. + +Bram Forest opened his eyes, and looked at her, and smiled. He tried +to sit up, wincing as pain knifed through his head. "We seem to make a +habit of this," he said, smiling again. + +"Shh, you mustn't talk." + +She leaned close. He could smell the animal perfume of her body, like +musk and jasmine. Impulsively, she kissed him softly on the lips. His +arm went around her neck. He pulled her head down and drank deeply of +her. + +"Why ..." she began, all breathless. + +"Because I love you. I think I loved you the first moment I saw you. +But I didn't know it then." He laughed softly, gently, and she did not +know why this should be so. + +"Why do you laugh?" + +"I was an infant, the son of the Queen. Of Queen Evalla. Portox the +scientist fled with me, the last of the royal Ofridian blood, to the +other side of the solar system, to a world the twin of this, a world +we never see because the sun always stands between us, a world called +Earth. There I would wait until maturity. There I would be given the +strength and the wisdom I needed. And then I would return to Tarth and +right the ancient wrong. Well, I have returned. I love you. It is +enough, Ylia. I want to think of the future, not the past." + +Ylia let him kiss her again. "Isn't it the same, the future and the +past? Aren't they one? I too am of Ofridian blood, Bram Forest, of the +lesser nobility. There are hundreds of us, living nomadic lives on the +Ofridian Plains, where once our great nation stood." + +"I didn't know that. It wasn't in Portox's training. Now Portox is +dead. I buried him on this world called Earth. He could not even come +back to his native Tarth." + +"Darling, don't you see? That's exactly why the ancient wrong must be +righted, why Retoc must pay for his infamous deeds. So Portox and the +millions of other Ofridians, slain, all slain, can sleep eternally in +peace. You are their champion." + +"But revenge? What is revenge if--" + +"You are the champion of the future too! Don't you see, oh, don't you? +Of all the unborn tomorrows when the Ofridian nation may live again. +Of all the unborn tomorrows when the nations of Tarth can live +together in peace and harmony. Don't you understand that?" + +"It's funny. I try to see my mother's face. Queen Evalla. But all I +see is you. She's the past, Ylia. You're the future." He held her +lightly. + +"There is no future for anyone as long as Retoc the Abarian rules, and +dreams of Tarth, all Tarth, as his domain." + +Bram Forest stood up. The cold winds blew. He looked at the blue-cold +body of Jlomec, lying in state, at the ice-choked river, at the banks +of rustling reeds. He did not have to ask where they were. He knew. +"Perhaps," he said at last. "I only mean that if I do this thing it +will be more to see that future generations live in peace than to +bring vengeance on a power-mad Abarian." + +"Oh, Bram! That's what I wanted you to say. I wanted to hear you say +that. For tomorrow! For all our tomorrows." + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest walked to the rail of the barge, and gripped it, and +looked out over the ice-flows. He recited: + + "An ape, a boar, a stallion, + A land beyond the stars. + A Virgin's feast, a raging beast, + A prison without bars." + +"Why, what an unusual poem!" Ylia cried. Then: "Hold me close, it's so +cold. And I'm afraid, Bram Forest...." + +"Of the Place of the Dead?" + +"Yes, yes. The Place of the Dead." + +"It and the poem are entwined," Bram Forest said musingly. "I know +they are. Together, they're my destiny." + +"And the destiny of all Tarth?" + +"Perhaps. Portox liked to think so, I guess." + +"I like to think so, Bram Forest." She smiled up at him tremulously. +"And my destiny as well." + +"Ylia," he asked abruptly, "what do you know about the Golden Ape? You +mentioned it to me once, when you thought I ... well, when you thought +I endangered your virginity." + +"Why, nothing beyond what the legends say." + +"And what do the legends say?" + +"It is written in the most ancient of our religious beliefs that the +messenger to the Place of the Dead is a Golden Ape. Naturally, in +these same beliefs, a defiled virgin is supposed to kill herself. +Thus, in a way of speaking, she goes to the Golden Ape. You see?" + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest smiled down at her. "What would you think if I told you +the Golden Ape was real? If I told you that there actually was a Place +of the Dead?" + +"For the spirits of the departed?" Ylia asked in a very small voice. + +"No. Man can't presume to know about that. It's in the realm of the +gods. I mean a place which somehow borders on Tarth and yet ... yet is +beyond the stars. A place which, when wayfarers returned from it +miraculously long and long ago, gave rise to the legends." + +"Borders on Tarth ... yet beyond the stars? How can this be?" + +"Portox found it and explained it with his science," Bram Forest +insisted. "Earth and Tarth, twin worlds, yet so different, forever +unseen one by the other, on opposite sides of the sun. They're unique in +the solar system, Ylia. Portox thought--if the memory he planted in my +mind is correct--that they're unique in the entire universe. Somehow, a +million million years ago, a world split, becoming two worlds. But +ordinary space ... I don't know, the memory is confused ... could not +hold them. There is a warp of space, a place where space bends. Learn to +master the warp and you go instantly from Tarth to Earth, or back again. +That was the way Portox brought me, as an infant, to Earth." He held +aloft his arm, showing her the steel-silver disc. "With this I can +travel back and forth at will. Without it, either Earth or Tarth would +be my prison...." His voice trailed off. + +Then he blurted: "'A prison without bars!'" + +"What...." + +"The prophetic poem. Part of the poem. Anyway, Ylia, Earth and Tarth +exist at either end of this space warp, connected thus through normal +space where there should be no connection. And someplace along the +warp--where ordinary space-time distances don't matter...." + +"I'm sorry, Bram Forest. I don't understand you." + + * * * * * + +"I'm not sure I understand myself. Tarth is a primitive world. It is +beyond our science. It is even beyond the science of Earth, I believe, +and Earth is a millennium ahead of Tarth in its development. But +Portox knew. Anyhow, someplace along the warp--in ordinary distances +along the space-time continuum perhaps a billion light years distant +from either Earth or Tarth, is a third world. On the warp it is very +close. The River of Ice leads to it. We call it the Place of the +Dead." + +"But the Golden Ape--?" + +"--inhabits the so-called Place of the Dead. Their world was dying, +but Portox saved them. I think ... the science is beyond me ... the +entropy of their galaxy was running down ... their world perishing, +freezing ... when somehow with his great science Portox claimed for +their use the unavailable energy in their ... their thermodynamic +system, and saved them." + +"Why do you frown so?" + +"Words. Words only. I don't understand. I can only act." + +"You can act," Ylia said, hugging herself tight against him. "For +Tarth and the future." + +"For Tarth and the future," Bram Forest said, but he hardly heard the +words. + +Ahead of them in the cold clear air a wall seemed to rise. It came up +so suddenly, and, in fact, the air had cleared so suddenly from the +accustomed murkiness, that Ylia was afraid. "It is in the legend," she +whispered. "The Black Wall, Bram Forest. And beyond it--the Place of +the Dead." + +"More accurately, an edge-on view of the space-warp, where it meets +the normal world." But although he spoke the words of Portox, Bram +Forest did not sound too confident. + +"We're coming closer to it, Bram. Hold me!" + +He held her. There was nothing else he could do. The current swept the +barge on inexorably. The Black Wall reared ahead of them, frowned down +at them, seemed to block off all the rest of the universe and all +reality whether of Earth or of Tarth.... + +The barge penetrated the wall. Black and solid-seeming, solid as +stone, it yet offered no resistance. The barge disappeared within it. + +Behind the barge, rope-trailing so close that its prow almost scraped +the royal wood, was a skiff in which, shaking and afraid yet somehow +triumphant because he had heard Bram Forest's strange words, was +Hultax the Abarian. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +_The Golden Ape_ + + +Hultax the Abarian shook himself. He had lost consciousness as every +nerve-ending in his body had screamed with pain. Did this have +something to do with the warp--warping?--Bram Forest had mentioned. +Hultax the Abarian did not know. But he did know that he was alive, as +alive as anyone could be or had a right to be in the Place of the +Dead. And he did know, gratefully, that the intense cold of the River +of Ice was gone. + +He wondered how long he had been unconscious. He blinked his eyes. A +balmy, pink-tinted sky. A pink sun, not on the horizon, when indeed +the sun might be pink, but overhead. On the horizon--Hultax blinked +again and thought he was mad--a second sun, smaller, paler, the ghost +of green in color. + +The royal barge was in ruins. It had piled up on some rocks. The bier +of Jlomec, Prince of Nadia, had been thrown clear. He could see it on +the bank, also in ruins. He stood up unsteadily, then waded through +the shallow water in which he'd regained consciousness, over to the +wreck of the royal barge. The fingers of his right hand were poised +inches from the hilt of his whip-sword. Slay Bram Forest and the girl +if the wreck hadn't already killed them? He shook his head. Bram +Forest knew more about this strange place, this world of the pink sun +and the green sun, than he did. + + * * * * * + +He climbed over the wreckage, and finally came upon the two bodies. He +went down on his knees beside them. They were covered with blood. They +were broken--broken being the only word that could describe them. They +had been crushed, perhaps by falling timber, perhaps by the bier of +Jlomec as it hurtled over the side. There probably was not a bone in +either of their bodies, at least a major bone, which had not been +crushed. + +They were dead. + +With a craftiness which surprised even himself, Hultax remembered the +dead Bram Forest's words. It was the bracelet with the shining disc +which gave Bram Forest the power to appear and disappear at will, as +Retoc had described. Or, as Bram Forest had put it, to journey between +the worlds. Carefully, Hultax took the bracelet--it was miraculously +intact--from the crushed, broken arm of Bram Forest's corpse. He +circled his own arm with it and felt, or imagined he felt, an +instantaneous source of power surge through his body. Without looking +back at the broken bodies of the man and woman who had found love and, +finding it, died in each other's arms, he made his way from the river +bank across a pleasant green meadow. Far in the distance he saw a dark +blur which looked like a forest. It was many miles away, almost at the +limit of vision. + +Yet, incredibly, it seemed to rush up at him. It was not merely that +Hultax the Abarian walked with a warrior's long stride toward the +forest. It was as if the forest rushed toward him. A different world. +He remembered Bram Forest's words vaguely. A warped world? Something +like that. Naturally, Hultax was afraid. This was the Place of the +Dead, wasn't it? But still, Bram Forest's cool if little-understood +scientific explanation quieted his fear. Besides, didn't he have the +bracelet-disc-amulet? What could happen to him now? + +Bylanus the Golden Ape, only two-thousand seven hundred years old, +quite young as Golden Apes went, saw the wreck of the barge from a +great distance. He extended his vision through warp-space and spotted +the tiny figure of a man trudging away from the wreckage. Bylanus +squinted, and shifted his buttocks on the saddle. Bylanus was fifteen +feet tall and weighed eight-hundred pounds. The steed he rode, about +twice the size of an Earth elephant, looked like a blown-up cross +between a Tarthian stad and an Earth horse. + +Bylanus stared, then sat up very straight in his stirrups. Something +gleamed on the man's arm. Bylanus gaped. + +It was the bracelet of Portox-saviour. + +Bylanus used his will to psychokinesthize the man. The man, still +apparently trudging along, sped toward him. + +Bylanus climbed down from his stallion and prepared to bow, all +fifteen feet and eight hundred pounds of him, before the man. + +At first Hultax could think only of fleeing. Abruptly before him stood +a monster-stad and a man. No, not a man. A man-like figure pelted with +soft, smooth, lusterous, golden fur. The stad--the not-quite-stad--was +five times bigger than a stad had a right to be. The man, even as he +unexpectedly bent before Hultax, was almost three times Hultax's +height. Man? No, not a man. Hultax, rooted with fear to the spot, +unable to run, opened his mouth to cry out. But his vocal chords were +paralyzed. + + * * * * * + +This was no man. It was the Golden Ape of legend, the Golden Ape of +the Place of the Dead.... + +"Portox-saviour," said the Golden Ape quite distinctly. Then he +pointed a forefinger almost the size of Hultax' forearm at the +bracelet Hultax wore. + +Hultax took a deep breath and could feel the strength returning to his +legs. Like all military officers, he was an opportunist. He had to be, +for in battle one had to seize upon opportunity as soon as it +appeared, if one were to win at all.... + +Hultax said, his voice surprisingly steady: "You may rise." + +The Ape did so. The stallion pawed the ground, and great clods flew. +Hultax was trembling, but the Ape, speaking in Hultax' own language, +in the language of all Tarth, said: "Are you really from Portox? It +seems like only yesterday he was here although, of course, your people +and mine measure time differently." + +"I am from Portox," Hultax said. He wished he could keep his knees +from trembling. + +"Portox-saviour said that one day a man would come, to ask us for help +even as Portox helped us in our time of troubles," the Ape proclaimed. + +"Yes," Hultax muttered. + +"What kind of help do you wish?" + +Hultax stared, saying nothing. He did not know what to say. He lacked +the imagination to make something up. Somehow, he knew it was terribly +important. He knew without knowing how he knew that his life might +depend on his answer. + +"Well?" the Golden Ape asked gently. + +"I ... that is...." + +The Ape's eyes narrowed as he looked down at Hultax. "You _are_ from +Portox?" + +"Yes, yes. Of course." + +"I see you have the bracelet." + +"Yes, here is the bracelet." + +"And the cloak of Portox?" demanded the Ape. "The cloak Portox +foretold you would wear?" + +"I--I lost the cloak in my journey," lied Hultax, not knowing about +any cloak. There, he thought, that ought to satisfy him. + +But the Ape said: "There was no cloak." + +"No cloak? No cloak!" + +"I made that up, to test you. You're not from Portox." + +The stallion pawed the ground and looked up and then down at Hultax, +snorting. Hultax, trembling, wished he could melt into the ground. + + * * * * * + +"Still," Hultax said, shaking, "I am from Portox. You tried to trick +me. You...." + +"We shall see," the Ape said, still pleasantly. "Come." + +The ground rolled, or so it seemed to Hultax. The forest loomed ahead +of him, then trees were all around him, then they stood on a rolling +plain again. + +"Where--did you take me?" + +The Ape smiled. He seemed quite human despite his size, despite his +fur. The stallion pawed the ground impatiently. + +"Behold," said the Ape. + +Something on the fringe of the forest screamed. It was an awful sound +and it made the hackles stand upright on Hultax's bull-neck. He drew +his whip-sword and faced the forest. + +"Well, man," chided the Golden Ape, "and do you need a weapon? Portox +told us we would know his man because his man, unarmed, would be able +to conquer the wild boar of the Kranuian Wood. And you?" + +The screaming came again. Terrified, Hultax did not fling his weapon +aside. Wild boar? What wild boar ... time enough later ... to convince +the Ape.... + +The boar emerged. It was almost as big as a man and covered with dirty +gray hair. Its tusks were two feet long. The stallion whinnied but +remained perfectly still. The Golden Ape waited and watched. The boar +charged. + +Hultax's right arm blurred and the mobile blade of the whip-sword +whizzed through air and struck the boar's meaty shoulder. The boar +screamed, and came on. + +It was, Hultax realized in despair, only a superficial wound. The boar +came on, bleeding, furious. He tried to lunge aside. He yanked at the +whip-sword and it came loose, making him lose his balance. The boar +reached him, screaming. + +Never slackening its pace, the boar gored him, and wheeled about, +clods flying, to gore again. Hultax' voice bubbled in his throat. The +boar was on him again, its tusks sharp as razors.... + +Finally it stood clear, nervously eyeing Bylanus and the stallion. +Then it turned and, slowly, with great dignity, retreated into the +Kranuian Wood, which was its home. + +The man, Bylanus saw at a glance, was dead. As an imposter, he had +deserved to die. Bylanus quickly dug a shallow grave with a large, +sharp-edged stone, and rolled the body in. As he did so he noticed +that the bracelet--the bracelet of Portox-saviour, or, more probably, +a copy of that bracelet intended to trick him--had been battered, +punctured, and broken by the boar. Even if it had been the real +bracelet, the amazing steel-silver disc of Portox-saviour, it would +now be useless. Sighing, Bylanus buried it with Hultax' body. + + * * * * * + +Bylanus mounted his steed and galloped toward the river. He could have +psychokinesthized himself there, but the day was brilliant and clear, +and he was in no great hurry. At last he reached the wreck of the +royal barge of Nadia. He did not pause to examine Jlomec's bier, he +had seen such funerary devices before. + +Something in the wreck itself confused him. There was a man. There was +a woman. That fit the ritual--two servants to accompany dead royalty +on its way. This was the custom of the Nadians. But the man.... + +On the man's crushed arm, the arm completely covered with blood, was a +mark. It was as if something--say, a band of metal--had protected the +arm at one point. For circling the upper arm was a band of skin not +bloody like the rest, wide in the shape of a disc, then narrow all +around. + +The bracelet of Portox-saviour! thought Bylanus. Had this dead man +worn it? Had the imposter, now slain by the wild boar, taken it from +him? + +_Oh Portox-saviour, Portox-saviour, how long dead? Am I too late, is +it too late for this man, your heir...?_ + +As gently as he could, the huge Bylanus lifted the two bodies and put +them in his saddle-bags. He faced the Kranuian Wood astride. The +stallion held its head up, alert, ready. They psychokinesthized. + +And disappeared in a twinkling with Bram Forest and Ylia, both of whom +were dead. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +_The Raging Beast_ + + +Although once mighty Ofridia of Tarth and certainly the nations of +Earth had outstripped Bylanus' world in the physical science, the +planet of the pink and green suns was supreme in biology. Thus had it +needed Portox' help, a hundred Earth-Tarthian years before, when +run-down entropy threatened its very existence. On the other hand, +through biology, the science of Bylanus' world had come a long way in +the conquest of death and destroyed human tissue. So it was that with +some faint ray of confidence Bylanus brought the two broken bodies to +the single large city of his park-like planet. There, tenderly, he +left them in the care of specialists at the regeneration station, and +began his long vigil. + +... sensation and movement. + +Hardly anything at first. Bram Forest dreamed of dreaming. The motion +was gentle, warm, comfortable. + +The glow of life and not the cold breath of death.... + +With it, with the first stirrings of regeneration, came the shadow of +pain. But it was far away and almost impalpable, pain understood +rather than felt. And slowly the pain departed. There came a time when +Bram Forest realized he was not breathing, was, indeed, immersed in +liquid. + +He floated, helpless, serene, strangely content. + +... Until, with the first signs of impatience, strength flooded +through his regenerated limbs. + + * * * * * + +"In every cell of a living creature's body," Orro the bio-technician +explained to Bylanus, "there is the potential for complete and perfect +regeneration. For, whereas the eye is an organ to see with, in every +one of the millions of tiny cells making up the eye is the +gene-pattern not merely for the eye but for the rest of the body. +Theoretically then, Bylanus, if we are given but a single intact cell +of a living--or once-living--organism, we ought to be able to +reproduce the organism in its entirety. This is not supernatural. It +is not creation of life: we can create nothing. The secret of creation +is not ours here at this laboratory. But we have mastered the secret +of recreation. Nurtured by the life-giving fluid, their development +controlled by their own genes, the two human beings you brought are +being made whole again." + +Bylanus nodded. Orro the bio-technician was loquacious and spoke +quickly, confidently, with mild pedantic enthusiasm. As for Bylanus, +he awaited the regeneration of the man who had worn Portox-saviour's +bracelet. He looked at the bodies in the vat, hanging upside-down, +floating head down, rocking gently in the warm, circulating +life-fluid. He waited.... + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest took his first breath. The first thing he said was: "Ylia, +Ylia...." + +Bylanus met them after the vat had been drained and a door had opened +for them. He told them what had happened, including the death of +Hultax. Then he added: + +"As far as I am concerned, there can be no doubt as to your identity. +But the bracelet is lost forever and there will be some who doubt your +identity." Abruptly, he seemed to change the subject: "How do you +feel?" + +"Good as new," Bram Forest said. He was naked. He was tingling with +health and well-being, as if he'd awakened from a long, health-giving +sleep. He looked at Ylia, her skin glowing, her hair gleaming, her +glorious body a shining promise. Then he frowned. Bylanus' words took +meaning. "You want me to fight the Boar of the Kranuian Wood, is that +it?" + +"Yes," Bylanus said. + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest shrugged. "Coming here was not my idea, although Portox +somehow realized it would be so." + +"Slay the Kranuian Boar, proving your identity without question, and +all the Golden Apes will be yours to command." + +"Yes, but did Portox really feel I must wreak upon Abaria and the +Abarians the same destruction they brought to Ofridia? If I destroy +Retoc the Abarian responsible for what happened a hundred years ago, +wouldn't that be enough? I don't need the Golden Apes for that. I can +do it myself. I must do it myself." + +"Tarth," said Bylanus, "is a world of warring nations. But here on the +planet of two suns we live in peace. We are strong but know not the +meaning of war. Is that what Portox-saviour wished for your people?" + +"Perhaps," Bram Forest said. + +"Then," Ylia told him, speaking for the first time, "even if you slay +Retoc, his legions will not willingly give up their arms." + +Bram Forest nodded slowly. The idea of a Tarth-wide holocaust did not +appeal to him, but if all Tarth could be shown the folly of war when +its most powerful army went down to defeat before the Golden Apes.... + +"Thank you," Bram Forest said humbly to the Golden Ape. He had a +vision--almost mystical--of a time in the future, perhaps the near +future, when all Tarth knew nothing but the ways of peace. "When we +return on the River of Ice we want you to accompany us. I'm ready to +meet your boar." + +Ylia held him. Tears glistened in her eyes. "Bram Forest," she said +tremulously. "Now that I've found you, I don't want you to be +hurt--ever again." + +Bram Forest responded: "Don't worry, Ylia. If Portox hadn't known I'd +be more than a match for the boar, he never would have established its +conquest as proof of my identity." + +"But ... but don't you see, you've been regenerated, as Bylanus said. +You may not be as strong as you were." + +Bram Forest looked at Bylanus, who shrugged. Bylanus lifted them when +Bram Forest nodded. The park-like terrain flashed by. A dark forest +loomed. The Kranuian Wood.... + +Close at hand, an animal screamed. + + * * * * * + +"How do I look, Prokliam?" Volna asked her seneschal. + +He bowed before her. "You are lovely, O My Queen." + +Volna smiled. She wore the royal purple of Nadia in a gown which fell, +clinging as if sentient and voluptuous, to the wonderful curves of her +body. "I'm not your Queen yet," she said, laughing. + +"A mere formality, My Queen." + +"I am Volna, Virgin Princess of Nadia, sister to Bontarc the King." + +"Huh!" snorted the old man. "That is your official title. But what do +titles matter? When this day ends you will rule all Tarth side by side +with Retoc the Abarian." + +Yes, Volna thought. With Retoc the Abarian. But how long would _that_ +alliance last? Would either of them be content to share power with the +other? Wouldn't there come a day when she would give the nod to +Prokliam and the legions would march against those of Abaria chanting, +"All power to Volna! All power to Volna the Beautiful!" The thought of +power, power over strong men, over leaders of nations, made her giddy +with desire. + +All the royal blood of Tarth was gathered in Nadia City now, for the +funeral games. She knew Retoc's plan: her spies had confirmed it. +Retoc's legions would slay the rulers of the multiple nations and +clans of Tarth and one by one, stunned, leaderless, the small nations +would flock to the banners of Abaria and Nadia. If, then, Retoc had in +mind to betray her and claim all power for himself, her own legions +would be rested and ready. And Bontarc? she thought. What of Bontarc, +her brother? + +As if he could read her thoughts, Prokliam said, "I have arranged the +lists for the dueling which will end the games, majesty. Bontarc, as +you know, expects a duel to the first blood with some competent +whip-swordsman." Prokliam licked his thin, dry lips. "He will be +confronted, instead by a duel to the death with Retoc, the best +swordsman of all Tarth. To flee would mean cowardice. The army would +then be loyal to you, majesty. To remain and fight would mean only one +thing." + +"Death," said Volna softly. + +She could hear the legions. The legions seemed to chant in her ears: +"All power to Volna the Beautiful!" + +She thought of the day's funeral games. Games for the memory of Jlomec +the Prince, indeed. They were games for her, for Volna. They would be +a party celebrating the rise to power of Volna, Virgin Princess of +Nadia. But of course neither Nadia nor Bontarc its rightful ruler knew +that yet. And when they did, Retoc and his legions would make sure +they could do nothing about it. + +The Games would be a feast. Volna's feast.... + +_All power to Volna._ + + * * * * * + +The Kranuian Boar came screaming from the forest. + +Its small, close-set eyes found Bram at once. If it had seen Bylanus +and Ylia, it ignored them. Four hundred pounds of muscle and sinew, it +made, stomping and pawing, for Bram. + +He side-stepped nimbly, saw the massive head go down, felt one of the +wicked tusks brush his thigh with fire. He stumbled and almost fell. +If he fell, he would not rise again. The boar would finish him first. + +"Bram Forest!" Ylia screamed. + +He got up and grasped the tusks. He was dragged along, furrowing the +ground. The huge head snorted close to his own. The boar's breath +almost made him gag. Then, before the boar could smash him into a +tree-trunk, he let go and rolled over and over and quickly stood up. + +The boar did not wait for him to regain his breath, but came charging +at once. This time Bram Forest waited until the last possible instant +before the tusks would impale him. Then he leaped, twisting around in +air. It was a prodigious leap and brought a word of exclamation even +to Bylanus' lips. He landed on the hard-muscled back of the boar and +at once clamped his knees firmly against its sinewy flanks as if he +had been trained all his life for this job. + +The boar reared and bucked and swung its great body from side to side, +trying to dislodge its tormentor. But Bram Forest clung as if all +Tarth depended on the outcome of this contest--as, perhaps, it did. + +The boar ducked its head. Bram Forest fell forward, but his knees +locked. The boar rolled over, but moving so swiftly that the eye could +hardly follow him, Bram Forest squirmed out from under and was seated +astride again when the boar got to its feet. + +Then, leaning forward, Bram Forest grasped the two tusks and began to +pull the boar's head up and back toward him. + +The animal's screaming became squealing. Slowly the head went back, +the short, almost non-existent neck strained, the beady eyes darted. + +Then there was a loud snapping sound and the boar squealed once and +fell over on its side with a broken neck. + +Bram Forest, panting, the muscles of his legs quivering, stood clear. +Bylanus touched his great golden head to the ground. Ylia ran to Bram +Forest and flung her arms about his neck. "I was afraid," she said. "I +was so afraid you would be hurt." + +Bram Forest kissed her. She clung to him, sobbing his name when their +lips parted. Finally Bram Forest disengaged himself and said: + +"The poem, Ylia. We've seen an ape, a boar, a stallion. This world is +the 'land beyond the stars.' But was the boar also the raging beast?" + +Ylia shrugged. Bylanus stood up and told Bram Forest, "The Golden Apes +are ready to serve you in any way you wish." + +Three worlds, Bram Forest thought. One which Portox had saved from +doom, one which had been the haven in which Bram Forest had grown to +manhood, and one in which all their destinies soon would be written. + +"Then Tarth thanks you," Bram Forest told the Golden Ape Bylanus. +"Assemble your fighters. We're going back up the River of Ice." + +"To Nadia City?" Ylia asked. + +Bram Forest nodded grimly. "To Nadia City--and Retoc." + + * * * * * + +Bontarc, King of Nadia, asked his royal guest, "You like the Games so +far?" + +They sat, with Princess Volna, in the box of honor at the Amphitheater +of Nadia. "Aye, I like them," Retoc said slowly. "But sire, I would +like them much better if they were not to commemorate the passing of +your noble brother, the Prince Jlomec." + +Bontarc nodded his head in gratitude. "That was well-spoken, Retoc," +he said. + +Retoc went on: "Have you any idea who killed him so treacherously? +Jlomec was not a fighting man." + +"None," Bontarc admitted. He missed entirely the smile which passed +between Retoc and Princess Volna. + +"Well," Bontarc said after a while, "if you will excuse me, I must go +down below to prepare for the dueling. Under the circumstances I'm +hardly inclined to participate in the Games, but my people expect it +of me." + +"Yes, brother," Volna said softly. "They do. Oh, they do." + +And Bontarc went. Retoc looked at Volna. "I'd best get ready myself," +he said. Volna nodded her lovely head. + +A blood-lusting animal cry welled up from a hundred thousand throats +as the gladiators of Nadia marched out across the sands of the +amphitheater to do battle with the fierce snow-sloths of the Plains of +Ice. + +While several jeks from the Gates of Ice, Retoc's legions waited.... + + * * * * * + +"Wait here," Bram Forest told Bylanus, who had led them safely, along +with the vanguard of the Golden Apes, back up the River of Ice. + +"What will you do, Bram Forest?" + +"According to Ylia, we can trust Bontarc of Nadia. He's a fighting +man, but he craves peace for all Tarth." + +"I'm sure of it," Ylia said. "Bontarc didn't send us to the Place of +the Dead. Princess Volna did. And long ago, according to the stories +the Wayfarers of Ofrid tell, Bontarc and your mother, Queen Evalla, +were allies striving to establish universal peace throughout Tarth. +Besides, despite his civility and fairness, Bontarc losses no love on +Retoc of Abaria." + +"And if you need us?" Bylanus asked. + +"We'll get a signal through to you," Bram Forest said. With Ylia he +climbed into a skiff and poled it out into the river. + +Now the riverbanks were deserted, except for the solitary stilt-birds, +tall as men, wading out into the frigid water, their low-pitched calls +all but swallowed by the sound the cold wind made rustling through the +river rushes. + +After a while the skiff came to a bend in the river. It was the last +turn before the Gates of Ice--and Nadia City. Here the wind blew more +strongly, and there was a section of rushes which had been cleared, +cut probably by an Ice Fields nomad who had used the tall rushes as +fuel. + +"Look!" Ylia cried suddenly, startled. + +Through the gap in the rushes, at a distance of two or three jeks +across the flat plain from the river, Bram Forest saw an armed +encampment. There were tents with flying standards, tethered stads, +pyramids of stacked spears like hayricks, and pacing sentries. + +"What can it mean?" Ylia asked. "Those standards are Abarian." + +"Retoc," Bram Forest said. He lifted the pole and felt the mud of the +river-bottom cling to it before it came clear. He allowed the skiff to +drift toward the bank. "Retoc's planning treachery. We'll have to go +back and alert the Golden Apes. Bylanus and his Apes can destroy +Retoc's legions before they even march on Nadia City." + +"But we can't go back, Bram. If Retoc's army is here, ready, then +what's happening in Nadia City? Who can say what Retoc is doing? +You'll have to go ahead and stop him--or at least delay him. I'll go +back for Bylanus." + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest shook his head. "I can't let you go alone, Ylia. Not with +the Abarian legions so close." + +"But I must, don't you see?" + +Bram Forest frowned. There did not seem any other way, but he was +reluctant. "I love you, Ylia. I couldn't let--" + +"What happens in Nadia City today is more important than our love, +Bram Forest! What would our love mean if Retoc the Abarian ruled all +Tarth?" + +"Then you take the skiff," Bram Forest said finally. "I can make my +way to the city along the bank." + +"No. The army is still encamped. They won't do anything for some time +yet. See? All their tents are still standing." + +That was true enough. "Besides," Ylia went on, "we don't know what +Retoc is planning in the city. You can reach it faster by skiff. I'll +go back for Bylanus on foot." + +The logic of what Ylia said could not be refuted. With sinking heart +Bram Forest helped her from the skiff. He kissed her quickly. "I love +you, Ylia," he said. + +"And I love you, Bram Forest." + +"Be careful. Keep hidden in the rushes. Tell Bylanus to use his +judgment in attacking or waiting for Retoc's legions to make the first +move." + +Ylia's pretty head nodded. Then she ducked into the rushes and was +gone. Bram Forest looked after her until the rustling in the rushes +stopped, then he poled the skiff once more out into the center of the +river and sped swiftly toward the Gates of Ice. + +No one stopped him. No guards were posted. He beached the skiff and +sprinted through the gates and through the city and up its biggest +hill toward the amphitheater. Then, only a jek's distance away, he +heard the crowd at the funeral games. They roared suddenly in a frenzy +of excitement and another part of Portox's poem slipped into place. +The crowd watching the games in Nadia City was the raging beast, +blood-lusting, expectant, animal-savage, whipped into a fever of +goggle-eyed enthusiasm and ready to move, _en-masse_, in whatever +direction a strong leader might push them. + +A strong leader.... + +Retoc? Or Bram Forest? Which one? + + * * * * * + +Pirum the Abarian shifted his weight uncomfortably, leaning down on +the haft of his spear. The whole idea of posting pickets along the +bank of the river seemed unnecessary to him. They could not actually +see the river through the rushes, and they dared not go closer for +fear of being spotted by whatever traffic moved on the icy waters. +Then what was the point of them standing here, half-frozen with the +cold, waiting for an assailant who would never come? + +And while he was thinking thus, the girl virtually walked into Pirum's +arms. At first he heard a faint rustling in the rushes and, before he +could investigate, the tallest of the dry plants had parted and a +lovely bronze-skinned girl appeared. She turned to run, but Pirum +caught her in his muscular arms and held her despite her struggles. + +She bit his arm and, with an oath, he caught her hair and twisted her +head back. "Who are you?" he said. "Who are you, eh?" + +The girl glowered at him. + +Pirum dragged her along. She continued to struggle. Shaking his head, +he hit her on the jaw with his fist and caught her before she could +fall. Then, swinging her up over his broad shoulder, he stalked +through the rushes toward Nadia City. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +_The Prison Without Bars_ + + +No one tried to stop Bram Forest until he reached the very gates of +the amphitheater. But there a guard with drawn whip-sword barred the +way and demanded: "You don't look Nadian to me. What delegation are +you with, man?" + +Bram Forest had no time to parry words with words. He tried to push +his way past the guard who, too surprised to thrust with his weapon, +used his free hand to grab Bram Forest by the shoulder and spin him +around. Bram Forest drove his left fist into the guard's belly and +heard the whoosh of air escaping from his lungs. + +That was the last thing he heard for some time. A second guard crept +up quietly behind him and struck expertly with the hilt of his +whip-sword just behind the left ear. Bram Forest fell as if the ground +dropped out from under him. + +"By all the fiery gods of Tarth, will you look at that!" the first +guard exclaimed. + +The second guard could only gawk, not comprehending. + +The unconscious man was growing tenuous. + +The first guard in confused alarm, lashed down with the whip-sword. +But its point passed through Bram Forest's now transparent body +without meeting any resistance. + +"Right through him! Right through him!" cried the guard. + +And, by the time he said it, and coiled his sword again, Bram Forest +had vanished. + + * * * * * + +When an urgent message had come for Retoc, the Princess Volna, alone +in the royal box, had decided to investigate the matter herself. She +had to hurry, though. In not many minutes, Retoc and Bontarc would +find themselves face to face on the sands of the amphitheater. +Wouldn't Bontarc be surprised! Too proud to flee, not swordsman enough +to match the mighty Retoc.... + +"Yes, yes, what is it?" she snapped irritably when she entered the +dungeon-like ready-room below the amphitheater sands. She was in a +hurry to return to her box, lest she miss the duel between Bontarc and +Retoc. Alone in the ready-room was a soldier in the uniform of Abaria. + +"Begging your pardon, ma'am," said the soldier. "My message is for +Retoc of Abaria." + +"And I tell you Retoc of Abaria is not here to receive it." Volna +clapped her hands and two of her own guards appeared. "I am the +Princess Volna. Well?" + +Pirum looked at her, at the armed guards flanking her on either side, +at the door through which she had entered, at the ready-room's second +door. "Very well," he said at last, and opened the second door, +beckoning. + +Volna went to the doorway and looked. She gasped involuntarily, hardly +able to believe her eyes. There on the stone floor of a smaller +ready-room, only now regaining consciousness, was the Virgin Wayfarer +of Ofrid, she who had seen Retoc slay Jlomec, she who had been sent by +Volna herself to sure death on the Journey of No Return. Terror +gripped her. + +"What does this mean?" Volna cried. "Where did you find her? Where, +man? Speak!" + +"On the river, ladyship." + +"On the river? Returning from the Place of the Dead?" + +"No, ladyship. Heading toward the Place of the Dead." + +Volna went to the girl and stood over her. "You! What's your name?" + +"Ylia," the girl said. + +"What were you trying to do, Ylia?" + +The girl said nothing. + +Volna called to Pirum, who came at once. "Hit her," Volna said. + +Grasping Ylia by her hair, Pirum struck her face with his open hand. +Her head snapped back. The mark of his fingers was on her face. She +said nothing. + +"Hit her again," Volna said. + +Pirum struck Ylia a second time. The girl whimpered, but held her +tongue. "Where is your friend, that giant of a man?" Volna asked. + +Again Pirum hit Ylia when she would say nothing. Finally Volna +shrugged. "She'll talk, given enough of that. What's _your_ name, +man?" + +"Pirum, ladyship." + +"Very well, Pirum. My guards and I are returning to our seats. There +is a duel I wouldn't want to miss. All Tarth will reap its +consequences. Meanwhile, stay with this girl and do what you must do +to make her talk. It might be important." + +Pirum bowed. "Yes, ladyship," he said, and watched the others depart. +Then, when they were alone, Ylia surprised him by flying at him, nails +bared, like a wildcat. He fought off her attack and struck her a +savage open-handed blow, and she fell back. At least this, Pirum +thought advancing on her, might be an interesting assignment. + + * * * * * + +"... hit by that cab, mac." + +"You all right?" + +"He's getting up, ain't he?" + +"Jeez, I swear," the sweating taxi driver said to the crowd which had +gathered about the prostrate man, "he popped up outa nowhere. One +second I'm driving along, looking for a fare, the next, he's standing +right in front of me. I almost pushed the brake through the floor, +honest, but--" + +"Ylia," the stricken man said. + +"Hey now, take it easy." + +"What he say, anyhow?" + +"... be going to a costume ball or something. Lookit that outfit he's +wearing, willya? What's he supposed to be, a man from Mars or +something? I read in the papers where Mars was pretty close a while +back. My kid thinks there are...." + +"Aw, shudap about your kid." + +"Need any help, mister?" + +"No. No, thank you. I'm all right." + +"... got a nasty crack on his head, is all. See? See the blood?" + +"He's getting up." + +"... a cop. When you don't want 'em, they're around. Now you need +them, where in heck are they, that's what I wanna know." + +"The bracelet!" the stricken man said in sudden alarm. He stared at +his own right arm in confusion, then his left. His arms were bare. + +"You wasn't wearing no bracelet, mac," someone said. + +"No bracelet," he said. "No bracelet." His eyes looked vague, +confused. + +After a while a policeman came and took in the situation at a glance. +"All right, all right," he bawled. "Step back and givemair, givemair, +will you?" + +The crowd dispersed slowly, and the policeman talked for a while with +the taxi-driver, then with the stricken man. + +"My name?" the stricken man said in answer to a question. "Bram +Forest. Yes, Bram Forest. But I don't have the bracelet. The bracelet +is gone, forever. Without the bracelet I can't...." his voice trailed +off. + +"He drunk?" the policeman asked the cab driver. + +"Search me." + +"'A prison without bars,'" the man recited. "Earth is my prison, +forever. Ylia. Ylia!" + +The driver made a circular motion with his forefinger, in the general +vicinity of his temple. + +"You both better come down the station house with me," the policeman +said. + +"Aw, officer, I'll lose some fares." + +"Anyhow. The guy talks batty, but he don't look drunk. We got to +figure this here out." + +"Ylia," the man said, almost as if the sound were a name and he was +crying out to the owner of that name across an unthinkable abyss. + + * * * * * + +Bontarc, King of Nadia, felt as good as could be expected under the +circumstances. Now that the first shock of bereavement had passed, he +knew no mourning would bring back his dead brother Jlomec. And the sun +of Tarth was hot on the amphitheater sands as Bontarc stood awaiting +his as yet unknown adversary. He flexed and uncoiled his whip-sword, +smiling in expectancy. He was a competent swordsman, among the dozen +or so best in Nadia. The duel-to-first-blood would be just what he +needed. Win or lose, he'd feel a lot better afterwards. And meanwhile, +he was a king, wasn't he? The adulation of the crowd swept down all +around him, lifting his spirits. The corpse of Prince Jlomec, +treacherously slain, seemed very far away--as, indeed, it was.... + +A roar of expectancy went up from a hundred thousand throats as +Bontarc's adversary appeared at the other end of the arena. The sun +was dazzling. At first Bontarc saw the swordsman only as a dot across +the gleaming sands. But now the roar of expectancy had turned to a +groan of dismay, which was followed by a silence, as of death, then an +eager whispered buzzing. Why should this be? Why.... + +The figure came closer on the burning sands. Bontarc squinted. Was it +possible? He felt a tremor go through his body. + +It was Retoc of Abaria! + +"To the death, Bontarc," Retoc said softly, savagely, as they +approached. + +Bontarc shook his head imperceptibly. He was no coward, but knew he +was no match for Retoc and didn't see why he should lay down his life +on the amphitheater sands. "I'll not fight you to the death, Retoc of +Abaria," he said. + +Retoc shrugged as if it weren't very important. "Well," he said +slowly, "if you don't want to kill the slayer of your brother...." + +Bontarc charged. + +Laughing, Retoc was ready for him. + + * * * * * + +"... Please ... please ... you're just wasting your time. I ... won't ... +tell you." + +"No?" Pirum said, panting. He saw the girl through a haze of anger, +frustration, and desire. She was naked, her lips were bloody, but her +eyes still flashed defiance. Pirum, like most Abarians, was something +of a sadist. + +"Oh, you'll talk," he said. "You'll talk." + +"... never...." + +He dug his strong finger cruelly into her tender body. + +"Bram Forest...." she cried. + + * * * * * + +The policeman behind the desk was saying things. Bram Forest heard the +droning voice, but not the words. Ylia, he thought. Ylia. A moment +before, he actually believed he heard her cry out to him in pain. But +that couldn't be. Besides, what could he do about it? He was trapped +forever on Earth, without the bracelet which could send him, almost on +the wings of thought, back to Tarth, to Ylia, to his destiny. + +_I love you, girl of Tarth, he thought. I love you, Ylia, more than +words and more than worlds._ + +Something whisperingly cold plucked at him, and for an instant his +heart was stilled. + +_Ylia!_ + +Could his love for the girl of Tarth draw him across the unthinkable +abyss? + +"... immodestly attired and ..." the desk sergeant was saying. + +_Ylia, Ylia, call me! Draw me to you, girl of Tarth._ + +_... bramforesthelp...._ + +_Ylia! I hear you! I hear you!_ + +"What the heck's he doing? Praying?" the patrolman asked. + +For Bram Forest was staring devoutly at nothing, staring at the air in +front of his face there in the mundane precinct room as if it held a +radiant vision. + +Suddenly the desk sergeant's jaw dropped open. The patrolman said: +"Hey, wait a mo...." + +Bram Forest was becoming tenuous, vanishing. + + * * * * * + +Insubstantial, transparent, the image of Bram Forest soared past the +encampment of the Golden Apes. "Bylanus!" he called, and his voice was +not insubstantial. Bylanus came at once. + +"If the Abarian legions move, attack them, Bylanus." + +"As you will, Bram Forest. But you...." + +"Don't worry about me. I can control it, I can control it." + +Bylanus passed an enormous hand through Bram Forest's body. + +"I'll materialize, when I find Ylia. She draws me...." Already the +vision was fading. + +"Farewell, Bram Forest." + +_Farewell...._ + +Was it merely the sound of the wind along the banks of the River of +Ice? Bylanus wondered. + + * * * * * + +Something struck Pirum's shoulder. The girl crouched, sobbing, at his +feet. Pirum whirled. + +His face went white when he saw the man. He swung his fist +desperately, and the man blocked it without effort. His arm was +caught, as in a vise. He screamed. Something snapped in his arm. +Something streaked at his face.... + +He took the blow from Bram Forest's fist under the point of the jaw. +His head snapped back against the dungeon wall and memory and desire +and lust and life oozed out through his smashed skull. + +"Ylia!" + +"You came, Bram Forest." + +"I'll never leave you again." + +"Yes, now, in the amphitheater. I think...." + +Overhead, the crowd roared. Bram Forest listened for a fraction of a +second, and raced for the stairs. + +When word of the duel between Bontarc and Retoc came by courier to +Laugrim, second in command of the Abarian army under the missing +Hultax, Laugrim decided it was time to attack. He gave the signal for +his army to march on the city, and the signal was passed from +signal-fire to signal-fire in the huge encampment. In a very short +time, the army's vanguard began to march. _There's no force on all +Tarth strong enough to stop us now_, Laugrim thought exultantly. _This +day, Retoc would rule Tarth._ + +He was right. There was no Tarthian army strong enough to stop them. +But the Army of the Golden Apes which, after Bram Forest's warning, +had deployed itself at the very gates of Nadia City so the people in +the amphitheater might witness the battle, was not of Tarth.... + + * * * * * + +"Well, Bontarc," cried Retoc, "can't you do better than that? Surely a +king...." + +For many minutes now Retoc, the finest swordsman on Tarth, had been +toying with his adversary. He could have killed Bontarc a dozen times +over, but he waited, driving the Nadian ruler back, playing with him, +making him do incredible gymnastics in order to survive, three times +returning his whip-sword to him when it had been torn from the +Nadian's hands. + +All Nadia--and all the rulers of Tarth--watched spellbound. It seemed +to them that the Nadian ruler had gone into the contest willingly. +They made no move, and under the ethics that governed their world, +would make no move, to stop the uneven contest. + +Retoc's blurring sword-point whipped and flashed, drawing blood from a +dozen superficial wounds. The smile never left Retoc's face. +Desperately, knowing his life was forfeit whenever Retoc chose, +Bontarc parried the whip-lashing blade. + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest emerged into the dazzling sunlight of the arena floor. +Squinting, he saw the figures across the sand. + +The men before him were Bontarc of Nadia and Retoc, slayer of his +mother, destroyer of Ofridia. + +Retoc saw him first, and cried out exultantly. His wrist blurred, his +whip-sword flashed, the point singing, and Bontarc's sword flew from +his fingers. "You!" Retoc cried. + +The sword-point had slashed an artery on Bontarc's wrist. The blood +spurted out and Bontarc stood there, dazed, holding the wound shut +with his left hand. + +"Are you all right, sire?" Bram Forest asked. + +"I can manage until a doctor binds--" + + * * * * * + +Bram Forest picked up the Nadian ruler's whip-sword and faced his +enemy, sword to sword, at last. + +Retoc looked at him, and laughed. "I almost killed you once," he said. +His hand barely seemed to move, but the point of his blade, whipping, +flashing, was everywhere. Bram Forest parried desperately. "I'll +finish the job now," Retoc vowed. + +Then Bram Forest did an unexpected thing. He used the whip-sword not +as a sword: he couldn't hope to match Retoc's skill as a swordsman. He +used it as a whip is used, his great arm slicing back and forth +through air, up over his head and down, the long length of the +uncoiled blading whipping and darting like something alive across the +sands. + +Retoc retreated two steps, and lunged with what he hoped would be a +death blow. + +Prokliam the seneschal was trembling so much he could hardly stand. +Just outside the amphitheater, in the very shadow of the amphitheater +wall, the great Golden Apes of legend had materialized. There were +thousands of them, and they were three times the size of men, and +methodically and with great ease, they were destroying the Abarian +army before it could enter the amphitheater. + +Without the Abarian army, Volna and Retoc would never subjugate Nadia, +never rule Tarth. But Prokliam the seneschal had committed himself to +their cause. Now only death awaited him. + +Or, had he committed himself? Couldn't he change sides before it was +too late? Couldn't he slay Volna, here in the royal box, for all to +see? Couldn't he become a hero of the people? He was confused. He +wished he could think clearly, but he was more frightened than he had +ever been in his life. There was something wrong with his logic. +Something.... Well, no matter. Slay Volna first, call her traitor, and +then worry about his logic-- + +He turned away from the wall and marched down the flights of stairs +between the citizens of Nadia, flanked in two wildly shouting mobs on +either side of the aisle, and plunged a knife into Volna's back, +killing her instantly. + +The people roared, and rose up. Like a tide they swept toward +Prokliam, the seneschal who had wanted to be prime minister. + +"No, no!" he cried. "No, please. You don't understand. ... I see it now ... +what was wrong with my thinking ... you don't know yet ... you don't +know ... to you she was still the Princess Volna, loyal, true ... you +don't understand, please." + +The wave rolled over Prokliam the seneschal, leaving him battered and +bloody and dead in its wake. + + * * * * * + +The strong, whipping motion of Bram Forest's arm made a wall of steel +of his whip-sword. Try as he might, with all the skill at his command, +Retoc could not dent that wall. But, he thought, there was another +way. Slowly, desperately, he maneuvered Bram Forest back toward +Bontarc, who was sitting in the sand and using all his remaining +energy to hold the life blood in his veins, his fingers clamped, +vise-like, about his own arm. + +Bram Forest's arm blurred up, down, to either side. He wove a web of +death. It was brawn against skill, he knew--and the strength of his +arm might win! Retoc was sweating. Retoc was not the cool swordsman he +had been moments before. Desperately, Retoc sought an opening, and +found none. True, his superior footwork was forcing Bram Forest back +across the sand, but what did that matter? Last time they dueled he +had made the mistake of meeting Retoc on his own grounds as greatest +swordsman of Tarth. This time.... + +His legs caught against something. He fell heavily. + +Retoc's sword-point flashed down. + +Bram Forest rolled over, stood up with sand blinding his eyes. For +precious moments he could see nothing but could only spin with the +whip-sword; slashing air in all directions, hoping Retoc couldn't +strike through the wall of steel. + +Then, slowly, vision returned to his stinging eyes. Bontarc lay +stretched out on the sand now, unconscious, the blood pumping from his +severed artery. If he bled like that for more than a few moments, he +would die. If he died, and if Nadia rose in its wrath against Abaria, +then all that Bram Forest had dreamed of, not revenge against Abaria +for a wrong done, but eternal peace on Tarth, would be lost.... + +He took the offensive, weaving his wall of steel toward Retoc. The +Abarian thrust his own sword, and withdrew it, and parried, and lunged +and thrust again. The wall of steel which was Bram Forest's singing +blade advanced relentlessly. + +Round and round his head, Bram Forest whirled the whip-sword. Retoc +could--just--block the motion, the death-laden circle, with his own +blade. He became accustomed to it. He used all his effort, all his +skill to block it. + +Then, abruptly, Bram Forest raised his sword-arm and brought it down +from high over his head. + +Retoc screamed. + +And died screaming, his head and torso split from crown to navel. + +Bram Forest rushed to Bontarc, stretched out on the sand, and with his +own hand stemmed the bleeding. + +Bylanus the Golden Ape said: "All Tarth is yours to command if you +wish it, Bram Forest." + +"No, Bylanus. Take your people back to your world and live in peace. +We of Tarth thank you." + +Bylanus smiled. "I thought you would say that." + +"Portox was a great scientist," Bram Forest said. "But he thought too +much of revenge. The ancient wrong is righted." + +"Then you'll spare Abaria?" gasped the delegate of the assembled +Tarthian nobles, who had come to the meeting called by Bylanus that +night. + +"My fight was with Retoc and the Abarian army. Retoc is dead, the army +decimated and disbanded. My fight with Abaria is over." + +"Then what will you do?" + +Bram Forest took Ylia's hand. "I'd like to see a great nation rise +again on the Plains of Ofrid." + +Bontarc, his arm bandaged, said: "My people will help you build. And, +with your wayfarers as a nucleus maid Ylia...." + +"It will be a small nation at first," Ylia said. + +"It will grow, so long as Tarth knows peace," Bontarc told her. + +"Tarth will know nothing but peace from now on," Bram Forest promised. + +It was a promise which he knew all of them would keep. + +THE END + + * * * * * + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Quest of the Golden Ape, by +Ivar Jorgensen and Adam Chase + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEST OF THE GOLDEN APE *** + +***** This file should be named 32953.txt or 32953.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/9/5/32953/ + +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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