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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of Princess of Chaos, by Bryce Walton
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: Princess of Chaos
-
-Author: Bryce Walton
-
-Release Date: January 04, 2021 [eBook #64214]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed
-             Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRINCESS OF CHAOS ***
-
-
-
-
-                           PRINCESS OF CHAOS
-
-                            By BRYCE WALTON
-
-        The howling, slavering mob in the blood-spattered arena
-        hated the half-breed Moljar--prayed gibberingly for his
-        death. But Moljar looked coldly up at the Princess and
-          licked dry lips. He would not die--while she lived!
-
-           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
-                      Planet Stories Spring 1947.
-         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
-         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
-
-
-Moljar planted his columnar legs wide apart beside the dying saurian
-and blinked blood and sweat from his eyes. Only slightly strained
-after three hours of the Red Moon Games, his seven foot height of
-Terran-Martian muscles gleamed damply in the blazing arc lights of the
-Colosseum. His lungs sucked hungrily at the dense Venusian air as he
-waited for whatever would next be sent against him, the champion of
-them all.
-
-Through sweat-blurred vision he watched the climbing tiers of eager
-spectators, a high curvature outlined against the crimson mist. Red
-Moon Games! Bi-monthly slaughter, ordered by the Princess Alhone when
-the unnatural filtering of the reflected sun's rays spread a carmine
-glow through the fog.
-
-The grey sands of the arena were daubed with sprawled forms of monsters
-and men alike. Out of the shambles, Moljar's black barbarian eyes shone
-as they swung up to fix on the Princess Alhone where she sat with a
-retinue in her private observation box. Her grey-furred, semi-human
-body glimmered softly beneath the blue-glowing effulgence that always
-bathed her in its royal cold light.
-
-Her heavily jeweled paw raised, dropped. The signal.
-
-A roar of sadistic anticipation swelled, echoing from the misty range
-of hills, beyond Venus Port, out across the Sea of Mort that washed its
-marble walls.
-
-Moljar shifted toward the gates. His hands flexed about the alloy bar.
-At Princess Alhone's gesture, the gates across the arena lifted. The
-monstrous beast, somewhat resembling a Mesozoic saber-tooth tiger of
-Terra, charged out straight for Moljar in a blinding burst of speed and
-power.
-
-The half-breed swung the pitiful weapon which had jokingly been granted
-him, a five-foot length of compressed alloy. It cracked against the
-giant cat's skull. Moljar leaped aside as the beast plunked on its
-face, rolled in a flurry of sand and blood. Tendrils of gore oozed from
-its shattered skull as it lumbered erect and charged again, erratically
-now, circling and leaping down toward the arena's far end, blinded and
-roaring in pain.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-A sigh of ecstasy rose up in a long drone from the spectators--a
-polyglot of Solarians who had paid eighty credits for this night of
-vicarious blood-lust. Wealthy interplanetary aristocrats and cartel
-magnates, Mercurian and Martian speculators, Terran monopolists,
-adventurers and adventuresses from many worlds, muckers from the
-asteroid mines. All imagining themselves to be Moljar tonight. All
-hating him because he was a half-breed.
-
-Of the half-thousand prisoners who had been marched into the
-amphitheatre--a few Terran mutants, many half-breeds, and space pirates
-who couldn't pay enough hush-hush credits--only three remained
-standing. The Terran girl mutant, Mahra, who had helped him slay the
-saurian and who had rare courage. Himself. And Gasdon, the Martian
-pirate, who, barehanded, was still battling the giant squid in the
-arena's synthetic quagmire. His yellow body was a panting, straining
-bulk beyond the tendrils of sulphur dioxide that bubbled up through the
-bog.
-
-Moljar felt the Terran girl's hot breath on his neck as he waited for
-the pain-maddened cat to scent him down. His glittering eyes turned and
-met hers. Her silver mutant's hair glowed beneath the merciless glare
-of the flood lights. Her full, yet agile body wriggled in its brief
-trappings in nervous preparation for the cat's rapid return from the
-end of the arena. But when she spoke to Moljar her lips curled with
-obvious distaste.
-
-"You fight well, for a half-breed," she said.
-
-His teeth shone white in what might have been either a laugh or a
-snarl. "Go to your Martian outlaw. Gasdon's pure of blood. If he'll
-have you--mutant!"
-
-She laughed sharply like shimmering glass. "I'm Mahra. I stand alone."
-
-"You'll die alone," said Moljar, "if you stand by me."
-
-She tossed her head. The cat was bearing down, shrieking in blind hate.
-"You think you've won, barbarian. Wait 'til the _kristons_ are turned
-loose on us."
-
-"I wait," said Moljar simply. "I've waited a long time, and I can wait
-forever. And someday I'll kill her. Alhone's pelt I'll have and give to
-my people to whom I pledged it."
-
-His blood-spattered arm swept aside as the giant cat ploughed past in
-its sightless, pounding charge. He swung his bar again. It crunched
-through tissue and bone and brain, and the cat dropped suddenly like a
-stone. Its sleek gold and black body shivered and twitched as it died.
-
-He planted a sandaled foot on the carcass and raised his face toward
-the Princess Alhone's royal booth. Reluctantly, a smattering of
-applause rose. Princess Alhone's silkily furred body was standing now.
-Motionless.
-
-Moljar's voice rang out clear through the mist. "Moljar waits for
-worthy opposition. He is bored."
-
-"Dirty half-breed dog!" howled a voice. Thousands joined in a thunder
-of obscene and filthy epithets.
-
-Moljar laughed loudly. He saw Alhone's slim alien form tense as the
-saber tooth's had before a charge. And he began walking toward her
-across the blood-stained sands.
-
-He paused as she raised a jeweled paw again. Moljar's eyes narrowed
-as the almost invisible vibrational force-wall rose up before the
-spectators and the rim of the vast arena.
-
-"_Kristons!_" screamed Mahra behind him. "The wall protects the
-audience."
-
-He heard the high whirring whine of the huge tri-winged, armor-plated
-insects as they were released into the arena. They dove and circled,
-maddened by the miasmic death vapor overhanging the stadium.
-
-Like a trapped beast, the half-breed turned this way and that. Beads of
-sweat stood out on his heaving chest. He wiped his sweat-slippery hands
-on his leather tunic, then dried them in the sand, before he gripped
-his alloy bludgeon again. Then with the long eerie cry of the wild
-desert tribes he sprang into the air to meet the hurtling drive of the
-_kriston_ that had singled him out.
-
-The blinding speed of its wings distorted his perspective. The alloy
-bar, caught in their blurring motion, spun from his stunned hands. He
-cursed as he fell beneath its flight.
-
-Dimly, he heard the joyous roaring of the throngs who watched him
-fall. As he rolled aside he heard Mahra's frightened scream. He felt
-the spearing slash of the _kriston's_ poisonous barbed fang. His arms
-whipped out, hands closed on the horned tip. He was on his feet heaving
-outward. He felt tendons rip and a sudden freedom as the tongue tore
-from the _kriston's_ throat. Its death cry sounded like escaping steam.
-
-He was running toward the outcast Terran girl who was dodging the
-worrying darting movements of another _kriston_. He swung the grotesque
-whip-like tongue of the one he had slain as he ran.
-
-He stopped. The creature attacking Mahra suddenly became a lifeless
-charred hulk. The other _kristons_ were plunging into the sand,
-smoking, burning. His eyes swung up. The force-wall was gone. The
-heat ray on the roof landing above the catacombs had destroyed the
-_kristons_ before their work was done. The heat ray was only used for
-emergencies. What had moved the Anghorians to save them?
-
-Miraculously, the three still lived. Moljar, Mahra, and the Martian
-outlaw Gasdon who had blinded the squid by punching out its eyes.
-Having no scent faculties it was flapping tentacles helplessly in its
-phosphorescent bog.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-An aimless hum of fear and hysteria exploded outward from the throng.
-They were fleeing from the stands, trampling, yelling frantically, some
-burning their way through the choked exits of the Colosseum. They were
-jammed in its elevators, blocking its corridors and archways.
-
-Gasdon came running toward Moljar and the girl. His towering body,
-dripping mucous from the squid battle, was as large as Moljar's, but
-lacked its agility and integration of movement. His ugly face was
-twisted in fanatical purpose.
-
-"Now we fight!" he shouted, "for her! I've wanted to meet Moljar, the
-half-breed freak, before witnesses who will testify to your defeat."
-
-Mahra laughed. "Morons. I'll choose my own lover. And I certainly can't
-imagine him being either of you!"
-
-"What witnesses will see you, Gasdon?" asked Moljar. "They run for
-their lives. Their pure hearts pump thin water."
-
-A loud speaker blared:
-
-THE MISTMEN! VENUS PORT IS UNDER ATTACK. TAKE TO THE JUNGLES. MISTMEN
-HAVE DESTROYED VENUS PORT COMMUNICATIONS. THEY ARE SACKING, PLUNDERING,
-KILLING. FLEE FOR YOUR LIVES! THE MISTMEN! VENUS PORT HAS BEEN ATTACKED
-AND....
-
-Mahra trembled with uncontrollable fears. Her mutant's mind clouded
-over with the significance of the descending terror. Gasdon, his
-egomaniacal feud with Moljar forgotten for the moment, shivered, and
-his green eyes probed the thick cloud blanket.
-
-Moljar's intuitive senses stirred darkly. Mistmen. Scourge of Venus,
-super-scientific pirates, they appeared mysteriously out of the fogs to
-loot and kill. Protected by force shields of thick grey, impenetrable
-mists, they appeared in sudden ruthless violence, sacked, slew, and
-vanished into the unknown land that spawned them.
-
-Now, they were actually attacking Venus Port!
-
-The stands were empty, except for the dead and dying who had been
-trampled or burned by the stampeding crowds. They and the Princess
-Alhone, amid her personal bodyguard. She was standing now, her slender,
-evil grace swaying in the ever-present blue glow.
-
-She motioned to Moljar. He trembled. "This is the time," he said very
-low in his throat like a growling dog. "I have waited long."
-
-He strode across the reddened sands towards her. Her yellow cat-eyes
-veiled her study of his approach. Her feral body leaned tautly as it
-waited. The half-breed looked up. She was only fifteen feet above him;
-he could leap the distance.
-
-Her high mewing voice said, "They have dared attack Venus Port! If they
-continue, they will soon be undisputed rulers of my planet. Soon, with
-such boldness, the Mistmen might even rule the System. Moljar, would
-you like freedom?"
-
-He shrugged. "Can a half-breed ever be free?"
-
-"On Venus, I have but to speak to make any being free."
-
-"Try telling the Mistmen that," said Moljar boldly. "They'll soon be
-here."
-
-"I've never, in all the places I have been, seen quite such a
-magnificent fool as you, Moljar. Anyway, our communications are cut
-off. If a man could get through to Anghore, bring back a force ...
-my scientists in Anghore have been perfecting a new vibro-generator
-as a weapon. Perhaps it is completed now. The Mistmen have never
-been attacked. They surprise, throw up detectors and shut off
-communications, and disappear before any reinforcements can arrive."
-
-Moljar's fingers quivered for her slim throat. But his voice seemed
-calm. "Could one get through their detectors to Anghore?"
-
-"You perhaps could. If you can, Moljar, I'll make you a Guard of
-Anghore."
-
-Stolid as was the half-breed's neural circuit, the sudden statement
-momentarily shocked him. It was rumored that Alhone chose certain
-fighters to go to Anghore. But that he, a contemptible half-breed
-should be promised a position as Alhone's personal guard....
-
-"Why me?" he was saying.
-
-"In these games I have seen the best fighters of three worlds. But I
-have never seen anyone fight as you fought tonight."
-
-A series of thunderous explosions rocked the stadium. A brilliant
-pyrotechnic display glittered fantastically through the thick cloud
-layers above Venus Port. The Mistmen were storming the city with
-customary thorough and savage efficiency. The crying of a helpless city
-in pain rose and fell in an aimless pattern of terror.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Moljar noted the energy guns held in the hands of the Anghorians
-surrounding their Princess. This was not the time. One aggressive move
-from him, and he would be annihilated on the spot. If he accepted her
-proposition, got through to Anghore and was rewarded as she promised,
-then he would surely eventually be placed in a fool-proof position to
-kill her. Time meant nothing. He had worked and waited many years. Many
-more would not matter--if they led to the fulfilment of his pledge.
-Only her death mattered. Revenge. Her pelt, well cured and soft,
-presented to his tribesmen.
-
-The Mistmen were sweeping toward the Colosseum. The roar of their
-advance increased rapidly. He must decide.
-
-Anghore. Over this outlaw world of blood-lust and savagery, ruled
-Alhone. Thousands of his kind who had migrated here had been slain
-under her sanction. But who, or what, was Alhone? What and where was
-Anghore? Out of the numerous strange and unexplored lands of Venus she
-might have come. No one knew. There was only a name. Anghore. Anghore
-that lay somewhere across the Sea of Mort.
-
-A few claimed to have seen Anghore--from a distance. A jumble of towers
-spearing into the mist higher than the mountain peaks. Only Princess
-Alhone and her ferocious minions knew of it. And no one talked with
-them.
-
-Alhone ruled slave followers with weapons of basic energies as strange
-in origin as Alhone herself. Followers who, in return for their
-unquestioning, dogged devotion, held positions of great personal power.
-In their rich trappings, they ruled over private little spheres of
-influence, answering only to Alhone.
-
-Who was Alhone?--Where was Anghore?--What would he become should he
-accept this offer? None of these things mattered. Sometime, somewhere,
-he would have the opportunity to strip that soft furred hide from her
-quivering body--and no personal price he might pay would be too dear.
-
-"Well, Moljar," she was saying. "Doesn't my offer interest you?"
-
-He controlled himself well as he nodded. "I'll go to Anghore, wherever
-it is."
-
-Her round pink face crinkled. "You are so certain, barbarian. Few have
-crossed the Sea of Mort. It is well-named."
-
-"I will go to Anghore," he repeated.
-
-"Then you should hurry. The Mistmen are outside the stadium now, and
-I'm sure they would like to find us here. At the other end of the
-stadium, above the catacombs, is the gyro-scout. For emergencies in the
-games," she laughed. "It has seldom been used. Take it. Its directional
-beam is already set for Anghore. It will take you directly there. If
-you have the key."
-
-Moljar flexed his shoulders. His eyes were narrow, suspicious. No one
-ordinarily could break through the Mistmen's detector bands. Then how
-could _he_? He shrugged. At least he would be free for a while.
-
-Alhone removed the gleaming yellow stone from one of her semi-webbed
-fingers. She dropped it to him. "This will open the gyro to you. It
-will function only under this stone's influence. It will also, if you
-reach my castle, open the gates into Anghore. You shall be rewarded,
-Moljar--bountifully."
-
-His eyes fastened on her throat. "Yes," he said. "I depend on it." He
-slipped the vibrant, throbbing yellow stone on his smallest finger. He
-stepped back and then a tremendous blast of energy surged against him.
-The blue field which enveloped the Anghorians was beginning to fade. A
-stabbing pain lanced up his spine, up into his brain, to explode there
-in a flash of wrenching agony. He stumbled, went down.
-
-The blue field blurred, swirled, deepened in color. It became a vortex
-of violently churning silver shot with fire. A nauseous weakness spread
-through him. The Anghorians, the stadium, the whirling blue fires, all
-faded.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-He opened his eyes slowly. It was raining. A few fat warm drops were
-spattering down, then a curtain of water spilled from the stadium wall.
-Shamefully he climbed to his feet, shook his head, looked about warily
-for Mistmen.
-
-If he had blanked out it had only been for a few seconds. The blue
-field was gone. And with it, Alhone and her sycophants. Instinctively,
-he jerked his hand up. The yellow ring-key was gone. He bellowed
-bitterly. And a laugh answered. Gasdon!
-
-He turned. The Martian outlaw had one arm around the struggling Terran
-girl. She was biting and striking and cursing, but with no effect.
-She writhed helplessly under his arm. There was a yellow flash on the
-outlaw's other hand as it raised, clutching an alloy bar. Gasdon had
-taken the key!
-
-The half-breed swept a defense bar from a gladiator's stiff dead
-hand. Gasdon laughed fearless scorn, threw the girl from him, and met
-Moljar's rush with his own bar upraised. They crashed together with
-a dull clang, parted, struck again. They circled warily, feinting,
-parrying, thrusting....
-
-Mahra's scream rang out. "The Mistmen! Coming into the arena!"
-
-Moljar's eyes darted toward her. Beyond, far across the sands, were
-a number of grey vaporous spheres. Within their depths, dim shapes,
-indistinct, blurred, moved in a steady ferocious intent toward the
-three.
-
-"Fight!" yelled Gasdon. He charged toward Moljar again. His face was
-twisted insanely. "We're doomed anyway. Defend yourself!" His broad
-yellow face glowed with obsession as he sprang. His alloy bar whirled
-in a singing arc, which was unwise. Moljar dropped beneath the level
-of the bar, punched savagely with the end of his own. Gasdon screamed
-hoarsely as the blunt end sank into his solar plexus. He staggered
-back, trying to lift the bar. Moljar swung downward, sank his bar
-halfway through the Martian outlaw's heavy skull.
-
-Quickly Moljar retracted the yellow ring. He yelled at the girl. Then
-they were running together across the death-littered amphitheatre. Rays
-of force might have burned them down easily, but for some reason not
-then known to Moljar, the Mistmen did not fire.
-
-They darted through an unguarded archway, up through level after level.
-They were still running easily when they reached the roof landing above
-the catacombs where the monsters of the games were kept. The long low
-hangar's panel slid open when the ring was applied to its invisible
-photo-electronic reaction mechanism. The gyro-scout's panel and
-instruments also were activated by the ring of Alhone.
-
-Moljar hesitated, grinned at the girl. Her silver hair shone like dewed
-metal. "You are following me? A half-breed? A slave?"
-
-"I'm not following anyone, not in the sense you mean. I'm with you,
-that's all. I'd have to fight alone, otherwise. That would hardly be
-intelligent of me, would it?"
-
-"Hardly," he said. "Come on." The gyro-scout lifted automatically,
-straight up through increasingly thick cloud-layers, until it shot
-suddenly forward, straight like a bullet across Venus Port and above
-the Sea of Mort.
-
-A radabeam and an automatic pilot was in complete control. Moljar
-turned to the Terran mutant. Her taut face was trying to pierce the
-dense sheath of cloud.
-
-"This is a strange dream, Mahra."
-
-"Dream?" She turned her weird eyes on him briefly.
-
-"What else? A half-breed, child of a Terran woman and a Martian outlaw,
-travels across the Sea of Death with an outcast mutant." He shook his
-head. "And for Alhone we fly. For Alhone, the she-monster whom no one
-knows, to Anghore where no one has ever been and returned."
-
-"Is it far across this death trap?"
-
-"I've heard that in miles it is only perhaps a hundred. But in perils--"
-
-The girl said abruptly, angrily, "For Alhone! You're crazy! If we can
-take control from the automatic pilot, we could--"
-
-"We can not do that," said Moljar. "We would only crash down there.
-It's bad ... down there."
-
-She fell silent. The atomic motor whirred almost silently, driving them
-toward Anghore.
-
-"There is great mystery here," said Moljar. "We seem guided by forces
-beyond our control. Some powerful, invisible wind."
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Curious, nervous, Mahra's rummaging uncovered weapons beneath the
-gyro's seats. Two electro-blasters and a duelling dagger. They each
-took a pistol, and she gave the half-breed the long slim knife. Then,
-when she sat down, her bare shoulder rubbed slightly against him. And
-remained there.
-
-His flesh tingled. His hand gripped the electro-gun tighter in his
-hand. "Why do the Terrans hate you mutants so much?" he asked. "Are the
-rumors about you mutant's deadly powers true?"
-
-She sighed. "Perhaps some of them are true. Anyway the Normals are very
-scared of us. That's why they isolate and scourge us. We can rule them
-when we decide we want to."
-
-"Will you want to?"
-
-"Perhaps, someday. When the time is right."
-
-"I am neither ruled, nor do I wish to rule," said Moljar.
-
-"You half-breeds are a strange tribe. Too bad you must all be such
-barbarians, such savages."
-
-He smiled grimly. "We are what we were made. Somehow, the offspring
-of a Martian-Terran union results in much larger, much longer-living
-stock. We were envied. Much as you mutants are on Terra, blessed with
-double-life compared to Normals. We were driven into the deserts,
-reviled, imprisoned, beaten. There aren't many of us left. Of those
-thousands who sought to migrate here and find freedom, Alhone's games
-wiped out all but a few hundred."
-
-Her voice sharpened. "You found her attractive! You know you did! You
-swore to avenge your people and bring her pelt back to Mars. Instead,
-you run errands for her!"
-
-His shaggy black head turned. His eyes blazed with hate into hers.
-"That alien slut! It was a way out of Venus Port. It will lead me to
-her again. I could do nothing there."
-
-She sulked. He sensed the slight trembling of her arm against his, and
-smiled. "My vows cannot change. Someday her pelt will hang in Ankhar's
-trophy cave."
-
-She screamed. Her lips quivered as she raised a hand over her face.
-"Will you?" Her voice shrilled. "A _gruoon_!"
-
-Moljar's stomach knotted. He had not even time to fire. The giant
-flying croc was plunging straight into them. There was a tearing
-impact. The gyro wobbled. Then the controls went dead. The little ship
-buckled, vibrated as though the winged crocodile was trying to devour
-it, rend it with its claws. Then the crushed blades released their
-hold, and the gyro spun down in a fluttering spiral.
-
-Moljar had time to jam his electro-gun and a small magnetic compass
-into a bag of water-proof plastic and belt it to his waist before they
-crashed violently into the Sea of Death.
-
-
-                                  II
-
-The tribes from which Moljar came were fatalists. Moljar accepted the
-fact that he was face to face with imminent death. Very well. If there
-was a way out, he would find it. If not, he would go on to Khles,
-where dead warriors go. And from Khles he would fight his way into the
-eternal paradise of Perlarh.
-
-He had expected the gyro to float at least a few minutes. But it
-sank almost immediately. The shock of the crash had knocked Mahra
-unconscious; pulling her against the suction as the gyro went under was
-a herculean task. The crumbled wreckage went down. It left only a tiny
-whirlpool in its wake.
-
-Mahra's consciousness returned quickly after a few dunkings in the
-tepid water. She was in his arms, her silver hair floating out over the
-dull glassy sheen of the water. He treaded easily, looking about. They
-could see a few hundred metres but beyond that narrow radius, the cloud
-blankets became an impenetrable fog. Patches of seaweed, lichen and
-rotting debris floated silently by on the torpid water, giving off a
-phosphorescent glow that reflected weirdly against the backdrop of mist.
-
-Nature seemed to have stopped breathing. The air was heavy, oppressive.
-And the high humidity and heat, unrelieved by any wind, was weighty and
-pressed on them.
-
-"Can you swim?" he asked.
-
-"Quite well." Her hands were on his shoulders. They clung a moment,
-then shoved away.
-
-Treading water now as easily as he, she asked, "How long do you give us
-to live? Not that it matters."
-
-"The future is a mystery to me," he said. "Maybe a second. Maybe a
-hundred years."
-
-"But you'll admit we've no chance now! Soon hordes of sea monsters will
-scent us out. Surely you'll not deny that this time you will go to meet
-your barbaric gods!"
-
-"Who knows?"
-
-She cursed him thoroughly. "You're mad!"
-
-"I am Moljar."
-
-She sighed resignedly. "You say that like omnipotence would say, 'I'm
-God'."
-
-"It is enough for me. Who can say they know of more than themselves? I
-simply know I am Moljar. I live. I have purpose. The pelt of Alhone. A
-pledge I must keep. Beyond that--nothing."
-
-She tossed wet hair from her eyes. "Maybe your barbaric code is best
-after all. The System's returned to barbarism. Decay, ruin. Why not
-a philosophy to fit it? I rather like you. If you only weren't a
-half-breed."
-
-He grinned. "If you only were not a mutant." His eyes caught a dark,
-flat floating object some distance away. A blurred, indistinct outline.
-He pointed.
-
-"Looks like something large enough to float us," she said. Then she
-cried out suddenly and pointed over his shoulder.
-
-His knife was in his hands as his legs churned him around in the
-brackish water. The sea-serpent's flat head arched high above them,
-dripping an avalanche of weed and water upon their upturned faces. Its
-sleek, sinuous body shot upward, a monster with fanged jaws and darting
-forked tongue, with bulging eyes, and bony head and snout.
-
-"Keep diving," yelled Moljar. "It won't open its mouth under water." He
-watched her surface dive like a fish, then followed himself just as the
-bullet-like head of the hissing hydrophidian slashed down.
-
-Its massive length coiled and uncoiled savagely about them. The water
-was a churning white foam. Moljar tried repeatedly to sink his knife
-into the under-belly of the serpent. But it was like soft but tough
-plastic, only slightly resilient.
-
-[Illustration: _Its massive length coiled and uncoiled savagely about
-them._]
-
-He broke surface, gasped great gulps of the dense air. He saw Mahra
-and pointed to the right toward the flat raft object they had seen
-floating there. He yelled. "Keep diving and swimming toward that." Then
-he went under again as the serpent's head slapped into the water where
-his own head had been.
-
-It was a world of phosphorescent glimmerings like monstrous fireflies,
-bubbling and coruscating about his staring eyes as he battled the
-boiling currents stirred by the serpent. He swam until his lungs were
-shrieking with agony, then came up again for air. He was only a few
-feet this time from the floating area. It looked like a collected mass
-of debris now.
-
-He swam frantically toward it. If he could get up out of the water, he
-could break out his electro-gun. He looked around for the girl. Her
-head bobbed up. But still some distance from him. The hydrophidian
-hissed angrily and struck again. Her silver hair disappeared beneath
-the serpent's mouth.
-
-He drew himself up onto the raft. He had a quick second of appraisal as
-he tore the gun from its plastic wrappings. The raft was solid, very
-buoyant, and membranaceous. Its surface was glossy and veined like the
-broad leaves of the swamp lilies.
-
-How thick this raft was, how it was made, or how much more of it there
-was Moljar had no time to think about. But he did know it was alive!
-
-The girl came up a few metres from him this time. Her arms moved
-weakly. Her face was deathly pale and her eyes pleaded silently beneath
-the bizarre strands of her silver hair. She again started to sink
-wearily down as the serpent hissed hungrily and struck.
-
-This time it would have feasted. However Moljar's electro-gun crackled,
-and its lethal charges burned the monster's glistening length into
-pieces. They fell writhing in separate anguish all around the girl,
-crimsoning the water to a thick red.
-
-He lifted her easily up onto the raft-creature. She sank down in a
-dripping and exhausted heap.
-
-"For a half-breed," she whispered between gasps, "you have courage."
-Then she closed her eyes. The raft rippled and bucked slightly as
-something huge stirred against its bottom.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-The night hours before morning were illuminated, a strange twilight of
-phosphorescence. They sat in the middle of the organic raft and waited
-tensely. The stirring beneath it had grown more violent.
-
-"Man isn't the only highly adaptable animal--not even the most
-ingenious." The girl's tone was pedantic, amazingly learned. Moljar
-nodded surlily, not so interested, apparently, in lectures. He edged
-toward the girl until their shoulders touched. She paused. Continued.
-
-"The animal that build this raft for itself is hiding beneath it now.
-The serpent frightened it. Soon it will have to come up for air."
-
-"How do you know so much," he growled.
-
-"Earth University of Interplanetary Fauna," she said.
-
-He sneered. "A mutant!"
-
-"My parents dyed my hair, and with another name I got by for a while. I
-was going to be a field worker, but they caught up with me. They always
-do. Anyway, as I was saying, this creature is much like an ianthina, or
-snail, of earth. It breathes through a siphon, or tubular proboscis. It
-uses this siphon to suck in air with which it builds these rafts for
-itself, to keep its heavy body and shell afloat. It's an adventurer
-like you, Moljar. It spends its life floating or sailing about like a
-ship."
-
-Moljar grunted. He moved one corded arm behind her. She shifted a
-little.
-
-"Very interesting thing," she said. "Biology. When this ianthina
-decides to build its raft, it exudes a sticky mucous over the surface
-of the sea, layer after layer of it. Then it draws air into its siphon
-and permits the bubbles to escape beneath the mucous to which they
-cling. These air sacks imprison the air as the mucous hardens. And
-we have this very strong raft, a life boat with air tanks. Aren't we
-lucky?"
-
-The raft jolted violently. "Are we?" said Moljar. "Maybe it does not
-want to share its raft."
-
-A number of tentacles slithered up and over the edge of the raft. Two
-antenna with slimy knobs stood up and quivered at Moljar.
-
-The girl tried to ignore the sight. "But this raft is better than any
-man has ever been able to build." Her voice tightened as more of the
-ianthina surged into view. "This snail can make more bubbles at will,
-and it can enlarge its raft whenever it wants to."
-
-There was a sudden upsurging height of gigantic pink-fleshed bulk. It
-rose up until it towered over its raft. A little above the level of
-the water they could see its brilliantly colored spiral shell-house
-gleaming olive-green with streaks and spots of purple, violet and black.
-
-The body of the ianthina continued to exude outward from its shell.
-From it a thick tendon of flesh spread out to either side to form the
-frame work of its raft, an integral part of its giant body.
-
-"We've got to get this craft moving someway toward Anghore," said
-Moljar.
-
-She stared at him, open mouthed, and then said, "Is that all? How will
-you summon your genii, or is that you?"
-
-He shrugged. "It must be done. We are wasting time. First we must burn
-this shell away from the raft. It encumbers us."
-
-She was shaking her head as he crouched on his knees, leveling the gun
-at a point beneath the ianthina's waving antenna. He was about to press
-the stud, then cursed and fell sidewise beneath the long descending
-squeal.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Attracted by the glow of the ianthina, a monstrous bat had dived
-suddenly toward them from somewhere up in that dense grey curtain.
-Neither of them saw its giant webbed wings until it fanned them like an
-abrupt deadly wind.
-
-"Burn it!" scream Mahra, as the bat's hideous evilly grinning mouth
-opened to reveal rows of yellowed teeth, and its gleaming red eyes
-bored toward them through the mist. "I lost my electro in the water."
-
-Moljar was shaking his head. He tossed her the blaster. "You. Burn
-the ianthina free from the raft." The bat had sped by, circled, was
-returning. "This bat can do us some good!"
-
-Moljar stood up and met the sweep of the bat's flexing claws. Just in
-time he leaped upward between them, and clutched the bat's thick furred
-belly. He felt the ratty teeth clack shut behind him as he was raised
-upward into the swirling vapor.
-
-His nose curled, and he choked with the stench of the beast's
-vermin-infested fur. Then, still gripping the coarse hair with one
-hand, he raised his knife with the other. A quick long slash brought a
-fearsome scream hissing in his face. He slashed again and again until
-the probing blade found the beast's heart.
-
-Gore spilled over him as he clung to the now wet hair. It got too
-slippery to hold. He grabbed the flailing claws as the gasping,
-thrashing creature plummeted seaward. The bat's body flopped into the
-water not far from the raft. It beat futilely with one foot, spinning
-in weakening frothing circles. Suddenly it was dead.
-
-Moljar worked frantically against time. The blood would attract every
-kind and condition of sea monster. He hacked and strained at the joint
-where the huge wing joined the body. The stench almost overpowered him
-as he floundered about. But finally the great ribbed wing came free.
-Moljar's breath was coming in deep gusts as he dragged himself up onto
-the raft and pulled part of the wing up after him. He sat on it to
-anchor it while he rested.
-
-He looked at the girl. She nodded. "You're pretty brave, for a
-half-breed."
-
-He grunted breathlessly.
-
-She came closer and handed him his blaster. "I burned it away. I burned
-its ganglia first, which it used for a brain. Then I severed the
-tendons which fastened it to its float. Anything else?"
-
-Moljar was up again now, hacking at the thick tough surface of one end
-of the raft. "Yes. Watch that bat wing. Don't let it slide away. It is
-what we must have to reach Anghore."
-
-"What are you doing now? And what's the wing for?"
-
-He answered carelessly, "I'm going to make us a sail from the wing.
-It is almost a perfect sail of its kind. I figure the gyro brought us
-halfway across the sea. Maybe we have a third of the way to go. I have
-a compass and I saw what direction we were following before we crashed.
-With a fair wind, and luck, we should reach shore within a day."
-
-She stared with no attempt, now, to conceal her admiration for the
-barbarian. "For a half-breed," she said, "you've got a brain."
-
-Moljar said nothing. He had finished digging the hole in the surface
-of the raft. He next cut long strips of leather from his tunic for
-rigging. The twenty-foot-high leading edge of the bat's wing, a high
-curving spar, he stepped deeply in the hole, like a mast. Soon they
-were moving through the fantastic sea before a slight, lethargic breeze.
-
-Their blaster protected them many times from the countless varieties of
-sea and air creatures that constantly attacked them. Moljar devised a
-sea-anchor by cutting off one of the air sacks from beneath the raft,
-and tying it to one end of a long leather rope. When the wind blew in
-the wrong direction, he threw out the sea-anchor.
-
-There was little difference between night and day, except that the
-phosphorescence dimmed and was replaced by a grayer, more sickly light.
-And the high, gracefully-curved membrane of the bat's ribbed wing
-arched above them like the bizarre rigging of the junks that ply the
-Martian canals between the ruins of Phreer and Sumph-Logan. Black, with
-veins of dried blood, it caught the wind and tautened like the black
-sails of ancient pirate craft.
-
-But though they could fight the monsters that flew and swam about them
-they could not fight the sea itself. The sea is cunning. It can bide
-its time, and spring with more violence than the greatest beast. The
-wind was its ally.
-
-It was late the following afternoon that Mahra's hypersensitive nerves
-detected the distant pounding of the surf against high crags. They both
-visualized the dark mountains of Maghrone where the dull spires and
-minarets of Anghore towered up from its granite sea wall thousands of
-feet into the mist.
-
-The thunderous surf grew in volume to a steady roaring as their
-makeshift craft bore them shoreward.
-
-Then, abruptly, Moljar's nostrils quivered. He leaped to his feet and
-his black mane matted and curled as his eyes strained upward. "The
-cloud layers," he said. "Look!"
-
-Each cloud layer was moving rapidly in different directions. "A storm!"
-cursed Moljar. "The wind and sea will pulp us on the rocks!"
-
-Mahra cowered down, clutching at the floor of the raft. One hand
-gripped the bone mast of the bat's wing. She reached up the other, and
-Moljar's broad yellow hand closed over it, and held it in a silent bond.
-
-The sound of the descending storm came from afar. It rose higher and
-higher, reaching the pitch of a thousand shrieking giants. A colossal
-comber bore toward them, lifting up, and up. Their eyes followed its
-curling summit, helpless, bold pygmies. A wall of blue, foaming with
-white like a mad beast, translucent as they saw it towering up through
-the swirling vapor. Then it collapsed over them.
-
-Moljar's hand gripped hers. A vise that all the frenzied pounding of
-the ocean could not break. As the tons of water crushed them down,
-shattered the raft, hurled it away like chaff, their hands were locked.
-Their ears rang. Their minds cried out and were smothered. Coughing,
-blinded, they were absorbed by the sea.
-
-
-                                  III
-
-The desert tribes of Mars cling to ancient superstitions. When a
-warrior dies, his body can only go on to Khles. A grotesque land of
-trial by brute strength by which the victorious can move upward through
-succeeding plains, and finally into the fairer lands of Perlarh.
-
-So when Moljar's battered consciousness returned somewhat, his cracked
-lips whispered it gently, with awe. "Khles ... Khles ... Khles...."
-Then he snapped open his burning eyes.
-
-He was on his side on harsh gravel and grey sand. The sea, calm and
-glassy again, washed gently at his sandaled feet. He stiffened his
-aching legs, and a lassitude went through him, like one might imagine
-upon awakening from death. He raised his right hand and the brilliant,
-sentient aliveness of the yellow stone caught the filtered Venusian
-morning, and momentarily blinded him. He shifted his eyes and saw that
-he still gripped Mahra's hand.
-
-Her long smooth body, bruised and lacerated and encrusted with salt,
-breathed with a slow, erratic rhythm. Her other arm lay across her high
-firm breasts and her slim fingers rested on his forearm.
-
-He turned his head up the beach. It might well have been the
-hell-lands of Khles that towered there. The smooth sloping expanse of
-gray sand ended sharply in a wall of granite, cracked and hoary with
-age. It went straight upward, higher than Moljar could see.
-
-The girl groaned, raised on an elbow. He turned. They looked silently
-at each other a moment, before turning their eyes back to the colossal
-sea wall. Simultaneously their eyes caught the broad towering gate of
-dull black metal.
-
-"Anghore," she whispered.
-
-His hand dug into the sand. His lips were thin lines of dark wire. "It
-is magic," he said. "Even the gods are prejudiced against half-breeds,
-or I'd say they lent their strength to ours."
-
-"Only evil gods would guide us to this place," she said.
-
-"We have our gods who are not known exactly for benevolence. Lumphoor.
-Ghyx."
-
-Moljar climbed stiffly to his feet and lifted Mahra. They stretched
-sore, wrenched muscles. They ate the ample meat from the many types of
-shells strewing the beach, and all the time they had been eyeing the
-giant, formidable barrier. Then, with silent accord, they walked up to
-it and stood dwarfed before it.
-
-"You can leave me here," said Moljar. "I have pledged. I must return to
-kill Alhone. But you are free."
-
-"In this jungle? Free for death! I'll stick a while longer, half-breed."
-
-Her hand crept into his as he raised the yellow ring-key. A faint
-humming, a hollow metallic clang, and the gates slid to either side
-into their granite walls.
-
-They stepped through into a massive cavern. A cold maw of twilight,
-green haze and smooth arching walls veined with ruby red and gold.
-Mahra cried out softly, and Moljar cursed as the two giant furred male
-Anghorians ran toward them.
-
-Each wore a long straight sword and a slender dagger at his side. Their
-pink cat-faces masked cold, sadistic evil. Alien. One reached out a
-paw-like hand at Mahra. His almost lipless mouth slid open, and the
-incongruous whining speech mewed its travesty of human tones.
-
-"This woman has not been called. She does not belong here." He turned
-to his fellow. "Take her to the Matrix. Ghils is experimenting with
-the seventh plain. She will be useful there."
-
-"You are to come with me," he said, turning to Moljar.
-
-The half-breed's hand rested on his dagger. He had fallen instinctively
-into a half-crouch. "How did you know I was coming here?"
-
-"You will learn many things about Anghore. You have much to learn."
-
-"I'm stubborn about my subjects, and my instructors," growled Moljar.
-And, as the other Anghorian stepped toward Mahra, Moljar leaped at his
-throat.
-
-As his left hand clutched the corded body, his right hand whipped the
-cat man's dagger free. It rested harshly now against the furred man's
-broad silken chest.
-
-"Do not touch the girl," he warned in the small pointed ear.
-
-The other catman said evenly, "A dangerous act. But excusable. You have
-not yet learned the formalities of Anghore." He moved in a blinding
-blur of speed. Mahra gasped, as his body streaked across her vision
-like a flash of light.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Moljar went back. The catman thudded against him. His head cracked
-against the stone wall, and the red tint of the glowing stones deepened
-to a more personal crimson. He cursed harshly. These catmen could move!
-Shaking the dimness from his head, he tried to grip the Anghorian's
-writhing body. His dagger raised and fell, but only found hard stone.
-He blinked, trying to clear his eyes of fog, and his own blood.
-
-He heard Mahra's savage, despairing yells, and caught a glance of her
-struggling in the other catman's corded arms. He heaved upward. The
-catman flew off him like a filthy conscience. Moljar flattened against
-the wall, his dagger crossed before him.
-
-And when the catman leaped again, the half-breed was prepared. His
-clearing vision focused this time on its feral darting movements, and
-he met that pink snarling face with a long right slash. The pink face
-crunched, smeared. The big body sheared around, buckled, plunged down.
-It twitched, and its paws swept about searching for Moljar. Moljar
-kicked the face until the body stopped moving.
-
-The other Anghorian released the girl. He drew his sword and eased
-toward Moljar.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-A voice said with cruel, morbid interest, "Bring the half-breed to me
-alive, Akare. Or you will accompany the girl to the seventh plain."
-
-Involuntarily, Moljar yelled, "Princess Alhone!"
-
-Whining, squealing laughter echoed through the vaulted cavern. Baffled,
-the barbarian whirled around searching for the voice. It seemed without
-source.
-
-"Alhone," he said again desperately. "You here! How?"
-
-The gloating laughter again. "I have never left Anghore, mighty Moljar,
-since it was built for me. You and all the other fools outside Anghore
-have seen only my projections. You are foolish to fight now. Allow
-Akare to bring you to me. Leave the freak girl. I wait."
-
-"Wait," said Moljar. "The girl stays with me."
-
-There was a long painful pause before the Princess Alhone spoke again.
-"You have passed the many tests that only a few survive."
-
-"Tests?" said Moljar.
-
-"The Red Moon Games are but testing grounds. The survivors become my
-warriors here. You are welcome, Moljar. You will be the greatest among
-them. But this--this girl has signed herself away to the seventh plain
-by entering here. You had better accept this compromise, Moljar. You
-have much to gain. Otherwise, both of you will go to the seventh plain
-together. I would hate to lose you, Moljar. I would make you a Jehlak
-of my Guards. Forget the girl. Accept. You will be far greater than
-those who have scorned you. They will be your slaves."
-
-He hesitated, then said, "I am Moljar. I only compromise when it
-pleases me. The girl stays with me. I care nothing for your plains,
-whatever they are. Send us to the seventh, the thousandth. It means
-nothing to Moljar."
-
-The voice mewed merciless laughter. "Your rugged independence has
-ended, half-breed. You can be overpowered instantly by any one of many
-of our energy weapons. There is much duelling here, so, by decree, only
-swords are worn. Otherwise my warriors would soon decimate themselves.
-But for stubborn aliens we have other methods."
-
-"Is talk and crazy laughter one of them?" said Moljar. "I am not
-impressed."
-
-He turned. His eyes sought Mahra's. She stood proud and tall, her
-breasts moving with controlled breathing. Only her eyes held deep,
-crawling fear. Here was dirty mystery. Alhone and her minions who had
-watched the Red Moon slaughters--a three-dim projection from her eyrie
-here at Anghore. He remembered again that all her public appearances
-had been surrounded by the blue glow. His brains spun. He shook his
-blood-encrusted hair.
-
-His decision was a natural projection of his own character. He could
-not have acted otherwise. He moved in a sudden leap sidewise. One
-arm encircled the startled catman's neck. The Anghorian could have
-eluded him, and offered battle. But he had not. Apparently he awaited
-direction from Alhone. He held his dagger to the quivering side. The
-fur was silky, soft beneath his fingers, inviting violence.
-
-He raised his head and shouted, "Moljar waits. Does the girl stay with
-me? We will die before we part."
-
-The voice was a petulant whine now. "Fool. You will not die. You are
-here to serve me. I am not served by corpses."
-
-Akare made a quick, lightning-like jerk from Moljar's grasp. The
-half-breed sank his dagger in to the hilt, ripped sidewise. Then he
-leaped away, covering the girl against the wall. A stream of bright
-thin blood spurted from Akare's pulsing side as he crawled toward the
-far side of the cavern, mewing with pain.
-
-Mahra's hands clutched Moljar's shoulders as they crouched against the
-coruscating colors of the veined granite. Her breath came in short,
-jerking gusts. "For a half-breed," she breathed, "you have honor."
-
-Her hands stiffened, dug into his skin. Moljar's hair bristled on his
-neck. Intuitively, he raised his dagger, though it was a useless, silly
-gesture now.
-
-From the far side of the cavern, moving ghost-like from a massive
-opening, a dense vaporous sphere floated toward him. It eddied and
-pulsed, and in its center was the dim outline of a human shape encased
-in plastic, its head helmeted by a faint glowing light.
-
-"A Mistman!" Mahra gasped. "Moljar...."
-
-The half-breed had no time to think. Capture or death would find him
-moving, though there seemed no hope in it.
-
-A yellow beam of light slashed outward from the man in the sphere.
-Moljar dropped beneath it. But it caught the girl full. His eyes saw
-her stiffen into a hard stone mannikin and tumble forward. From his
-hands and knees he sprang upward like a maddened beast, straight toward
-the pulsing heart of the Mistman's vaporous shell.
-
-There was one rending burst of pain. Then an explosion that seemed
-to shatter his brain. Its million floating fragments drifted through
-blackness.
-
-
-                                  IV
-
-He was aware of low chanting rhythms, the blood heating throb of
-unknown instruments. He stirred and found himself wallowing in a bed of
-incredible depth and softness. Heady scents that twisted his soul with
-sweet pain floated across his face, and his wild barbarian heart was
-instinctively repelled by the suggestion of sensual, soft decadence.
-
-When he opened his eyes, oscillating lights bathed him in
-sense-drunkening sweetness that sickened even as it lured. He turned
-his head. A boudoir out of the abyss of a drug dream. Black drapes
-littered with flashing jewels. A black floor that seemed to undulate
-with sentient life, mosaicked in red veins. Weirdly-plumaged birds with
-serpent's heads hissed in a golden cage.
-
-And Alhone stood by his couch and sang to him.
-
-When she spoke, her voice had been unpleasantly whiny and shrill. But
-now, singing the dissonant cries of some alien song, it was high and
-piercingly sweet like a violin's cry. Small furred breasts rose and
-fell gently as she sang. Lithe hips swayed. Her cat's eyes searched his
-with a cruel dreaminess, and, for him, there was no malice there.
-
-Small, delicate, fine-limbed monster from an alien hell. At her command
-thousands had died horribly during the Red Moon Games. Trampled,
-drained of blood, shredded by talons, poisoned by fangs, tortured,
-flayed and inflicted with unspeakable indignities worse than pain. Yet
-she possessed the sadist's love of beauty, of decadent riches, luxury,
-sensual surroundings, and love.
-
-He arose with one fluid motion and faced her. His body had been bathed
-and scented with perfumed oils. His trappings were new, the grey
-leather of the Anghorians. A long sword swung at his side.
-
-"The Mistmen are yours," he said. "And this has all been a trap to get
-me here?"
-
-"Yes. You are mine now, as are all the others. We have ways here to
-control the heart and the mind of those who are not quite willing to
-accept me. I have employed these methods often."
-
-He inhaled deeply. His chest swelled. And a wave of almost overpowering
-ecstasy swept him in a surging tide of passion. How many years he had
-waited for this one supreme, delectable moment of revenge!
-
-And now he was alone with her. And there was nothing to stand in his
-way. Or was there? She was no fool. She must have protection. He could
-see nothing.
-
-His eyes clouded as he looked at her. That haughty body would soon
-writhe and scream under his hands. And before she died she would know
-the full meaning of torture.
-
-But first he would learn the nature of this mystery. "Where is Mahra?"
-he said. "And what is the seventh plain?"
-
-"Our scientists call them plains," she ignored the first question. "But
-they are really worlds coexistent with this one. We have explored six
-of these worlds. This, Venus, is the sixth. I and my kind came here
-from the second."
-
-Moljar blinked. His barbarian mind was quick to accept the strange and
-the marvelous. It was not at all unbelievable that these Anghorians
-had come not only from another world, but from another dimension of
-existence. A coexistent world. It was only unexpected.
-
-"All matter and all chronosophy are one and concomitant," she said.
-She swayed toward him. "Our scientists perfected the Matrix which can
-synthesize matter to any of these various worlds or plains. It changes
-the consistency of the atom, much as a lens magnifies objects to fit
-the perspective of your eye."
-
-No longer able to control himself, Moljar stepped to meet her, flexing
-his hands and trembling violently. She must not get suspicious until it
-was too late. Until he had her between his hands.
-
-"And why do you stay on Venus? Why do you kill us, and ravish this
-world?"
-
-"My world was drab, colorless, uninteresting. It was so dull there.
-Our civilization destroyed the past which was lawless and exciting. I
-came here. And from the Red Moon Games I have gathered about me here
-at Anghore all the greatest warriors in the System. It was wise of me,
-do you not think so, Moljar? The planets themselves helped me. Terra
-and Mars weeded out the best by isolating the half-breeds and mutants.
-Then out of these, I select the very best, by a process of elimination
-during the Red Moon Games. From the best among the survivors of the
-Games I choose the Mistmen. And from the Mistmen I choose you, Moljar,
-to rule by my side. The Mistmen can conquer the Universe."
-
-"Many have dreamed of such a conquest," said Moljar.
-
-"This is no dream. We have inexhaustible power on our side. Weapons we
-can unleash that would stun the System into passive madness. Defense
-they have no conception of. And, if we had to, we could fight from the
-vantage of other plains of being, of which the dullards of the Solar
-Worlds have no concept, though these countless worlds flourish all
-about them. Work by my side, Moljar."
-
-"Why me?" said the half-breed. "I am not of your kind."
-
-"No Anghorian could stand against you with equal weapons, Moljar. The
-best of two worlds flows in your veins. Your heart is metal fibre, and
-your brain has never known fear. Nor could it ever understand defeat.
-There is no other who could stand by your side. And when I tire of the
-empire we shall build, and move on to other plains of entertainment,
-you may stay and rule. You can be King of a Universe, Moljar."
-
-"None of which is so important as keeping my pledge," said Moljar. He
-clutched at her slim, throbbing throat, but again he had forgotten the
-extra-system origin of these non-humans. Her body was an unspringing
-coil. She landed lightly ten feet away. A high piercing shriek of
-frenzied rage and frustration sputtered from her pink, snarling face.
-
-"Savage!" she finally said as he came toward her. "You have gone too
-far!"
-
-"Not far enough yet," said Moljar. He leaped after her. She eluded him
-as he dodged after her doggedly. She sprang this way and that like a
-forest cat. And finally she stopped and her fingers briefly touched the
-wall. Panels slid noiselessly apart.
-
-"You asked about the girl," she spat. "Look!"
-
-Moljar froze. There was a square there revealed. A mass of electronic
-equipment. Parts were vaguely familiar, but over-all arrangement
-completely beyond the grasp of his barbaric desert mind. Within a
-column of light, stood Mahra, looking at him. Fine glowing filaments
-imprisoned her.
-
-Somehow, through the weirdly glowing strands that would send her into
-some hellish land only Alhone could name, she managed a wan smile.
-Beyond the glowing filaments, grey-furred catmen moved dials and
-studied gauges and charts.
-
-"Wait!" cried Alhone's grotesque mewing face. "Turn off the matrix
-power. Do not send the girl yet. Moljar wishes to accompany her to
-hell!"
-
-
-                                   V
-
-The three catmen complied without comment. They apparently were highly
-specialized brains, incapable of normal reaction. Their faces reflected
-mechanical minds, specially bred, unemotional. Moljar's narrowed eyes
-followed the motions of one as he turned dials. The light faded from
-around the girl. The filaments faded to a rusty brown. Mahra's eyes
-turned, looked directly into Alhone's. A shiver went through Moljar at
-the strange glow that emanated from them.
-
-Clanking of steel spun him around. The Anghorians whom Alhone had
-summoned were crashing into the small room, and Moljar sprang to meet
-them. His sword whipped free, darted, an invisible arc. He killed the
-first one who came within reach before the Anghorian's sword could
-move, his straight blade splitting the pink skull.
-
-He saw one raise a peculiar looking device like an electro-gun, though
-smaller. He heard Alhone's shrill cry, "Swords only! I would watch him
-fight once again. Before he goes away."
-
-Others joined the Anghorians. Martians. Terrans. Half-breeds. Their
-eyes were dull, and they fought without heart.
-
-Moljar sidestepped a thrust, even as he parried one slash, and slipped
-under a third. His black eyes glittered like a basilisk's and his lips
-froze in the Martian tribal smile without mercy.
-
-His sword darted past a blade that sought to parry. It sheathed a foot
-of its length in a Martian's belly. He gasped agonizedly and went to
-his knees. And another, a Terran, swept past him, lunging savagely,
-raining blow on blow so furiously that Moljar countered only with
-superhuman effort. He retreated warily before the cursing, sweating,
-yammering warriors, coolly parrying thrusts and strokes and watching
-for his chances to kill. When possible he kept articles of furniture
-between him and his attackers, while his sword circled, fluid light.
-
-They were dying one by one. Moljar sensed something wrong. Why? Surely
-Alhone had seen enough of this final exhibition. Soon it would be too
-much. Already only two of her Guards remained. And they were wary, not
-aggressive, playing for time. They were waiting for Alhone's order to
-employ their energy weapons. But as he charged in, flailing, slashing,
-she was withholding that order. Why?
-
-Moljar parried one wild catman's blade easily and, on the rebound,
-felt his sword crunch, saw the catman fall to the side with his neck
-cut half through. But move though he might, he was too late to defend
-himself completely against the second and remaining Guard. He parried
-slightly, the sword struck a glancing blow across his head, and bit
-deep into his shoulder. A red mist gathered over his eyes. He lifted
-his blade like heavy metal, very slowly it seemed, saw it sink as
-slowly into the Terran's skull. It stuck there. Moljar, through a
-welter of sweat and blood, tried to withdraw it as the dead man sank
-down to his knees. But his weight pulled the sword, gently, it seemed,
-from Moljar's nerveless fingers.
-
-He turned and lurched toward the Matrix. The scientists were standing
-in shocked frozen stances. The filaments about Mahra's body were still
-cold. Her strangely bright eyes remained fixed on Alhone's. Moljar
-staggered around, shaking his head, fighting the whirling darkness that
-threatened to choke out the light.
-
-The Princess Alhone's eyes were wide, staring, as though hypnotized.
-Her body was leaning forward in a taut arc. Her hands were spread
-outward as though attempting to ward off some invisible power. Her
-mouth was open, twisting, but only faint unintelligent gibberish
-spattered out. But there was still a mad fanatic fire as she sprang at
-him, her taloned paws outspread, slashing at his face. He scooped up a
-long sword as she screamed.
-
-"The Matrix! Turn it on and go. Send the girl to hell alone!"
-
-He swung her arms aside, agony lancing his bleeding shoulder. As she
-twisted off balance, he wrapped one arm about her, and swung her off
-her feet, just as another detail of Guards hurtled toward him.
-
-"Tell them to get out," he said. "Or I'll kill you."
-
-She knew he would anyway, but she preferred less immediacy. He lifted
-his other arm, thrust the dripping sword point against her breast. She
-coughed something from her straining throat, and the Guards retreated
-hastily. The panel closed behind them.
-
-"Tell your scientists--" he began, and stopped as her mewing laughter
-interrupted him.
-
-He looked into the Matrix. The filaments were glowing purple. But the
-scientists were gone! He dragged Alhone's writhing body after him into
-the mass of equipment. A gigantic maze of meaningless tubes, wires,
-bulbs, dials, buttons and switches and coils. He cursed blindly. He
-could not turn off the Matrix!
-
-"Mahra! Mahra!" Her body was faintly stirring beyond the now singing
-and vibrating filaments.
-
-Between peals of piercing whistling laughter, Alhone was shrieking,
-"She will go to the seventh plain! The she-devil!"
-
-Moljar could destroy the Matrix, but only a burning cataclysm could
-result from such an act. At least, even in the seventh plain, she would
-be alive for awhile, and perhaps he could bring her back.
-
-Mahra was on her knees, now on her feet, swaying. She turned. Moljar
-flinched. Those eyes. They blazed, and held. She had gone mad. With
-a savage roar of pent up blind hot rage, Moljar clutched Alhone's
-neck and began squeezing it slowly. All his suppressed hate, his
-frustration, the years and perils of his long, long quest, his longing
-for revenge, was in the terrible strength of his fingers ... but,
-without any logical reason, a thought entered his mind, restrained his
-hands ... a faint far sound, but one of screaming urgency....
-
-_Don't, Moljar. Let her live._
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-He sobbed in frustrated rage. It was deviltry. He tried again to
-squeeze that throbbing neck, but his fingers remained frozen. Then the
-mental voice in his brain repeated, _Let her live, Moljar. This is
-Mahra. Let her live. She knows the Matrix. Mahra...._
-
-He staggered back, blinking, shaking his head. He dropped Alhone. Her
-body thudded on the crimsoned floor. She raised up stiffly, her eyes
-staring widely, her arms trembling. She walked stonily to the Matrix
-and turned a dial. The Matrix's shrill humming, now almost beyond his
-auditory range, died slowly as the glow of the filaments faded.
-
-Alhone adjusted some other part of the complex panel. The filamented
-threads lifted slowly until Mahra could crawl beneath them. She ran
-sobbing, and Moljar took her easily into the folds of his red dripping
-arms.
-
-Alhone had turned. She looked at Mahra with that indescribable hatred
-burning a raw-edged flame in her eyes.
-
-"So you mutants, some of you anyway, are telepathic. That is why the
-Normals fear you so. I am helpless here. Now. There is nothing for
-me to do but escape." Her hands spun dials as she talked. "I go to
-whatever plain waits my pleasure. I am tired of this one." She looked
-at Moljar through veiled eyes. "I have seen all I can see here."
-
-While the filament threads dropped down, she ran beneath them. They
-began to glow, rapidly now, for the last time.
-
-"I won't let her escape me now," said Moljar. "Even if we have to die
-with her." He hurled his heavy long sword directly into the blazing
-heart of the Matrix.
-
-There was a crackling, then a thunderous growing roar of stupendous
-unleashed power. A blinding, glaring explosion sent Mahra and Moljar
-hurtling backward. Stunned, they staggered to their feet, supporting
-each other, groped for the panel out of the room.
-
-A globe of burning white energy was expanding rapidly, eating up wall
-and metal and air with thirsting ferocity.
-
-It devoured its own base and plummeted downward through the towering
-heights of Anghore. Burning, blasting, eating, destroying. It ate
-straight down into the bowels of the Venus beneath the Mountains of
-Maghrone.
-
-Through the trembling, smoking chaos, the tottering ruins of Anghore,
-Moljar and Mahra blindly fought their way. The towering gateway was
-blasted as though by a tremendous electronic charge; they ran through
-the cavern and over the twisted gates and far up the beach of grey sand
-before they finally paused, panting, and looked back.
-
-Anghore was a smoke-belching crater. A thundering volcano of burning
-energy.
-
-They stood breast to breast, looking at each other. Half-breed and
-mutant. Outcasts. Scourged. Excluded and estranged. The hated and
-feared. Her eyes half-closed beneath his. Her lips parted slightly, and
-her body was soft.
-
-"No wonder the Terran Normals are so fearful of you mutants," said
-Moljar. "The rumors are true. You can control minds!"
-
-She nodded, eyes still almost closed. "Some of us can, sometimes. It
-isn't easy."
-
-"Then why do you not rule them? If you can."
-
-"If we feel like it, maybe we shall. Some day. When the time is right.
-Besides, we only want to rule those who deserve to be ruled."
-
-His arms tightened. She submitted with a strange, eager smile to the
-pressure of his muscles. "Well," he said softly. "Is the time right?
-And do I deserve the honor?"
-
-Against his, her lips answered.
-
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