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diff --git a/old/64214-0.txt b/old/64214-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d87a282..0000000 --- a/old/64214-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1749 +0,0 @@ -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. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRINCESS OF CHAOS *** - -***** This file should be named 64214-0.txt or 64214-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/2/1/64214/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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