Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Amazing Stories January, February, March
1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed.
The Table of Contents is not part of the original magazines
[Illustration: They were bent upon rapine and slaughter--and what
greater prize than the Queen herself?]
QUEST OF THE GOLDEN APE
By IVAR JORGENSEN and ADAM CHASE
_How could this man awaken with no past--no childhood--no
recollection except of a vague world of terror from which
his mother cried out for vengeance and the slaughter of his
own people stood as a monument of infamy?_
* * * * *
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I Mansion of Mystery
II The Great Clock of Tarth
III The Man in the Cavern
IV John Pride's Story
V Question Upon Question
VI On the Plains of Ofrid
VII The White God
VIII The Brown Virgin
IX In Custody
X The Road to Nadia
XI On the Ice Fields of Nadia
XII Volna the Beautiful
XIII The Journey of No Return
XIV Land Beyond the Stars
XV The Golden Ape
XVI The Raging Beast
XVII The Prison Without Bars
* * * * *
CHAPTER I
_Mansion of Mystery_
In a secluded section of a certain eastern state which must remain
nameless, one may leave the main highway and travel up a winding road
around tortuous bends and under huge scowling trees, into wooded
country.
Upon a certain night--the date of which must remain vague--there came
a man who faced and was not turned back by a series of psychological
barriers along this road which made it more impregnable than a steel
wall. These barriers, which had kept out a hundred years of
curiosity-seekers until that certain night, were forged by the
scientific magic of a genius on a planet far beyond the sun....
The man who boldly followed his headlights up the road was of middle
age with calm, honest eyes and a firm mouth indicating bargains made
in his name would be kept. He pushed on, feeling the subtle force of
the psychological powers against him but resisting because he vaguely
understood them.
He left his car presently and raised his hand to touch the hard
outline of a small book he carried in his breast pocket and with the
gesture his determination hardened. He set his jaw firmly, snapped on
the flashlight he had taken from the dash of his convertible and moved
on up the road.
His firm, brisk steps soon brought him to its end, a great iron gate,
its lock and hinges rusted tight under the patient hand of Time. It
was high and spiked and too dangerous for climbing. But someone had
smashed the lock with a heavy instrument and had applied force until
the rusted hinges gave and the gate stood partially open. From the
look of the metal, this could have been done recently--even in the
past few minutes.
* * * * *
The man entered and found a flagstone pathway. He followed this for a
time with the aid of his flashlight. Then he stopped and raised the
beam.
It revealed the outline of a great stone mansion, its myriad windows
like black, sightless eyes, its silent bulk telling of long solitude,
its tongueless voice whispering: _Go away, stranger. Only peril and
misfortune await you here._
But I am not exactly a stranger, the man told himself, approaching the
door and half hoping to find the scowling panel locked.
But it was not locked. The ponderous knob turned under his hand. The
panel moved back silently. The man gripped his flashlight and stepped
inside.
The knowledge that he was no longer alone came as a shock. It was
brought to him by the sound of labored breathing and he flashed the
light about frantically trying to locate the source of the harsh
sound. Then the bright circle picked out a huddled form on the floor
nearby. The man moved forward instantly and went to his knees.
He was looking into an incredibly ancient face. The skin was so deeply
lined as to hang in folds around the sunken eyes. The mouth was but a
toothless maw and the body so shrunken as to seem incapable of
clinging to life. The voice was a harsh whisper.
"Thank God you have come. I am dying. The opening of the gate took all
my remaining strength."
"You have been waiting for me?"
"I have been waiting out the years--striving to keep life in my body
until the moment of destiny. I wanted to see _him_. I wanted to be
there when the door to his resting place opens and he comes forth to
right the terrible wrongs that have been done our people."
The strength of the ancient one was ebbing fast. The words he spoke
had been an effort. The kneeling man said, "I don't understand all
this."
"That matters not. It is important only that you keep the bargain made
long ago with your sire, and that you are here. Someone must be with
_him_ at the awakening."
The newcomer again touched the book in his pocket. "I came because our
word had been given--"
The dying man picked feebly at his sleeve. "Please! You must go below!
The great clock has measured the years. Soon it tolls the moment. Soon
a thundering on the Plains of Ofrid will herald the new age--the
Fighting Age--and a new day will dawn."
While the visitor held his frail shoulders, the dying man gasped and
said, "Hasten! Hurry to the vault below! Would that I could go with
you, but that is not to be."
And then the visitor realized he was holding a corpse in his arms. He
laid it gently down and did as he had been directed to do.