The Judging of the Priestess
By NELSON S. BOND
Out of future Mexico the Japcans came,
invading Jinnia. And Meg, the priestess,
faced dual judgment as she brought Daiv,
her man, back to the tribe.
In these latter years of the 35th Century, Mount Rushmore, with its
colossal statues of Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Theodore
Roosevelt was known to the superstitious tribeswomen as "the Place
of the Gods." From a pilgrimage to this holy spot (where she had
met Daiv and learned the great secret that the Ancient Ones were
Men) Meg was returning. (_"The Priestess Who Rebelled," Amazing
Stories, October, 1939._)--Ed.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Fantastic Adventures April 1940.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Behind them the sun sank lazily, a huge, lop-sided ball of fire
too-bright-to-be-looked-at, and the gathering fingers of dusk stole
softly through the trees, casting wan shadows where they touched. The
air was thin and cold with the breath of approaching night; imps of
darkness lurked in the tree-roots and hollows.
But Meg felt no fear. She was alive with warmth, light, happiness. The
hills about her were soft-bosomed and gay with autumn's garments; no
longer was the landscape salt and drear as it had been back there in
the 'Kota territory, in the Place of the Gods. This was her homeland,
her native Jinnia. Beyond that turn was a rill, a half day's march
beyond the rill lay the village of her own tribeswomen....
From her seat astride Nessa, she looked down upon Daiv, her Man, and
her voice was vibrant with happiness.
"We are almost there, Daiv! Soon you will meet my people, talk with
them, learn to love them as I do."
Daiv smiled at her dubiously.
"That I am prepared to do, Golden One. I can't help wondering, though,
how they will accept me. After what you've told me about the Men of
your tribe--" He shook his head.
Meg made a happy-sound deep in her throat; slipped from Nessa's back
and covered Daiv's lips with her hands.
"There is nothing to fear, Daiv. The Men of my Clan--_pah!_--they are
not like you. They are weak things, meant only for breeding. The Mother
will know, the moment she sees you, that you are one like the Gods. She
too made the pilgrimage. She will rejoice and be glad. And--" Meg moved
closer into the circle of his arms. "She will be gladder still when she
sees our happiness."
"I hope so," said Daiv soberly. His lips met hers in the
touching-of-mouths that he had taught her. Then, "But it is too late
for us to finish our journey today," he said. "We must find a place to
make camp."
"Just beyond the turn," Meg told him excitedly. "I know every inch
of this country, Daiv. When I was young, and studying under the Mother
to become a Priestess of the Clan, I used to ride out here to seek
solitude and the guidance of the Gods. Just beyond the turn there is
forest and a small stream. This is an ancient land, my lover; the trees
are mighty and strong. But--" Her eyes found his adoringly. "But not so
mighty and strong as you."
Daiv said, "Now, Golden One!" reprovingly, but Meg felt happy-crinkles
in her heart as she saw the way he drew back his shoulders to lead the
way into the forest. She did not mount Nessa again, but walked behind
Daiv, leading the tamed and captive doe by its bridle.
* * * * *
Nessa had been Daiv's gift to her, a mount to take the place of the
horse Meg had lost on her way to the Place of the Gods when the Wild
One had attacked her. "A wedding gift," Daiv had called it--which did
not make sense. But, then, Daiv was always saying strange things. That
was, Meg thought, a trifle awefully, because he came from Kirki, which
was a holy place far to the southland, near the Land of the Escape. His
tribespeople were direct descendants of those Ancient Ones who, long
ages ago, had fled from Earth to the evening star in the bowels of a
metal bird that spat fire.[1]
[Footnote 1: In the 20th Century a tiny group of scientists, laboring
under the direction of Dr. Frazier Wrenn, escaped the holocaust of war
that bathed civilization by fleeing to the planet Venus in the first
spaceship. Their rocketdrome was in the desertlands of Arizona. (_"The
Fugitives from Earth," Amazing Stories, December, 1939._)--Ed.]
Daiv's skill had captured Nessa, wild woodland doe, but Meg's
gentleness had tamed her. She had borne Meg across all these foreign
territories; through Braska and Zurrie, to the blue-shining fields of
Tucky; now, at last, back to Meg's beloved Jinnia.
It had been a long journey and a strange one. Many things had Meg
seen; curiosities that would thrill the Women of her Clan to startled,
"Aiees!" of astonishment when she told of them. She had seen the long,
straight roads built by the Ancient Ones; their smooth _creet_ now
cracked and worn but still easier to travel than the tortuous woodland
paths. She had seen the remnants of a gigantic _hoam_ called Sinnaty,
where once had lived a great folk called "the Reds." She and Daiv
had lingered for three days with the tribeswomen of Loovil (whose
Mother knew the Mother of Meg's Clan, and had sent greetings and gifts
of ripe, fragrant bacca); there had they seen an antique statue of a
horse-god named Manowah.
They had even--Meg thrilled at the recollection--slept in one of
the traditional oaken _hoams_ peculiar to the Tucky folk; dwellings
immortalized in the Tucky tribal song, "--sing one song of my oaken
Tucky _hoam_--"
And, "It is such a great land, Daiv!" Meg had said one night, lying
sleepless and excited over the wonders she had seen that day. "Such
a great land, this Tizathy! How I wish I had lived in it when the
Ancient Ones had welded it all together."
"A great land, indeed," was Daiv's answer. "But what did you call it?
Tizathy?"
"Yes," explained Meg. "That was its name. One of the ancient songs
tells of it. 'My country, Tizathy; sweet land of liberty--'"
Daiv looked at her with vast respect. "Someday we must visit my people,
Golden One. The elders of my tribe will want to talk to you. You have
such great learning...."
But now, at last, their journey was over. Jinnia's sweet green hills
cradled them; tomorrow they would join and touch hands with Meg's
sisters. Tonight they would sleep in the little forest Meg knew so
well....
Daiv turned, an unfamiliar wrinkle-look on his forehead. "Golden One,
didn't you say we were coming to forest land?"
"Yes, Daiv. Right before you. There--"
Then Meg was at his side, and her eyes were round with wonderment.
"But--but this is not right!" she cried.
It was no forest that confronted them. Where Meg's memory had told
her would be a riotous jungle of intertwining green, great trees that
brushed the heavens, high archways of leaves and thick-boled woodland
monarchs, there was nothing but a vast and desolate plain, strewn with
bristling twigs!
Stark and severe was that glade, swept bare of all vegetation save
these thousands upon countless thousands of twigs. No grass, no shrubs,
no flowers. Rough, bare hillside, and ankle-deep--the host of stunted
branches.
* * * * *
"I--I don't understand!" said Meg bewilderedly. She looked at Daiv,
fear suddenly cold in her heart, and she made a magic sign over her
breast to ward away the evil wood ghosts. "This is not as it should be,
Daiv! Something--"
The plain echoed Daiv's boisterous happy-sound.
"Something tells me," he chuckled, "you've made a mistake, Golden One.
So you know every inch of this country, eh? Well--" He shrugged. "It is
a cloudless night. And plain or forest, this is as good a place as any
to make camp. Get water, Meg, for the cawfee, and I will build a fire."
Silently, with a sun-heat burning her cheeks, Meg moved to the rill and
got water. Then, as silently again, she returned to the spot Daiv had
designated. By this time she expected he would have made fire-sparks
with a rock and the bit of flame-metal he carried in his pouch--but to
her great surprise, no crackling blaze awaited her.
Instead, Daiv was standing upright beside one of the branched twigs
that festooned the plain. There was an angry-look on his face;
perspiration dripped from his forehead and his throat. The look he
turned to her was red with shame.
"Meg," he began, "Meg--a magic is upon me. I am weak. I have no
strength!"
"Strength, Daiv?"
"Yes. Look!" He bent to the broken branch before him. His strong thighs
tensed; the muscles of his back and shoulders corded with strain. Fresh
perspiration broke from his pores as he strained to lift the tiny twig.
Then his hands, white-knuckled and trembling, lifted clear; he looked
at her again.
"It is so small," he said in a faint, hurt voice. "Yet I cannot lift
it!"
Meg sprang to his side; bent to the twig. She was slim, a pale, golden
shadow beside Daiv, but she was strong. Her hands grasped the rough
bark; she lifted--
And fell forward, thrown completely off balance by that weight
imponderable. Coarse soil rasped her knees, but she did not feel the
pain. All lesser emotions were lost in the swift, superstitious fear
that engulfed her.
"The forest is accursed, Daiv! We must flee!"
Hand in hand they raced wildly across the plain to the shelter of the
woodland at its farther rim. The rays of the dying sun cast their
shadows long before them, and a dry rattle of mirth seemed to rise from
the tangle of unyielding twigs that bruised their feet....
* * * * *
Meg dreamed fear-dreams that night. She was lost in a jungle of trees
hard as bone; as she fled beneath them, these trees groaned and toppled
toward her, their motionless branches clutching like skeletal fingers.
She moaned, cried Daiv's name--then wakened to find him leaning over
her anxiously.
"Meg! Listen!"
In the cool morning the sound carried clearly to Meg's ears. A human
voice, high-pitched in hideous screaming. A hoarse, grating voice. Meg
shuddered.
"A Wild One, Daiv! He has fallen into one of our traps."
"Wild One? Trap?"[2]
[Footnote 2: When womankind, wearying of man's incessant warfare,
finally cast all men save a few breeders from their cities and
established a matriarchal form of government, the men rapidly reverted
to a life of savagery. In Meg's day they were known and hunted as the
"Wild Ones."--Ed.]
"I'll show you." Meg rose swiftly, instantly awake as any forest
animal. Bright morning sun cascaded down upon her, wakening a sister
gleam of gold on her arms and thighs, touching to warm life the tawny
down between her high, proud breasts. Save for the white girdle of
flesh beneath her fur breech-clout, Meg was all gold; her hair, piled
in a loose knot upon her head, was like a shining crown. It was not all
Women, Daiv thought briefly, whose charm withstood the early morning
sun. He was lucky to have found as a mate this slim lance of loveliness.
He hungered for her lips. But he was Daiv--"He-who-would-learn"--and
here was a new mystery. He followed Meg. Meg followed the plaintive
cries.
They stopped, at length, at the lip of a cleft in the earth. It had
formerly been covered over with a webbing of boughs and ferns, but now
that cover was broken, and from the bottom of the pit came the howls
of pain that had drawn them.
Meg's lips were grim, white lines.
"He is in there," she said--and as she spoke she unslung her hunting
bow, slipped a bone-tipped arrow from her quiver. She stepped to the
mouth of the crevice, drew aim. Then--
"Wait, Golden One!"
Daiv swept the weapon from her hands. He looked down into the pit,
cried out sharply, then, ignoring Meg's warning, lowered himself
into it. A moment later he was back again, slipping his burden from
his shoulder. His burden was, as Meg had guessed, a brutish, hairy
Man-thing; foul with the stench of unwashed sweat and grease, grimy
with blood and dirt.
"You were going to kill him!" Daiv accused sternly. "He is a Man,
wounded, and you were going to kill him!"
The priestess said haughtily, "He is not a Man, he is one of the Wild
Ones. Of course I was going to kill him. That is the Law."
"It is a poor Law," grunted Daiv. He was bending over the Wild One now,
cleaning his wounds with handfuls of clean, dried grass. "If the Women
of your tribe build traps like these for Men, I'm not sure I want to
meet them. Aagh! False tops, and sharpened sticks beneath!"
Meg the Priestess disappeared, and in her place stood Meg the wife, a
look of bafflement in her eyes.
"But, Daiv--" Faintly. "You killed one of the Wild Ones yourself. The
first time we met."
"That," said Daiv curtly, "was because he tried to linber you. I wanted
you for myself. There--he's coming around now. How do you feel, Man?
Are you all right?"
The Wild One's eyes were uncomprehending as they saw the golden-limbed
priestess and this strange, hairless Man before him. His bearded lips
parted in a strangled fragment of speech.
"I am ... all right." Then, to Daiv alone, "You ... saved my life!"
Daiv nodded. Thoughts crawled slowly behind the Wild One's eyes; he
reached a decision. From his filthy loin cloth he drew a chipped and
rusted blade; this he offered to Daiv. With the other hand he smoothed
flat the verminous tangle of hair above his heart.
* * * * *
"My life is yours, stranger," he said humbly.
Meg's eyes were wide with astonishment. From infancy she had been
taught that the Wild Ones were mad creatures without mercy, without
human sentiments; beasts that prowled the forests with but two thoughts
in their minds: to satisfy the hungers of their bellies and to kill.
Yet here was a Wild One displaying the civilized emotion of gratitude.
To Daiv she said querulously,
"He must be crazed, Daiv! Let us take him with us to the village. The
tribe Mother will want to see this marvel--a Wild One with a Woman's
instincts."
"He goes free!" said Daiv. He was still curt. He lifted the Wild One to
his feet. "Can you find your fellows, Wild One?" he asked.
The Wild One nodded mutely.
"Then, go!" ordered Daiv. "And be more careful of traps in the future.
Begone!"
But the Wild One hesitated an instant longer. The words came haltingly
from his lips--but they sprang from his heart. "My life is still yours,
Hairless One. Should ever you decide to claim it, you will find me
north of this spot. In a hillside cave by the waterfall...."
Then he was gone; a brutish, gnarled, hairy shadow sliding through the
matted jungle. And to Meg, "Come. Let us find your people," said Daiv.
"I am minded to see what folk would harm poor brutes like that one."
Meg pondered for hours, as they marched those last few miles to her
native village, but she could not quite discover why it was that her
cheeks and throat felt so hot. It was as though the fever-god was
within her, but she knew she was not ill....
And so, finally, she riding upon Nessa's back, Daiv striding before her
on swift, sure feet, they came to Meg's home. To the village of the
Jinnia Clan that was her own.
And again the remembrance of the massive twig and the strange forest
returned, bringing with it a half-fear. It lay uneasily in their minds
like the brooding residue of a dream....
CHAPTER II
The Invaders
The glad word sprang first from the lips of the Warriors who guarded
the gates of the village. "It is Meg! Meg has returned from her
pilgrimage. Tell all!"
It spread to the Workers in the fields; they rose from their labors,
wiping grit-coarsened hands upon their thighs; their eyes brightened.
"Meg has returned!" And the breeding-mothers heard, they lolling their
plump, lush bodies in the sunlit doorways. They heard, and their soft
eyes filled with ready tears; they waddled forward, their bulging hips
swaying like ripened corn. "It is Meg, come back from the Place of the
Gods!"[3]
[Footnote 3: The matriarchal commune was made up of Warriors, Workers
and breeding-mothers, all headed by a learned Mother whose mantle of
leadership was handed down from generation to generation. Upon reaching
maturity, each girl was permitted to choose which branch of service she
should adopt. The Priestess, Meg, was studying to become the Mother of
her Clan; hence her pilgrimage to the Place of the Gods.--Ed.]
The Men, too, heard. They simpered foolishly and rolled their great,
soft eyes and primped their oiled hair. And word reached the tribal
Mother who came from her _hoam_ to meet the Priestess. They met within
the confines of Meg's village; the aged Mother moved to greet Meg with
arms outstretched.
"You are returned safely, my child. May the Gods live forever!"
Meg could not speak for the little happy-imp who clutched her throat
and made water in her eyes. Her hands, tight and hot on the withered
hands of the old Mother, were speech enough. The Mother bent forward
and made a sign upon Meg's forehead.
"You have learned the Great Secret, my daughter; I can tell that by the
look in your eyes. Now you have passed the last barrier between you and
the Motherhood of our Clan. Tonight we will have a great feast; at its
conclusion I will invest you in the ultimate mysteries of your task--"
There was a stir in the crowd surrounding Meg and the Mother; Daiv,
chafing with impatience at being thus ignored, had thrust himself
forward to his wife's side.
"What is this, Meg!" cried the Mother. "Have you turned Warrior as well
as Priestess? Where did you capture this hairless Man-thing?"
Now was the moment Meg had been at once dreading and looking forward
to. She placed her hand proudly within Daiv's, and her voice was the
clarion call of trumpets.
"It is no Man-_thing_, Mother. It is a Man; a real Man such as were the
Gods! Not a scrimping parody like our breeders, nor a foul brute like
the Wild Ones--but a Man. He is Daiv, my mate!"
"_Mate!_" The word leaped not only from the mouth of the Mother; it was
rasped by the Workers and the Warriors, it was piped in the shrill,
frightened quaver of the breeding-mothers. The Mother's eyes clouded.
"Mate, Meg? What madness is this? Surely you know a priestess who would
be a Mother may not mate with a Man!"
Daiv said humbly, yet at the same time pridefully, "So Meg believed,
O Mother, until I taught her differently--and until she learned
the Great Secret at the feet of the Gods. I am Daiv, known as
'He-who-would-learn'; I come from the place of the Escape. My people
live by the Laws of the Ancient Ones. In our land Man and Woman are
equal; we give and take love in the sacred customs of marriage."
Meg wished desperately that Daiv had said nothing. Given time to lead
up to these revelations, she felt she might have presented the argument
more convincingly. But in Daiv's deep voice these truths--which she now
recognized to be truths--sounded like rankest heresies.
And they drew from the assembled listeners the response Meg had feared.
There was the snicking of metal upon metal as the Warriors half-drew
their swords from their scabbards; a low rumble of dissent growled from
the throats of the Workers. The breeding-mothers squealed like stricken
animals, fled with hands covering their ears lest the Gods destroy them
for having heard this impious outburst.
* * * * *
Lora, Chieftain of the Warriors, stepped forward, her lean jaw grim.
"Blasphemy, O Mother! By Tedhi, She-who-laughs, this Man-thing befouls
us with his lies. Shall I strike him down?"
She took a step toward Daiv. Meg cried out, moved between them, turned
beseeching eyes to the Mother. "No! I beg of you, O Mother, no! Look
upon Daiv! Look--and remember that which _you_ saw, many winters ago,
in the Place of the Gods! You know I speak the truth, Mother, and that
Daiv, too, tells that which is so.
"Tell my sisters that this is well; that this is as it should be. _You_
know--"
Jain, Captain of the Workers, shook her head sorrowfully. In a gentle
voice she said, "Our priestess has gone mad, O Mother. The rigors of
the pilgrimage have been too much for her. What is the law? Death for
her, as well as for this hairless Man-thing? Or, having taken herself a
Man, must she become a breeding-mother?"
But the Mother stayed her. There was a faraway look in her eyes; Meg
knew that the aged leader of the Clan was remembering a pilgrimage made
many, many years ago to the Place of the Gods. The Mother, Meg knew,
had once looked upon the majestic figures of Jarg, Ibrim, Taamuz and
Tedhi on their great, rocky promontory at Mount Rushmore and had seen,
as Meg had seen, that the Gods were, in truth, Men like Daiv. A word
from the Mother now....
The Mother spoke. There was infinite sadness in her voice.
"It is the Law," she said, "that none shall strive to change the ways
of the Clan. You, Meg, have ignored the Law. You and your mate will be
given justice."
And she turned away.
A gasp spun Meg's gaze to Daiv. His face was crimson with an
anger-look; great veins throbbed in his forehead. He roared, "Here,
then, is the joyous welcome your Clan offers us, Golden One! Justice?
What kind of justice may we expect from a doddering, thwarted old
harridan--"
"_Daiv!_" screamed Meg.
But her cry broke too late. With one swift gesture Daiv had wrenched
the sword from the hands of Lora. Now he tested its blade, swept Meg
into the circle of his arms, and laughed at the startled clanswomen
defiantly.
"So you would judge a Man?" he taunted. "A Man of the Kirki tribe?
Come, then, you filthy diggers of dirt and loveless scarecrows. Let
your judgment be the matching of my steel against yours!"
There was a tense moment of silence. Then anger, bitter as the fruit
of the simmon tree, flamed in the voices of Meg's sisters. A score of
Warriors sprang forward, swords drawn. At their flank advanced the
Workers, hoes and adzes uplifted. Meg smiled piteously at Daiv and
murmured a swift prayer to the Gods. It was grievous to die thus,
before the blades of loved ones....
* * * * *
And a faint, thin cry stayed them all! They turned to see, at the
deserted southward gate, the torn and bleeding figure of a Warrior
who, hair disheveled, face scarred and raw, hands and arms deep-scored
with gory cicatrices, pulled herself within the Jinnia camp dragging
behind her one sturdy leg and one blackened, withered stump.
In that moment of dread wonder it did not even seem strange to the
clanswomen that the first to reach the wounded Warrior's side should be
the stranger, Daiv. But Daiv it was who raised her in his arms.
The visitor's eyes were filmed with pain, horror, fatigue. They
unveiled now, and an indomitable purpose shone through. In a husky
voice she faltered, "It is too late ... to save me. Soon I will
join ... my Clanswomen ... and the Gods. Save ... yourselves!"
There was unbelievable gentleness in Daiv's voice.
"What is it, Warrior?" he asked. "What enemy thus cruelly destroyed
you? Of what would you warn us?"
From some deep-hidden well the messenger drew new strength. Her eyes
blazed as she answered, "I bid you flee to the secret spots of the
mountains. An evil foe even now marches upon your camp. Stunted and
vicious little yellow-skinned Men-things who linber[4] our Clans,
destroy our fighters with tubes that maim and stun."
[Footnote 4: Linber--to kidnap, (derived from Lindbergh?)--Ed.]
The aged Mother was beside her now.
"Who are you, daughter?" she begged. "Whence come you?"
"I am Vivyun," labored the refugee, "of the Durm Clan. Short days
ago came strange lightings in the heavens; mad thunders burst in the
forests about our village--"
Jain interrupted, startled, "Mother! The omens we heard night before
last in the forest to our west!" and Meg looked swiftly at Daiv. She
cried,
"The forest through which we fled, Daiv! The wood of heavy twigs!"
Daiv silenced her with a thoughtful nod. Vivyun's halting speech
continued.
"--then came the onslaught. Armored demons, the color of mustard seed,
burst upon us. Our Warriors went to meet them but the dwarfs loosed
lights from sticks and where the soldiers had stood, now were but
inch-long, stony parodies of Women. One of the lights played for an
instant upon my leg--"
Meg looked and shuddered. The dying Warrior's leg was firm and round
from hip to thigh; ten inches above the knee it ended abruptly in a
scoriated stump from which depended an ugly, wartlike excrescence
which--Meg saw with sickening horror--was the perfectly formed
simulacrum of a human limb.
Daiv was muttering savagely, "Speak on, Warrior!"
"They come," persisted Vivyun, "to capture Women. Like the Wild Ones,
they die out for lack of Mates. Out of the far southland they come,
from a land called Mayco. They bear other strange weapons. A stick
that shoots lights of insanity ... a wall they build of invisible
bricks...."
"More!" pleaded Daiv and the Mother in one breath as Vivyun faltered.
"More!"
But a strange, foolish look glazed the dying one's eyes. Her lips
moved whitely and her breath was a whisper. "You are a strange ...
creature," she said to Daiv. "Somehow you ... make it easy to die ...
Man-thing...."
Then she was still.
* * * * *
Lora, Chieftain of the Warriors, broke the spell that bound them all
with a thunderous cry.
"Invaders? No invaders can take the village of the Jinnia tribe! To
arms, Warriors! To your posts. Let these yellow dwarfs attack _us_,
and--" She laughed evilly.
Daiv sprang to his feet; his voice a peremptory challenge. "Hold,
Warrior! Did you not hear what Vivyun said? These invaders have magic
weapons; sticks that spit insanity and crumpling death. It is best we
should flee to the hills. Maybe there we can devise some way--"
Meg's cheeks were hot with sorrow for Daiv as the Warrior Chieftain
scorned him with her eyes.
"It is a Man-thing after all!" she spat. "A hairless Wild One with the
cowardly instincts of all Men. Fool! Know you not the dying one babbled
foolishness in her delirium? Sticks that dwarf Warriors! Walls without
bricks!"
Daiv gritted, "I have no time for argument, Warrior." To the Mother
he cried beseechingly, "There is little love lost between me and thy
Clan, O Mother. But because you are Meg's sisters, I would see you
live. Believe me, there was truth in Vivyun's warning. I myself have
heard elders speak of a sunlit land called 'Mayco,' peopled by savage
demons--"
The Mother pressed her hands together in an agony of indecision. To
Meg, in her desperation, she turned, crying, "See now, O my daughter,
how heavy is the task of being a Mother?" And she muttered, half to
herself, "If this be true, then all are doomed unless we flee. But if
it be lies--"
Daiv, man of action, tired swiftly of this maundering. For the second
time that afternoon he reached for Meg's hand.
"Come, Golden One! Let these fools die; let them become stiffened twigs
of humans as the branches we saw in the forest were stiffened and
dwarfed trees! I will take _you_ to safety--"
Meg took a step forward. And then--one of the Women laughed. A sneering
laugh. Meg's cheeks flamed, and her outstretched hand dropped to her
side. She shook her head.
"No, Daiv." Sadly. "I had not dreamed you were--"
"A coward?" Daiv supplied the word wrathfully. "I am a coward to wisely
flee from the magic of men who know the secrets of the Ancient Ones? By
the Gods, Golden One, it is you who have lost your senses. If you will
not come willingly, I'll save you in spite of yourself. Come!"
And he sprang toward her. Meg stumbled backward, torn by a thousand
conflicting emotions. Then, of a sudden, came that which coalesced all
her emotions into one indistinguishable chaos. There came a mighty
roaring _sough_ from the woodlands south of the village; a portion of
the walls caved inward with a mighty crash; spent air howled like the
breath of the flood-time gods, and--
In the opening, golden sunlight gleamed on glinting armor! A horde of
dwarfed and evil yellow men, shining sticks in their hands, stormed in
through the rent!