The Creature from Beyond Infinity

CHAPTER IX Li Yang

Dro-Ghir surged up in one swift motion. His hand brought out a short throwing-spear, which he leveled at Ardath.

"Li Yang!" he roared. "Come here!"

Ardath had already taken pains to learn the language of the barbarian hordes.

"I mean no harm," he began. "I merely—"

"Peace, Lord," a new voice broke in. "He comes unarmed. Wait!"

Someone was crouching in the shadows. Ardath peered intently into the darkness. He saw a gross lump of a man, an absurdly fat Oriental who sat cross-legged in the gloom. Sharp black eyes, almost hidden in the sagging pads of the bland round face, stared back at Ardath. The tiny, red lips were childlike, and the domelike skull was bald and shining. Li Yang wore a loose robe, girt about his bulging waist by a golden cord.

Dro-Ghir had also swiveled to peer at the Oriental.

"Hear his words," Li Yang counseled, and picked up a lutelike instrument at his side. Idly he strummed the strings as he gave his advice. "There is no harm in words."

But Dro-Ghir did not release his grip on the spear. He stood with legs wide apart, watching Ardath.

"Well?" he demanded.

The Kyrian spread his hands in appeal.

"I come in peace."

"How did you get through the lines?"

"That does not matter. I have a message for you."

Dro-Ghir growled a savage threat deep in his throat.

"Let him speak, Lord," Li Yang whispered. Then speak—but swiftly!"

Swiftly Ardath told his story. He was still puzzled, and he grew more bewildered as he searched the dull, ferocious eyes of the chieftain. No understanding woke in them, yet Ardath plunged on, explaining his purpose, asking Dro-Ghir to come with him into time.

Finally he finished. There was tense silence as the lamps sputtered and flickered eerily. At last the soft twang of the lute murmured vaguely.

"What is your answer?" Ardath asked. Dro-Ghir tugged at his beard, while his hand was still clenched about the spear. Abruptly the Oriental broke in.

"Lord, I think this foreigner has strange powers. It would be well to make him welcome."

The Oriental heaved to his feet, a flabby behemoth from the furs, and the pudgy hand made a swift motion to Dro-Ghir. The chieftain hesitated. Then his face broke into a wolfish grin.

"Good. We are not enemies, you and I. Break bread with me."

Li Yang shuffled ponderously forward, thrust a cake of mealy, unleavened bread into Dro-Ghir's paw. The chieftain broke the cake into halves and handed Ardath one, stuffing the other into his capacious mouth. The crumbs that fell were caught in his filthy beard.

Warily the Kyrian ate. Something was amiss here, though what is was, he did not know.

"You will come with me?" he asked. "I am tired of using force. If you refuse, I shall merely leave you and continue my search."

"Drink!" Dro-Ghir roared.

He seized a hollowed horn from Li Yang and thrust it at Ardath. The Oriental gave Dro-Ghir another cup. The wine was hotly spiced and steaming. "In friendship—drink!"

The barbarian chief lifted the horn to his lips and drained it. Ardath followed his example. Slowly he lowered the cup. Li Yang was back in his corner, strumming at the lute. His voice rose in a monotonous Oriental song. "All men see the petals of the rose drift down, the jasmine fades, the lotus passes…"

Dro-Ghir stood motionless. Abruptly his huge hand tightened on the drinking-horn, and it shattered.

His hair-fringed mouth gaped open in agony. Only a choking snarl rasped out.

"But no man sees his own doom in the falling of the rose…"

The chieftain's body arched back. He clawed at his throat, his contorted face blindly upturned. Then he crashed down, as a tree falls, and lay silent on a dirty bear fur. A single shudder shook the gross form, before Dro-Ghir was utterly still.

Ardath caught his breath.

His glance probed the Oriental's sharp black eyes as Li Yang stood up hurriedly.

"We must go before Dro-Ghir's body is found. Most of the men are in a drunken stupor, as always after a victory. Hurry!"

"Wait," Ardath protested. "I do not understand."

The Oriental's bland face was immobile, but his black eyes twinkled with malicious amusement.

"Dro-Ghir signaled me to give you the poisoned cup. I gave him the deadly wine, instead. Listen, Ardath—that is your name, I think. Your words were not for this barbarian chief. Ever since Dro-Ghir captured me, years ago, I have served him with my wisdom. He spared me because I gave him good counsel."

Ardath's eyes widened, startled by the simple explanation. Li Yang had been the power behind Dro-Ghir's throne.

The Oriental was the genius who had inspired the invader!

"I am tired of being a slave," said Li Yang frankly. "Eventually Dro-Ghir would have doubted my wisdom, and would have slain me. Also, I do not like this savage world. Let me go with you, Ardath, into the future"—he glanced at the grease-stained furs—"where, at least, there may be more comfortable couches."

Involuntarily Ardath's solemn face relaxed in a gentle smile. He could not help liking this blandly frank Oriental, who played soft music with one hand while he administered poison with the other.

"Very well," he agreed. "Let us go. What of the guards— can we pass through their lines?"

"Unless Dro-Ghir's body is discovered. In that case, not even I will be above suspicion, so we must hurry."

The two slipped quietly from the tent and under a swollen red moon they walked through the encampment. Only when the fires had grown dim behind them did they breathe freely once more.

Li Yang pointed up to the smoke from the camp that drifted across Earth's satellite.

"Barbarian flames darken the Moon-lantern," he said softly. In future ages, the smoke may have drifted away. Not for many centuries, though, I think!"

Ardath did not answer, for he was concentrating on the brain of the man who walked beside him. Presently he sighed with an emotion that was close to despair.

His quest was not over. Li Yang was wise, far ahead of his time in intelligence, but he was not the super-being Ardath sought. The search must still go on through the eons. But Li Yang would be a good companion to have, despite his shortcomings.

After awhile, they came in sight of the ship.

The Oriental's lips quivered, though his face remained immobile.

"The chariot actually flies?" he asked in awe. "It is truly wonderful, like the fabled dragon of Sti-Shan."

On the threshold of the golden ship, Ardath paused a moment. His gaze went to the blue curtain that flickered across the laboratory door. Then he looked sharply at Thordred and Jansaiya, who were rising from their couches.

Jansaiya's elfin features betrayed nothing, though there was a hint of fear in the sea-green eyes. Thordred's beard bristled with apparent indignation.

"It is time you returned!" he growled. "Look!" He pointed toward the laboratory. Silently Ardath entered, Li Yang at his heels. Ignoring their apparent interest in the Oriental, he lifted his brows in a question.

"Enemies," Thordred grunted, his yellow eyes angry. "They came from the forest. I—" He looked away involuntarily. "I opened the 'door, which was wrong, I admit. But I was curious—"

"Go on," Ardath ordered unemotionally.

"Well, the barbarians saw us. They came toward the ship, yelling and hurling spears. I shut the port and barred it, but they hammered so hard on the metal I feared they'd break through."

"No spear can pierce the hull," Ardath replied quietly.

"Jansaiya was frightened, and I was weaponless. I thought I could find a weapon in your laboratory. But when I tried to enter—" He made a quick, angry gesture toward the threshold. "You do not trust us, I see."

"You are wrong." Ardath smiled suddenly. "I take precautions against possible enemies, but you are not my enemy, Thordred. The barbarians fled?"

"They gave up at last," Thordred blurted hurriedly. "But if they had broken in, we would have been slaughtered like trapped beasts."

Ardath shrugged indifferently.

"It should be forgotten. We have a new companion. And soon we must sleep again for centuries."

Thordred said nothing. His eyes were veiled, but slow rage mounted within him. Again he had failed. Not completely, though—He had not betrayed himself, and as yet Ardath suspected nothing.

They must sleep again, yet they would awaken.

Thordred's fist clenched. The next time, he would not fail!