The William P. McGivern Fantasy MEGAPACK™: 25 Classic Fantasy Stories from the Pulps

First published in Fantastic Adventures, September 1942.

Chapter I

The valet entered the bedroom quietly and, after a glance at the young man who lay sleeping there, tip-toed to the window and adjusted the Venetian blinds.

Slanting bars of afternoon sunlight poured into the room, falling across the face of the sleeper.

The valet watched hopefully, but as the young man continued to sleep peacefully, he sighed and walked to the side of the bed.

“It’s five o’clock, sir,” he said, bending over and shaking the young man’s shoulder.

Vance Cameron opened his eyes sleepily and yawned.

“Five o’clock, eh?” he muttered. He ran a hand tiredly through his brown, rumpled hair and hoisted himself on one elbow. After a glance at the clock on the night table, he yawned again and swung his legs out of the bed. He grinned up at his valet who was watching him impassively.

“I haven’t slept this late in years,” he said. “I can hardly believe it. I’ll be completely spoiled when this furlough is over.”

He stood up and stretched luxuriously.

“I’ll have a bath and a bite to eat, then maybe I’ll feel like a human being again.”

“Certainly, sir.” The valet smiled and started for the door.

Vance removed his pajama top, revealing a pair of wide, heavily muscled shoulders that rose like a wedge from lean, flat hips and stomach. He was tall and proportionately built. His face was lean, tanned and serious, but his gray eyes were sparklingly alive and there was humor in the slight upward twist of his lips.

At the door the valet paused.

“I forgot to ask you, sir, what you wished done with the picture?”

Vance looked at him in slight surprise.

“What picture?” he asked.

An expression of doubt appeared on the valet’s face.

“Why, the picture in the living room, sir. I thought — I assumed that you brought it in with you this morning. It was there when I went in to straighten up.”

Vance shook his head.

“Nope, it’s not mine. Maybe it was delivered by mistake.”

“I don’t think so, sir. That is, I hardly see how it could have been. An expressman would have rung the bell. It isn’t likely that someone would have just walked in and left the picture there. Besides it’s quite a large picture.”

“Hmmm,” Vance said. “The mystery deepens, doesn’t it? Well, we’ll just have to wait until someone comes around and claims it. In the meantime, I’m more interested in something to eat than I am in a mysterious picture. I’ll have a look at the thing when I’ve had my shower, but you get started on breakfast, or rather supper.”

“Certainly, sir,” his valet said. He left the room quietly.

Fifteen minutes later, Vance, showered and shaved, and dressed in a casually fitting tweed suit, strolled into the littered living room of his apartment.

That room reflected his personality more definitely than any other in the apartment. In it were bric-a-brac and curios collected from the odd corners of the world in his travels. Gourds and weapons from the lost civilization of the Incas, tiny, bejeweled daggers from Persia, lamps from China, grotesque voodoo dolls from Haiti — all of these and many more, representing the odd and the strange from almost every nation of the globe, were scattered about the room, creating a cosmopolitan atmosphere of unbelievable weirdness.

Vance Cameron had trod the highways of the world for ten years, inquisitively poking his head into the darkest corners of every land. And when the vultures from Berlin had swept over London in those dark September days, Vance had begun his greatest adventure — as a pilot in the grimly battling R.A.F.

This was his first furlough in more than two years of sky battling. As he stood in the center of his bizarre living room, he thought ironically that he deserved a little peace and quiet and contentment.

But he obviously wasn’t going to get it. Not, at least, until he had straightened out the mystery of the picture his valet had mentioned.

The picture had caught and held his eye the moment he entered the room. He was standing now facing it, studying its detail and composition carefully.

The painting was framed in heavy, gleamingly black wood and was leaning against the wall at a slight angle.

Vance lit a cigarette and frowned thoughtfully. Although he was no artist, he could appreciate that the painting was a marvelous piece of work, life-like, vivid and captivating.

The dominant figure on the canvas was a girl. She had been painted life-size, and Vance realized that it would have been an artistic crime to have minimized her dimensions.

She was tall and slender with a glorious halo of blonde hair that waved back from her pale, high forehead and fell ripplingly to her shoulders. Her eyes were great and wide and strangely troubled. The clothes that partly concealed her slim body were barbaric and strange, but they only enhanced her glorious, strangely compelling beauty.

Her hand was resting lightly on the golden mane of a great beast that resembled a lion, except for the blunt, curling horns that sprang from its magnificent head.

There was a quality of noble grandeur about the beast. Great liquid eyes stared solemnly, almost questioningly at Vance, and the majestic head was proudly raised, as if responding to the light touch of the girl’s hand.

Vance stared long and thoughtfully at the painting. There was a feeling, a quality, a reality to the picture that disturbed him strangely.

He was still standing before the barbaric painting when his valet entered.

“Your supper is ready, sir,” he said.

Vance didn’t answer and the valet cleared his throat.

“Supper, sir.”

Vance started slightly. He turned, looked at his valet as if he were seeing him for the first time.

“Oh, yes,” he said vaguely. He shook his head as if trying to shake off a reluctant memory. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. The painting was so beautiful and so strange that he must have lost himself in contemplation.

He ate supper, paying little attention to what he was putting in his mouth. There was a peculiar excitement running through his veins. He wanted to study the mysterious picture, examine it carefully and thoroughly, but somehow he felt as if he shouldn’t.

He was able to smile a little at himself for that idea. He felt curiously excited and unsettled. The sensation was not exactly a novel one, for it had always come to him when he’d seen Messerschmitts diving at him out of the blinding sun, or when he was on perilous reconnaissance flights over Berlin. It was not fear, but rather a quickening of his perceptions, an expectation and invitation to danger.

But why such a sensation should come to him now was a question he was unable to answer.

He finished his supper and returned to the living room. It was almost dark now, and leaping shadows danced in the corners of the room. Vance turned on a few soft lights.

In the pale illumination the bizarrely furnished room was indescribably beautiful, but the most compelling of all the objects was the life-size painting of the girl and the mighty golden beast that stood at her side like a devoted dog.

Vance walked slowly toward the picture and stopped within a few feet of it. For several minutes he regarded it steadily, but found it impossible to view the picture as a whole, for his gaze swung inevitably to the girl and her great, smouldering, troubled eyes.

He looked steadily into her eyes, marveling at the swirling smoky lights that danced in their depths, their swiftly changing colors too delicately shaded to define.

For several minutes Vance studied the painting. In the semi-darkness of the room there was something unnatural about it, as if its colors glowed more deeply and flashed more brightly in the darkness.

To him now, the picture seemed to be the only object in the room. It dominated every other object by its magnificent reality. Vance frowned and shook his head. He wasn’t the type to lose himself in contemplation. He had seen the great artistic masterpieces of the world during his travels, but they had never impressed him as did this picture.

The tall slender girl in the painting was the most ethereally beautiful creature he had ever seen, but it was the haunting, troubled look in her great eyes that lent her the air of mystery and seductive glamor.

And the great beast at her side was an unparalleled work of art. Every stroke of the artist’s brush had caught the nobility, the grandeur, the fierceness of the mighty beast; and at the same time its humble devotion to the tall viking-blonde girl was evident in every line of the great, heavily-chewed body.

Vance was unaware of the passage of time. His valet entered the room to announce that he was going out for the night, and Vance waved him away with an abstracted hand.

Vaguely he heard a door slam, and he realized he was alone in the darkened apartment. But still he stood in the center of the dark living-room, gazing at the painting.

The city noises that drifted faintly to his ears, seemed to fade gradually away, to lose themselves in the blackness of the night.

Vance moved closer to the picture. His eyes met those of the girl in the painting and he stared steadily, intently and longingly into them.

Then he noticed something that sent a shiver down his spine, and felt the perspiration standing out on his brow.

For the expression in the girl’s eyes had suddenly seemed to change. Instead of the troubled, haunted gaze, there was, it seemed, a strange transformed light of anticipation, and of voiceless hope that lighted flames of dancing light in her glorious eyes.

Obeying a compulsion that was beyond definition Vance moved slowly toward the picture, his thoughts confused and whirling. He seemed caught in a force, a will stronger than his own. Had he been hypnotized, his actions could not have been more automatic, more rigidly directed.

But he was not alarmed; rather, he was enormously excited. The face of the girl was blazing radiantly now, as if reflecting the glow of an inner fire.

Vance stood as if poised on the brink of a steep cliff. Behind him was darkness and oblivion, but before him, in the face of the girl, in the voiceless hope that gleamed in her eyes, in the tremulous smile that seemed ready to break on her lips, he saw life and hope and beauty and danger.

He advanced another step toward the picture, and the light in the girl’s eyes grew warmer. The radiance of her face was like the sun at noon-day.

Entranced, mesmerized, Vance stumbled forward, covering the last few steps in a rush. There were swirling lights before his eyes, and his heart was hammering like a trip-hammer against his ribs. The girl’s face, her entire figure, was transfigured with the smile that seemed to break over her face like the sun rising on a gray dawn.

Vance felt himself falling forward. He seemed to be losing consciousness. A wall of blackness was closing on him from all sides, and there was nothing but the slender figure of the girl, as beautiful and dramatic as a slim bright flame, between his falling body and that darkness.

Then the picture came to life!

Even in his numbed state Vance recognized the sudden expression of terror that spread over the girl’s face, destroying her smiling beauty. She shrank back, but underlying her terror there was a fearlessness and a courage that was as bright as a gleaming sword.

Vance heard a snarling, deep chested roar, and with his last conscious glance, saw the great beast at the girl’s side crouching to spring. The muscles of the mighty animal bunched under its tawny hide and its eyes gleamed with rage.

But at a touch of the girl’s hand, the beast backed away and then the two incredible figures, the glorious girl and the golden lion, wheeled and disappeared.

At that moment Vance fell forward into the illimitable blackness of a depthless, timeless, ageless abyss.

Chapter II A Strange World

Vance Cameron awoke slowly. For several moments he seemed suspended in a hazy, flickering limbo, but slowly and gradually the mists cleared from his eyes and he saw a vast distant red sky above his head, in which two mighty green suns burned brilliantly.

He realized that he was lying on his back. He shut his eyes against the searing green light of the dual suns and tried to collect his wildly scattered thoughts.

All he could remember, all he could bring into focus was that moment when the eyes of the girl in the painting had suddenly come alive, glowing with warm, encouraging light, and he had moved toward her like a sun-blighted traveler toward an oasis.

Then he recalled what had happened. She had cringed and a look of terror had spread over her beautiful features; the mighty beast at her side had snarled in rage.

Vance shook his head dazedly. He felt as if he were poised on the precipice of sanity, but that at any instant his mind might plunge into the black and unplumbed depths of sheer madness.

In his mind’s eye he could see the girl and beast, magnificent and noble, their courage and spirit standing forth in every line of the painting.

But was it all some mad dream?

With an effort he raised himself on one elbow and opened his eyes. The scene that met his eyes was one of rugged magnificence, of incomparably wild grandeur. A mighty forest of towering trees stretched away to his left, but they were like no trees that he had seen before in his life. Their boles were incredibly thick and their majestically spreading tops seemed to merge with the blazing red sky. They were purple and green in color but the shades ran together, mingling and merging in a bewildering, eye-dazzling pattern.

Shafts of green light from the great emerald suns slanted through their towering tops, criss-crossing in geometric squares and angles. Where the slanting shafts of light intersected they fused into blazing spots of color and these luminous balh of light winked against the darkness of the forest like Christmas tree ornaments.

Vance turned from this bewilderingly unreal scene and saw, to his right, a narrow, uneveruroadway winding up a ragged, mountainous slope and disappearing into a gulley-like cleft in the highest of the jagged ridges. The ground under him was composed of a black, glinting, shale-like substance and the distant mountains seemed to be of the same material.

His mind reeled dizzily as he studied the barren, bewildering terrain. There were no answers to the questions that hammered at his brain.

What was this place? How had he come here? And the gloriously beautiful golden girl? Had she been real, or was she only the product of his disordered imagination?

Frowning, he climbed to his feet. Carefully he explored his arms and legs. Except for a general feeling of impotent helplessness, he seemed to have received no damage from his transition to this mysterious place.

As he stood there, turning over in his mind the insoluble problems that his predicament presented, he heard a clattering noise in the distance.

The sharply reverberating sound shattered the stillness with startling abruptness. Vance wheeled and saw that two human figures had appeared from one of the narrow gashes in the mountainous slope.

They were mounted on huge, awkward, four-legged beasts, and it was the thundering of hoofs on the hard, rocky ground that had caused the strident clattering noise.

The two men rode toward Vance at an easy lope. They were attired in flame-colored garments with gaudy green sashes and trappings. Their broad shoulders were covered with metal plates that glinted dully in the light of the blazing green suns.

When they were within a dozen feet of Vance they reined their mounts to a stop. One of the men wore a full dark beard that covered the lower half of his powerfully cast face. His eyes, coal-black and coal-hard, glowered at Vance from under low, beetling brows.

The other man was smaller than his companion and his face was cleanshaven, revealing thin, finely molded features and a well-shaped, but weak jawline. His eyes were pale and large and they did not meet Vance’s squarely.

The thick-shouldered rider with the dark beard and hard, boring eyes spoke first, and his voice was a heavy guttural growl.

“Who are you?”

Vance stiffened, for the words had been spoken in English. And, for some reason, it seemed incongruous to hear that language spoken in these wild, barbaric surroundings.

The two men, he saw, were studying him carefully, almost anxiously. There was something so intent and watchful in their gaze that he instinctively set himself on guard. He saw the two riders exchange looks, then the smaller one, with the thin narrow face, turned to him.

“You do not need to be alarmed,” he said. His voice smooth and quiet. “We are friends. I am known here as Numari.” He waved a slim, negligent hand toward his companion. “This is Rakar, my Grand Agent.”

Vance listened carefully to the man’s words. They were precise and correct, but they were spoken with a peculiar accent, as if the speaker had little experience with the language.

Both of the men were regarding him intently, as if anxious to determine the effect of the speech on him.

Vance acknowledged the introduction with a nod. He realized that he would learn more by keeping his mouth shut and letting them do the talking.

The smaller man, Numari, glanced about the small clearing and then his eyes shifted to the vast dark depths of the forest. There was a worried, apprehensive frown on his face when his pale eyes returned nervously to his companion, the man he had designated as Rakar.

Rakar growled something unintelligible from the depths of his bull-neck and swung to face Vance.

“You haven’t said how you came here,” he said. There was no friendliness in his gruff, snarling voice.

“You haven’t asked me,” Vance said. His lean brown face hardened. He didn’t like the other’s tone and he wasn’t bothering to hide his feelings.

Numari raised a chiding hand and shot a swift, warning glance at Rakar before turning a pleasant face to Vance.

“Naturally,” he said, smoothly, “your presence here is somewhat intriguing. You must pardon our curiosity, but there are things we are anxious to know. It is true, is it not, that you come from the great dimension of movement; where machines of all type and description move over the land, fly through the air and burrow under the ground and sea?”

“Yes,” Vance said, puzzled, “that is true.” He wondered fleetingly how the other knew. And he wondered again where and what this place was.”

“Ah!” smiled Numari, “that is so very interesting. You see, we know certain things about your world and we are very interested in learning more. We have, as you doubtless have noticed, learned your language, but there are other important things we would be happy to know. First, we would be greatly obliged if you would tell us how you came here.”

He leaned forward as he spoke and his thin, edged features were touched with a faint smile. But the smile did not go as far as his eyes. They remained pale and emotionless, shifting slightly away from Vance’s direct stare.

“I’m not sure myself,” Vance answered. Without exactly knowing why, he was stalling for time, trying to find out what Numari was driving at in his oblique, subtle manner.

“What, then, of Laonara?” Rakar demanded. But he did not address this question to Vance. His hot gaze was on his slender companion, Numari, and there was a controlled and bitter anger in his harsh voice.

Numari glanced warningly at him. Vance caught the swift expression of displeasure that accompanied the look.

“Rakar,” Numari said to Vance, “speaks of Laonara, a young girl, who has been known to frequent this spot on occasions. Perhaps you have seen her?”

Vance kept his face expressionless. He could tell from the tense looks on the faces of the two mounted men that there was more than a casual significance behind Numari’s question. He felt as if he were finally seeing part of the design that lay behind Numari’s interrogation.

“A girl?” he repeated. He frowned and shook his head puzzledly.

“Yes?” Numari said. “You have seen her?” Excitement had crept into his soft voice.

Vance realized, now, that it was to his own advantage to say nothing of the girl. Although he couldn’t imagine how, that information might be a trump card later.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re the only persons I’ve seen here.” That much was strictly true. “What does this girl look like?”

“She is tall and fair,” Numari answered. “You would remember her if you saw her.”

“We are wasting time,” Rakar growled. He swung the head of his mount impatiently about. “We must be going.” He added something in a tongue unintelligible to Vance. The last sentence was spoken directly to Numari and seemed to be a sharp command.

Numari nodded slightly and turned to Vance.

“Since you have arrived so unexpectedly in our midst, we would be very happy to offer you such accommodations as we have at our disposal.”

Vance realized that he was helpless to do anything but accept their offer. As yet, he knew nothing of this place to which he had so mysteriously come. And of the golden girl of the picture, he was equally in doubt. If it hadn’t been for Numari’s questions about such a girl, he would have been ready to believe that the entire experience had been the result of his imagination.

“All right,” he said. He wondered, then, what he was heading for. And he wondered what their reaction would have been had he refused to accompany them.

“Excellent,” Numari said. He reined his shaggy, cumbersome beast closer to Vance and extended his hand. Vance clasped his wrist and swung himself up to the back of the animal. He was surprised by the steel-like strength in Numari’s arm.

When he was settled, Numari dug heels into the flanks of the great beast and it lumbered ahead, following Rakar’s mount.

The hoofs of the swaying animals struck a ringing, clattering sound from the rock-hard ground as they cantered toward the gulley from which the two riders had originally appeared.

They rode through the narrow gash in the ridge and entered a plateau of barren, rocky desolation. The black, depressing landscape spread endlessly away on both sides, an uninviting scene of grim, brooding lifelessness. Ahead, a half-mile or so, Vance judged, another sloping ridge rose into the air, outlined sharply against the boiling red of the sky. When their mounts had plodded across the barren plateau and reached this second ridge, Rakar clattered on ahead and disappeared through a passage in the slope. Numari reined to a stop.

“The delay will not be long,” he said.

They waited for several minutes before Rakar appeared again, followed by a half-dozen men similarly mounted. These men were more of Rakar’s type than Numari’s. Strong and solid, with heavy dark beards, they sat their steeds with careless ease as they galloped forward. They wore plain dark clothing with white sashes, and Rakar’s brilliant green and red raiment stood out dramatically against their drab background.

“A few of my good men,” Numari murmured. “We will proceed now.”

The new arrivals studied Vance with bold, impassive glances before wheeling their mounts and riding on ahead of the party. Rakar rode directly before Numari. They followed the ridge for a number of miles. It was impossible to estimate how long they had been riding for the great blazing green suns seemed to be fixed and unmoving. Vance studied them carefully from time to time, but their position was the same as when he had first seen them.

Finally they reached the end of the long sloping ridge which had flanked their course. The party turned and began a slow cautious descent of a descending slope that led downward to an immense spreading valley, in which Vance could see the shapes of vast, alabaster-white buildings stretching for miles in every direction.

Numari reined their mount to a stop at the top of the slope and swept his arm in a wide circle over the vast panoramic scene.

“Welcome to Bondira,” he said sardonically. An amused grin touched his lips. “Here, I rule.”

Vance studied the majestically sprawling city with interest. The structures were built at a uniform height, but there were no geometric considerations in the lay-out of streets and grouping of edifices. They were jumbled about like carelessly arranged blocks, without reference to size or position. In the light of the green suns the white buildings gleamed with a pale weird translucence that cast a gleaming corona about each structure.

“It is pretty, is it not?” Numari murmured. Rakar and the others of the party were half-way down the slope, Vance noticed. Numari swung their mount about.

“Let us go down,” he said.

Chapter III Bondiral

When they reached the main section of the sprawling city, Numari dismounted and tossed the reins of his mount to a young boy who was standing outside one of the larger, gleaming white buildings.

Vance had seen few inhabitants in the streets of the strange city. On several occasions he had seen men moving slowly along the wide streets, but there was something beaten and furtive about their appearance that puzzled him.

Numari led him through the arched, open doors of the building into a wide, softly-lighted foyer. Here, Vance saw more men, swarthy, bearded giants, of the type that had accompanied them to the city. These men were standing at various stations apparently on guard duty. Two of them stepped forward and swung open a huge door as Numari and Vance strode across the floor of the foyer.

Numari nodded briefly to the men, and they bowed their heads and placed their right hands over their hearts as he passed.

The door closed silently behind them as they entered a large, luxuriously furnished hall, lighted by softly glowing tapers in each of the room’s four corners.

Couches lined the laminated walls, covered with soft, lustrous skins and over the gleaming, translucent floor were scattered thick-woven rugs of gray and white patterns.

The arched ceiling was covered with an intricate tracery of design that seemed to form changing shapes as the flickering luminations played over them.

In the center of the room, facing the massive doors through which they had entered, was an elevated dais, gleaming with gilded metal. The seat and back of the throne were covered with tinted furs. A number of lower chairs were grouped about this central dais.

Numari seated himself on the dais and carefully arranged his green and red robes over his knees. There was a cryptic smile hovering about his lips as he waved Vance to one of the chairs grouped about the dais.

“Please, be seated,” he smiled. “You must be tired after your trip.”

Vance sensed that the words were not merely polite; they expressed a deliberate command. There was, he noticed, a definite change in Numari’s attitude since they had reached the city. The anxiousness and worry had dropped from him and his smile was tinged with a sardonic irony as he studied Vance.

Vance remained standing.

“I’m more comfortable this way,” he said drily.

Numari settled back on his ornate dais. His fingers toyed with tassels on the arms of the chair.

“As you prefer,” he said. “There are several things I want to discuss with you, but I will wait until you are rested and refreshed. Primarily I am curious to know more of the workings of your vast mechanistic civilization. I find such things very fascinating. I’m sure you won’t mind acting as my tutor for a while.”

“I’m not so sure,” Vance said. He realized suddenly that he was in an extremely peculiar position. Whether it was a precarious position, he couldn’t tell. That would depend on Numari and his designs. But he did realize that he knew nothing about where he was or how he had come to this amazing land; and that without Numari’s approval there would be little chance of his ever leaving.

Numari leaned forward. His thin face was quite expressionless, but his cold eyes were narrowed suspiciously.

“Just what do you mean,” he said.

“I have to return to my own country as soon as possible,” Vance said quietly. “I am needed there. I can’t stay here.”

Numari studied him thoughtfully for a moment and then he smiled slowly. Leaning back in his throne he chuckled softly.

“I understand,” he said. “Naturally you are anxious to return to your own — er — land. And we are more than anxious to do what will please you. But there may be some slight delays in arranging your transportation.” His lips widened in a smile. “Yes, transportation might be something of a problem.”

“What do you mean?” Vance asked. “Why should there be any difficulty?”

“I will explain everything to you tomorrow,” Numari said, smiling easily. “Now you need food and rest. I am sure you will find things quite comfortable here while you are with us.” He raised a slender hand in the air. The gesture was obviously a signal, for a small door at the opposite end of the room opened and an elderly, white-haired man entered.

“Yes?” he said respectfully.

Without turning his eyes from Vance, Numari said, “Take this man to a room here in my palace. Bring him food and see that he is comfortable. Do you understand, Aki?”

“Yes,” the elderly man said quietly. “Aki,” Numari said to Vance, “is one of the few slaves in my kingdom who understands the language you speak. How he picked it up is a mystery, even to me. That is why I have arranged for him to act as your personal servant while you are with us. I am sure that he will be able to satisfy all of your needs.”

“You seem to be arranging a rather permanent set-up,” Vance said thoughtfully. “You really do expect me to spend quite a while here, don’t you?” Numari looked pained.

“It grieves me to think that the thought of staying a while with me is repugnant to you. I had hopes that you might grow to like it here and remain with us, of your own volition, for a pleasant stay. But,” he sighed, “that is obviously not to be. We will discuss everything on the morrow, however. In the meantime everything here is at your disposal. Enjoy yourself.”

It was an obvious dismissal.

Vance hesitated an instant and then he glanced at the servant, Aid, who was holding the door open for him. He shrugged and sauntered toward the open door. Numari did not turn his head, but Vance could see the amused smile on his face and the winking lights of mirth in his eyes.

Vance felt, as he walked through the open door and into a dimly lit corridor, that he was walking straight into trouble. But there was no other course for him to take. Everything he had encountered in this strange land had been bewilderingly confusing, and until he learned something of the place, it would be sheer folly to take a step on his own.

What was Numari’s purpose in keeping him here? There was no answer to that question. There were no answers to any of the tormenting questions that his very presence here raised.

In a lifetime of adventurous living Vance had looked many times into the dark face of the unknown, but always there had been something palpable to fight, to hit, to shoot, to put his hands on. Now there was nothing but bewildering mystery, further complicated by Numari’s sly innuendos and by the meaningful glances exchanged between the burly Rakar and Numari, when they had questioned him about the golden girl.

What had they called her?

Laonaral!

What was Numari’s interest in this girl? Was this Laonara, they mentioned, the same glorious, viking-proud golden girl of the picture?

Vance shook his head despairingly. He was beginning to doubt even the evidence of his own senses. His entire memory of the girl in the picture might have been no more than a mirage, an hallucination or some queer optical illusion.

The corridor door closed with a slight click. The sound brought him back to reality.

The servant, Aki, stepped in front of him and bowed deferentially.

“Will you follow me please?”

Vance noted the old man’s stumbling, halting speech; but he also noted the calm, clear blue eyes, and the proud, seamed features of the man. In spite of his years his carriage was erect and straight, belying the snow-white hair that crowned his noble head like a halo.

He nodded and the old man turned and moved slowly down the long corridor. Vance followed him past two intersecting corridors and up a long sloping walk that led to a higher level. The walls and floors were composed of a hard shiny substance, as smooth and lustrous as marble, but it was unveined and as white as alabaster.

The old man halted at last before a door that was so perfectly fitted into the wall as to be practically unnoticeable. He opened the door with a gentle shove and stood aside.

Vance stepped into a large, windowless room, comfortably furnished with two couches set against opposite walls and low backless chairs covered with soft tan furs.

There were no windows in the room. Illumination was provided by slim tapers that burned softly and slowly and without causing any noticeable smoke.

Vance realized that in spite of the architectural perfection of the city, and the generally cultured air of the inhabitants he had met, he had seen no evidences of mechanical or electrical developments.

When he looked around he saw that Aki, the aged servant, had followed him into the room, closing the door behind him.

The old man’s face was tense with excitement and his steady blue eyes were fixed intently on him, as if trying to measure and weigh him with the glance.

“Please,” the old man whispered, in his strange halting accent, “I must talk with you. There is no time to lose.”

Vance stared at him in surprise.

There was something demanding and urgent in the old man’s voice that compelled his interest.

“Okay,” he said.

Aki’s brown forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“Okay?” he repeated doubtfully. “I do not know—”

Vance smiled.

“That means all right, go ahead. I’m listening.”

Aki looked quickly behind him, at the closed door, then turned back to Vance.

“You must leave this place,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “You must not stay here another minute. Already it may be too late.”

Vance studied the old man’s honest, seamed face, and a slow frown settled over his eyes as he saw the anxious fear that twisted those aged features.

“Perhaps you’d better tell me what you mean,” he said.

The old man shot another fearful glance at the door behind him.

“There is no time,” he said tensely. His trembling, veined hands clutched Vance’s arm. “You must believe me. I know why you were brought here. She has told me everything. I have helped her with all the plans. But something has gone wrong. Someone discovered what she was attempting. That is why you are here now, in the castle of Numari, instead of with her. Don’t you see? You must believe me.”

Vance shook his head, his face grim and serious. Nothing the old man said made any sense to him, but he had the feeling that he was coming closer to the heart of the mystery that surrounded his presence in this strange, incredible world.

“I’m sorry, Aki,” he said. “I don’t get what you’re driving at. Who is this ‘she’ you’re talking about?”

“She?” Aki repeated. His voice and face were incredulous. “But I thought you knew. Before the evil days of Numari and Rakar she was our queen, our goddess, our ruler. She was kind and wise and good and governed us in peace and happiness. And she will once again, I–I swear.” The old man drew himself up proudly as he spoke and there was a look of eagles in his steady, blue eyes.

“But who is she?” Vance persisted. “She is Laonara,” Aki said.

The name rang a bell in Vance’s memory. That was the name Numari had mentioned. The name of the girl Numari and Rakar had asked him about so carefully and searchingly.

Laonara then must have been the girl in the portrait, the magnificent, viking-blonde girl with the swirling, smoky eyes, whose image had metamorphosed to throbbing life before his eyes a day, a year, an aeon ago.

“You must come with me,” Aki insisted. “There is danger for you here. Numari and Rakar seek only your knowledge of war-like, destructive science. They want that power for their own design.”

“Where else can I go?” Vance asked. “I couldn’t leave here if I wanted to. And why was I brought to this place? That was Laonara’s idea, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Aki admitted. “But she, herself, must explain why. When you have seen Laonara everything will be clear and right and understandable to you.”

“Can you take me to her?”

“Yes,” Aki’s voice trembled with relief. His eyes were shining brightly and his gnarled, veined hands clasped together in a gesture of gratitude. “Yes,” he repeated jubilantly, “I can and will take you to my queen, Laon—”

A heavy knock suddenly sounded on the door of the room, splintering the quiet silence. Aki wheeled about, an expression of terror spreading over his seamed features. Before he could move again the door was shoved roughly inward and Rakar shouldered his way into the room. His dark, bearded face was impassively cynical, but his eyes were black and hot as they swung from Aki to Vance.

He was not alone. Several of the heavy-shouldered riders stood behind him in the corridor, their brutal faces gleaming with anticipation.

Rakar stared at Vance for a long moment and a humorless smile parted his full, heavy lips.

“This is interesting,” he said softly. “Is it?” Vance said. He fought to curb his rising anger. There was something in Rakar’s insolent state that raised the hackles on the back of his neck.

Rakar turned from him without answering. His thick powerful hand shot out and closed over Aki’s frail shoulder. The muscles of his forearm bunched, his fingers closed like steel claws and Aki sank to his knees, a sobbing moan breaking from his lips.

“Dog!” Rakar growled. He shook the old man roughly, savagely. Still holding the old man with his one hand he lifted him from the floor and flung him toward the men standing in the corridor. They caught Aki’s stumbling form and jerked him erect, twisting his arms behind his body. His white head sagged limply forward against his chest.

“Take him away,” Rakar snapped. He turned to Vance, his heavy, dark face reddened with his rage.

“You will be wise to forget what you heard from this mad slave,” he growled.

Vance glanced briefly at the elderly slave, Aki, held helpless in the grip of Rakar’s men and then his gaze swung back to Rakar.

“What are you going to do to him?” he asked, ignoring Rakar’s instruction.

Rakar’s strong white teeth flashed against the darkness of his beard.

“That does not concern you,” he said. “What difference does it make whether a slave lives or dies?”

“It does to me,” Vance snapped. He felt Aki’s eyes on him, silently imploring. “Numari, your ruler, gave this man to me to use as a personal servant. I think that entitles me to some say in the matter. Tell your men to take their hands off him. If he’s to be punished Numari will take care of it, not your gang of hoodlums.”

Vance watched the expression on Rakar’s face as he spoke. He was stalling for time, hoping to bluff Rakar into releasing the slave. There were questions he had to ask Aki, questions that might solve the whole riddle of his presence here in this strange, barbaric world. And he didn’t intend to let that chance slip from him. But it was impossible to judge the effect of his words on Rakar.

The man’s swarthy, lowering face was as enigmatic as the fissures in a granite wall.

“I have given you excellent advice,” he said harshly. “Keep out of this affair and forget what you have heard. This old fool will have his head split within the hour and that will be the end of the matter.”

Vance stepped forward slowly, and instinctively his hands tightened into hard fists. He didn’t know what he could do to help Aki, but he was through stalling.

Rakar put a big hand against his chest.

“I have warned you,” he said tensely.

Vance moved forward against the pressure of Rakar’s hand and his gray eyes were dancing with reckless lights. There was a tingling excitement in his veins. He knew, now, what was going to happen.

“Take your hand down,” he said quietly.

Rakar’s dark face flushed with hot anger. His thick brutal lips flattened against his teeth.

“Fool!” he hissed.

The muscles of his arm and shoulder flexed as he lunged suddenly forward, shoving his entire strength and weight against Vance’s chest.

Vance had been expecting the move. He twisted sharply sideways and Rakar’s hand slipped from his chest.

The momentum of Rakar’s lunge sent him sprawling to the floor. With a roar of bestial rage he clambered to his feet and rushed at Vance, his great fists swinging like flailing mallets.

Vance dropped into a crouch, a savage exultation coursing through his body. He slipped under Rakar’s wildly swinging arms and drove a sledgehammer blow into his stomach.

Rakar staggered back, his face whitening with pain. His mouth opened and closed spasmodically as he fought for breath. Vance stepped in and swung again, coldly, savagely. His fist connected solidly with the bigger man’s jaw.

Rakar fell backward through the door of the room, sprawling in a tangled heap at the feet of the three guards who were holding the slave, Aki.

He rolled to a kneeling position, his hands clasped over his bleeding lips. There was a maniacal gleam of hatred in his narrowed, gleaming eyes.

Two of his gray-clad men had drawn short, wicked-looking knives and were starting for Vance, but he checked them with a sharp gesture of his hand.

“Wait!” he growled through swollen lips. His hate-maddened eyes swung to Vance. A cruel, humorless smile touched his lips.

“We shall see Numari now,” he said softly. “We have played too long with you.” He motioned to his men, who were crouched tensely, with daggers drawn. “Take him to the council chamber.”

Vance realized that it would be useless to resist. He relaxed as the two of Rakar’s men pinioned his arms and dragged him from the room and down the corridor. Rakar followed, with Aki and his guard bringing up the rear.

Chapter IV

Numari was reclining indolently on his raised dais, and there were a number of the gray-clad, grim-looking guards posted at the entrances of the council chamber, when Vance was dragged into the softly-lighted, luxuriously furnished room.

Numari’s thin, cynical face expressed an amused surprise as he stared blandly from Vance to Rakar.

“Has there been some difficulty?” he inquired softly. He made a slight gesture to the men holding Vance, and they released him and stepped back a few paces.

“Yes,” Rakar snapped harshly. He motioned to the guard holding Aki to shove him forward. “This traitor has been caught red-handed, spreading lies about you and talking of Laonara, which alone is punishable by death.” Numari glanced fleetingly at Aki and shook his head sadly.

“How very thoughtless of you,” he murmured. He turned again to Rakar. “And to whom was he telling these — ah — lies?”

Rakar nodded toward Vance.

“The one from the other world. And his actions indicate that he believes the slave before us. We have made a mistake in treating him gently. There are other methods he might understand more readily.”

“Possibly,” Numari said. He shifted slowly on his chair until he faced Vance directly.

“Do you have anything to say in answer to these charges?” he asked quietly.

Vance smiled mockingly.

“Would it do me any good?” He folded his arms and met Numari’s gaze deliberately. “I don’t know what your game is but I don’t like what I’ve seen so far.”

“That is a pity,” Numari said, smiling. “Since you are going to spend considerable time with us, your attitude is unfortunate. We need your knowledge and information of the mechanical and electrical developments of your dimension. We were prepared to make your stay as pleasant as possible if you were willing to cooperate. “Now,” he shrugged eloquently, “you are forcing us to be unpleasant. It is, however, not too late to change your mind and your attitude. The scientific knowledge you possess is vital to us and one way or another, we will acquire it. The means we employ will be determined by your attitude.”

Vance’s jaw set stubbornly.

“I don’t feel in a very cooperative mood,” he said sarcastically.

Numari sighed. “That is unfortunate — for you. You leave me no alternative. Beneath this building are a number of dungeons which are not particularly pleasant. We find them useful in changing stubborn minds. When I see you again I feel quite sure that you will be more responsive.”

He nodded to Rakar.

“You may take charge of the prisoners. Perhaps your methods would have been best from the beginning.”

Dakar smiled slowly, a twisted smile of gloating anticipation, as he regarded Vance. A deep, unpleasant laugh rumbled in his bull throat and his hand moved thoughtfully to his battered jaw.

“It is not too late,” he said softly. “I’m sure of that. It is never too late to even scores.”

He made a sharp gesture with his hand. The men behind Vance stepped forward and grabbed his arms. One of them prodded the point of a dagger into his back. For an instant Vance tensed, ready to lash out at the men holding him, but he realized that any struggle would be worse that futile. His muscles relaxed and he permitted the men to shove him toward the door. Numari said, “I will see you again.” Vance halted and twisted to face the dais. There were hard bitter lights in his gray eyes.

“Yes,” he said softly, “you’ll see me again.”

Numari’s light laugh was in his ears as he was shoved through the door and it was slammed behind him with thudding finality.

Vance was led along a corridor to an intersecting passageway that sloped downward at a noticeable angle. For several minutes they followed this circular, descending corridor, and with each step the increasing humidity became more stifling. Rivulets of water trickled down the smooth sides of the corridor and collected in puddles on the hard, smooth floor. An occasional flickering taper cast a dubious illumination over the glistening walls.

Vance could hear Rakar behind him and he could also hear the lighter steps of Aki and the man who guarded him, but other than these sounds the tunnels were as silent as a tomb.

It was impossible to gauge distance or time in the subterranean passages. For what seemed to be hours they followed the tortuously winding passage until finally it straightened and levelled out. Now the tapers were hundreds of feet apart, and except for these intervals, they plodded on through the dank tunnels in a stygian blackness.

When they passed the next light Vance noticed a door on one side of the passage. It was apparently cut into the stone in the most primitive fashion. One small window, hardly three inches square, had been chiseled at its top and this was the only aperture in the solid face of the door.

Vance shuddered as they trudged past this crypt-like entrance. His imagination balked at the image of what might lie behind that door, in the gloomy vault it sealed.

He realized then that such a cell was probably his own destination. Drops of perspiration started on his forehead. Imprisonment in one of the tomb-like vaults that lined these dark corridors would be a hell on earth, a living death.

Finally, after their seemingly interminable march, the two men at his side jerked him to a halt. Rakar strode up alongside him.

“This is the end of the tunnel system,” he said. He pointed ahead where Vance could see, through the gloom, a solid wall blocking off the corridor. “For men left here,” Rakar continued, “this is generally the end of the world. When you again see the light you will be older — and wiser.”

One of Vance’s guard had pulled open a creaking, vault-like door, exposing a small, damp cell, barely large enough for a person to stand in. There was a rustle of small things on the floor as the light from the corridor fell into the room.

“You will not be completely alone,” Rakar said ironically.

The two guards, at a sign from Rakar, suddenly jerked Vance’s arms behind his back and twisted them so that he was pinioned helplessly between them.

“Before I leave you here to rot,” Rakar said savagely, “I’m going to pay you back in full for this.”

He touched his battered jaw, the result of Vance’s swinging fist, and smiled bitterly.

“This will be something for you to remember in the darkness,” he said.

With sadistic deliberation he drew back his fist and drove it at Vance’s face with all of his strength.

But the blow did not find its mark. At the instant the swing started, Vance hurled himself to one side, jerking the guards off their feet with the unexpectedness of his lunge.

Rakar bellowed in rage. But before he could move toward Vance a rumbling reverberation suddenly blasted through the dimly-lighted passageway, jarring the solid rock beneath their feet. There was a crushing noise, as of two mighty boulders grinding together, and then the wall that blocked off the tunnel swung ponderously, slowly open.

A terrible, deep-throated roar blasted against the walls of the tunnel, as the intersecting wall swung clear.

Vance hurled one guard from him and was struggling to his feet, when the dreadful, marrow-chilling sound exploded in his ears, deafening him with its immensity.

He wheeled toward the sound and the incredible sight that met his eyes branded itself on his memory for all time.

A golden, lion-like beast was crouched at the end of the tunnel, its mighty jaws distended horribly, as roar after roar blasted from its great chest, jarring the walls and ceiling with their impact.

And behind this immense beast stood the flowing haired, thrillingly beautiful girl who had first appeared to him as a painted figure in a picture.

Now, her face was aflame with triumphant exultation and smoky lights swirled in the depths of her enormous eyes.

Vance saw her lips move, saw her hand touch the mighty beast, crouched at her feet like a dog. And then what happened was too quick for his eye to follow.

A roar split the air. The great golden beast was a blurred, tawny streak as its powerful legs charged past Vance. Vance wheeled in time to see Rakar go down before the onslaught, a hideous gurgling scream tearing from his throat.

One of the brutal guards who had been holding Vance crawled to his feet and lurched toward the imperious figure of the golden girl, a dagger clutched in his fist.

Vance caught him by the shoulder, jerked him about and slammed a chopping axe-like blow into his face, sprawling him to the ground.

A scream sounded behind him and he spun about just in time to see Aki, the white-haired slave, fall backward against the wall, hands clasping his reddening breast. The guard who had struck the blow still held the dripping knife in his hand as he turned to face Vance’s charge.

Vance feinted with his shoulder, drew the man’s arms up and then drove in low, his powerfully driving legs propelling his body like a catapult. His hard, muscle-bunched shoulder caught the guard at the knees, cutting him down with scythe-like cleanness.

The guard fell on top of him, but a quick, powerful roll brought Vance up to his knees. The guard slashed at him with the knife, his face contorted with mad fury. Vance ducked and slipped an arm about the guard’s body. With a heave he rose to his feet and slammed the body of the guard against the granite-hard wall of the tunnel.

When the man fell to the floor he lay still, his neck twisted at an odd broken angle.

Vance felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and met the girl’s haunting, smoky gray eyes, on a level with his own. At her side the mighty golden beast crouched quietly, tail lashing nervously. There was something on the floor which had once been a man known as Rakar. Vance shuddered slightly as he looked at the horribly rent, mutilated body, but he knew that the man had deserved the death he’d received.

“We cannot stay here,” the girl said. Her voice was smooth and soft and yet there was an undercurrent of regal authority in the liquid tones. “You will come with me, please?”

Vance nodded slowly. He knew, without knowing why, that this girl was good. The quality was in her eyes and her bearing and her voice.

She took his hand and led him toward the end of the tunnel. When they passed the intersecting wall she pressed a stone set in the wall and the massive gate swung shut behind them, blocking off the tunnel. They were enveloped in an impenetrable blackness.

At his heels he heard the panting of the great beast and the soft pad of its paws on the hard ground. But the girl’s hand in his was cool and firm and she led him swiftly and surely through the blackness.

Chapter V Laonara!

Vance followed the girl for several minutes through the darkness of the twisting corridor. Finally a shaft of bright light fell at his feet as they made a right-angle turn, and in a few steps they were out of the tunnel, under the great arched vault of the red sky with its dual gleaming suns.

They were in a small clearing, formed naturally by erosion in the face of the sheer cliff which towered above them. There was only one other entrance from the tiny valley, and that was a winding trail that led up and over the ledge to the right.

The girl led him to the middle of the clearing and Vance noticed there was a worried, troubled look in her wide eyes.

“Is anything wrong?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. She made a slight gesture with her hand and the great Jbeast sank slowly to the ground, his solemn brown eyes fixed following her slightest motion. “I left some of my men here to wait for me,” she said anxiously. “If they thought I had been captured in the city they might have done something reckless.”

She stared about the clearing and her light, delicately arched eyebrows drew together in a faint frown.

Vance found himself staring at her almost incredible perfection of form and feature. She was clad simply in a single, closely fitting garment and her copper-tinted limbs were bare. Sandals laced over her narrow feet and she wore a wide belt about her waist, from which hung a slender, metallic rod with a faintly glowing tip.

She turned suddenly to him and put a hand on his arm. There was worry and tenseness in her mouth and eyes.

“There is much I must tell you,” she said, “and there is little time. It was I, Laonara, who brought you here. For many years, since I was a little girl, I ruled here in the city of Bondira, which is the largest city of our kingdom. Then Numari, the usurper, stole the throne and drove me into the forest, where I lived like a hunted thing with those of my subjects who were loyal and who were able to escape and come to me. I did not mind anything but the treatment Numari and his Grand Agent, Rakar, meted out to their subjects. That was the only reason I fought back; I couldn’t stand the thought of my people, who had always known peace and freedom, living and dying like slaves under the heel of Numari and his favored clique.”

Vance started to speak but Laonara held up one hand.

“Please let me finish. I think I know the questions you would ask. Your world is twice removed from ours, for it is in the third dimension. We are now in the fifth dimension. Long ago our scientists learned the secret of dimensional investigation and for years your civilization has been studied by the learned men of our kingdom. Our only thought was to attempt to improve our own development through the study of your science and culture. There was no method to pass from one dimension to another, but eventually even this secret was discovered. Our council decided that no one should make the attempt to bridge physically, the dimensional worlds, for we realized that our cultures and blood types would never successfully merge.

“Nevertheless, inter-dimensional travel was possible and Numari realized that, with the science of the third dimensions at his call, he could dominate and subjugate, not only this kingdom, but others as well, possibly even the kingdoms of your dimension. I can’t even imagine the scope of his madness. Numari did transport weapons and implements from your dimension, but he was unable to operate or duplicate them. This disobedience of his was the immediate cause of our falling out, which eventually resulted in his usurpation of the throne. But before I fled from the city I destroyed all of the laboratory apparatus and took with me the only remaining device for bridging the dimensional worlds.”

Vance’s eyes dropped to the slim rod hanging at her belt. Laonara touched it with her fingers.

“This is it. With it, I brought you here. I had no right to. I was violating our oldest law, but I was desperate. I had to have someone to help me, and this was the only way I knew to get help. Then, after I had succeeded in bringing you here, I almost lost you forever. I was waiting for you by the purple forest, but Numari and Rakar surprised me on one of their scouting trips. That is why, when you arrived, you met them instead of me. I was forced to flee with Shar for my life.”

“Shar?” Vance asked.

Laonara pointed to the great beast at her side.

“This is Shar.” She dropped her hand affectionately on one of the short thick horns which curled upward from his majestic head. “He is quite devoted to me. He has saved my life on a number of occasions. You are perfectly safe with him as long as I am here.”

The great beast rose to its feet as his mistress was speaking and began to pad about the clearing with a loping, restless gait. His head was raised slightly in a listening attitude. Something seemed to be bothering him, for a nervous whine was rumbling deep in his cavernous chest.

Laonara looked at him anxiously.

“Shar,” she whispered. “What is it?”

She looked up the sheer face of the cliff and her eyes were worried. She listened for a long moment, and then Vance saw the expression on her face suddenly change to one of alarm.

“Do you hear anything?” she asked tensely.

Vance listened and then shook his head.

“Not a thing,” he said.

Shar, the great lion-like animal, was circling the clearing at a fast lope. The mighty thews under his silken hide flashed and rippled with each stride. When he finally halted, he reared on his hind legs and scratched furiously against the face of the cliff. A tremendous, baffled roar rumbled in his throat.

Laonara gripped Vance’s arm tensely.

“Shar hears,” she cried. “My men have attacked the soldiers of Numari. They thought I had been trapped and they’re throwing their lives away in a direct onslaught against the city.”

“How many men do you have?” Vance asked quickly.

“Not more than two hundred.”

“And Numari?”

“He has several thousand mercenaries, but the people of the town will not be with him. If something happened to change the tide of the battle, they would turn on him immediately.”

“Your men are very brave,” Vance said simply. “They’re fighting against long odds.”

“And I stand here talking!” Laonara cried impatiently. “Shar! Here!”

As the mighty beast wheeled and trotted toward her, the girl turned to Vance and clasped his hand impulsively.

“The city is on the other side of the cliff, a long ride. I may not get there in time to fight with my men, but at least I can die with them. That is all that is left.”

She stripped the slim, metallic rod from her waist and closed his hand over it.

“This will take you back to your own world. Go quickly!”

She swung lightly to the back of Shar. “Goodbye!”

Her soft voice broke on the word.

The great animal lifted its head and charged across the clearing. His driving momentum carried him up the sloping path that led from the valley.

At the top of the ridge Laonara turned and waved to Vance. Her glorious hair was thrown back from her forehead and every line of her magnificent body was silhouetted against the blazing red sky as she lifted one hand in a farewell. Then, as Shar plunged forward, she was gone from sight in an instant.

Vance shouted to her, but the cliffs threw back his voice, futilely, mockingly. For an instant Vance stared helplessly at the ridge over which the girl and her mount had disappeared. Then his jaw hardened with determination. He didn’t intend to be counted out of this fight quite so easily. Ever since he had reached this incredible land he had been knocked from pillar to post without a chance to slug back. And Vane® Cameron was accustomed to slugging back.

A plan was already forming in his mind. It was wild and dangerous but there was nothing else for him to do.

Time was the imponderable element. If third dimension time and fifth dimension time were relative...

Feverishly, he studied the slender rod which Laonara had left with him. One end glowed whitely with a pale steady luminence. The other end was equipped with a sliding button that gave under the experimental pressure of his thumb.

For only an instant did he hesitate. Then he held the rod away from him and pressed the button down sharply.

A faint sputtering sounded at the glowing end of the tube and the white iridescence changed slowly but steadily to a bright flaming crimson. The glowing red light grew until it seemed that its flashing emanations flooded the entire valley. There was no sensation of heat, only the almost intolerable brilliance of the flaming light, growing brighter by the second.

Vance forced himself to stare directly at the core of the brilliant ball of light. Only for an instant did the light sear his eyes, then the sensation faded to a peculiarly restful feeling as if he were being mesmerized into a semi-comatose condition by the circle of light at the tip of the slender rod.

Gradually he felt the outlines of the clearing fade away and he seemed to be standing on the edge of a vast unfathomable nothingness. The color of the light was fading from crimson to black and the blackness at the core of the light stretched away like a corridor to infinity.

There was a powerful, undefinable attraction in that black passage-way and he stepped forward blindly, dazedly.

Then he was falling forward and the blackness enveloped him in a befogging, impenetrable cloud.

Consciousness left him.

Chapter VI

Vance opened his eyes in the familiar surroundings of his apartment. For an instant he stared stupidly, uncomprehendingly about, but as memory returned to him he stood up, his heart beating wildly.

He glanced at his watch but then he realized that relative time values of the two dimensions might be poles apart.

Crossing to the telephone, he dialed the municipal airport and talked to the superintendent, a man who knew of his R.A.F. record.

When he completed the call, he dropped the receiver back to its cradle and strode toward the door. He was still carrying the slender, glowing rod Laonara had given him and he slipped it into his pocket as he left the apartment...

At ten thousand feet Vance levelled out the trim, deadly Thunderbolt fighter he was flying. The ship was responsive to his lightest touch. He set the controls at dead center and locked them there. He made a rapid inspection of the instruments and the two forward cockpit guns, then removed the thin, metallic rod from his pocket.

He held it before him for an instant, hesitating. This was the biggest gamble he had ever made, and if luck wasn’t with him it would be his last.

Then he thought of courageous men fighting against oppression, led by a gallant, glorious girl, who was willing and glad to sacrifice her life with those of her loyal followers.

And he hesitated no longer.

His finger jammed down the button on the end of the rod and he watched anxiously as the familiar crimson light appeared, expanding by the second, flooding the cockpit and the sky with its red brilliance.

When the blackness began to appear at the core of the blazing crimson light he knew a moment of fear, but he held the rod directly in front of him and his eyes met the light in a steady, fixed stare.

Once again he felt himself losing touch with reality. The throbbing roar of the plane faded away to a muted hum. He saw nothing but the illimitable blackness of infinity stretching ahead of him and that blackness pulled him forward powerfully...

The drumming roar of the motor in his ears, the slip-stream of air past his face, these things awoke him from his coma-like sleep.

He raised his sagging head from his breast and rubbed a hand over his tired, aching eyes.

Then he looked up and saw two great green suns burning against a fiery red sky.

Consciousness returned with a snap.

A fierce exultation coursed through his veins like a powerful elixir as he realized that he had made it, that the dimensional bridge formed by the glowing rod had brought the plane safely across.

He was still flying at ten thousand feet. Unlocking the controls he swung the plane down in a sharp dive. For several minutes his gaze roved over the broad, barren terrain, then, in the distance and to his right, he saw the gleaming white buildings of the sprawling city of Bondira.

His pulses quickened as he levelled out and gunned the ship toward those alabaster landmarks.

What if he were too late? Maybe the fight had been over for years, or maybe it would occur in some future time.

He gritted his teeth savagely. No! He must be in time.

When he flashed over the city and peered down he saw a sight that raised his hopes.

There were men fighting in the streets and he spotted the majority of them as the gray-clad mercenaries of Numari.

He banked the plane and dropped down. The focal point of the battle seemed to be in front of Numari’s council building. On the steps and approaches of the building was a handful of men, fighting desperately against the steadily advancing grayclad ranks.

As he flashed over their heads he had a fleeting, thrilling image of Laonara, astride the mighty beast, Shar, fighting magnificently in the fore of the ragged, hopelessly outnumbered group on the steps of the building.

Vance swung around and dove toward the thickly massed troops of Numari, a grim smile twisting his lips.

His hands pressed the firing button. A chattering chant of death broke from the muzzles of the guns. He flicked the tail of the ship, spreading the devastating blast of his guns in hundred-foot swaths, cutting through Numari’s troops like an invisible scythe.

He swung the plane about in a tight bank and roared back over the heads of the gray-clad mercenaries. Holding his fire, he watched them scatter, as they broke their formations and fled madly. And he saw Laonara’s troops closing their ranks and starting after the disorganized mercenaries.

For Several minutes he followed the fleeing, routed troops of Numari, cutting them down like an avenging nemesis, until he saw them flinging away their weapons and dropping to the ground in surrender.

Banking again, he circled over the gleaming white council building of Numari, which now, he knew, would again be Laonara’s.

He settled down to a few hundred feet and circled until he saw the soldiers of Laonara returning.

Laonara, herself, was leading the small band, head flung back, hair streaming in the wind.

Vance felt a sharp, strange pang as he looked on her splendid, glorious beauty, for he knew that he was seeing her for probably the last time.

She had stopped now and, with Shar at her side, was looking up at his plane.

Vance lifted his hand in salute to her and to her courageous followers, for he knew he was not going to land. There was room for a landing, but he was afraid that he might never take-off again if he stood once more at Laonara’s side.

And he had to keep on flying. His job wasn’t done yet. Laonara’s fight for freedom had been won, but he still had a battle on his hands.

She answered his wave. There was a pleading uncertainty in the gesture, but Vance knew she’d understand, eventually, why he was leaving.

With a roaring climb he hurled the Thunderbolt up into the red heavens and his finger pressed the button on the slim, metallic rod.

He smiled faintly as the glowing crimson flame suffused the cock-pit, for he realized that he would always have the means of returning to this land and to its glorious queen.

But not until his own fight had been won. His smile turned to a grin as the blackness swept toward him. He had a hunch that it wasn’t going to be such a long wait.