Tower Of The Medusa

15. THE TRIUMPH OF VALKYR

Temujin waited a long time before the portal that led into the Iron Tower. Night passed slowly, and at length a dull grey morning dawned over the rim of Pelizon. Still he waited on, feeling neither weariness nor hunger.

After a long time, Kirin emerged into view and stood in the gateway. He was nearly naked, his garments torn away, his body battered and bloody and smeared with dirt. His face was haggard and worn, but his dark eyes gleamed with accomplishment.

Under his arm was a bundle about the size of a human skull. It was wrapped in gorgeous silken stuff of dark glittering purple, but vagrant gleams of light escaped through the folds of the wrappings. It seemed very heavy, from the careful way the Earthling handled it.

Temujin hurried up to where Kirin leaned exhaustedly in the doorway. Kirin regarded him with a wry grin.

“Well, I made it,” he said hoarsely. He did not add by the skin of my teeth. Once he had correctly guessed the illusory nature of the abyss before the inmost door, his path was cleared of all obstacles. The door opened at a touch. Within he had found a room of hewn stone, with a rough altar which bore the mighty crystal, cloaked in the sparkling, night-dark silks.

The way back had been straight and simple: an unobstructed passage that led directly to the front portal, avoiding the many twists and turns of the hazardous way in. He felt battered and drained, but triumphant.

He had done what no other being had done since Time began. He had stolen the Heart of Kom Yazoth, and the key to the control of the Universe lay in the bend of his arm.

Temujin came toward him with quick light steps, one hand thrust out.

“Give it to me now. You will be well paid,” the fat little Magician said. Through the haze of his exhaustion, Kirin noticed but did not pay mind to the air of strangeness that clung about the doctor. Had he been in full possession of his faculties, he might have wondered at the glaze in Temujin’s eye, the lack of expression on his face, the mechanical tone of his voice. But these things he did not notice.

“Uh, sure,” he grunted, peering around. “Where’s Caola?”

“She is nearby, resting. Let me have the Medusa now.”

“Sure. Any sign of Zarlak and his Dwarves?”

“None whatsoever. All has been quiet. I will take the—”

Kirin straightened. His eyes were reluctant.

“Yeah, all right. But here, let’s have a look at it. We’ve been through a lot for this chunk of junk; let’s see what we got.” He pulled the silks away and held the gem up into the light so Temujin could see it.

It was an oval mass of glittering crystal, dull and cloudy and opaque. Like a thick glass egg. Unfaceted, rough-hewn, and heavy as lead.

Thick, curdled radiance coiled within it. It flashed with small star-like flakes of gemfire. Light shone from it, dimly green and gold. The coiled luminance within stirred sluggishly, and throbbed like a beating heart. Light ebbed from it in slow pulsating waves.

“Pretty enough,” Kirin grunted. Then he turned a curious gaze on the Magician.

Temujin had frozen into immobility the instant his eyes had lighted upon the uncovered Medusa. He stood stiffly, un-moving, his face dead, without animation.

“What’s wrong with you?” Kirin asked. He had momentarily forgotten that a glimpse of the Medusa paralyzes the will of all who look upon it, save for him who holds it.

“I am… under the will… of Zarlak,” Temujin said dully. “But the sight… of the crystal… broke that spell. Now you… are master!”

“What? How did Zarlak—”

Temujin continued in a thick, lifeless voice that sounded like a man trying to speak through lips numbed by novocaine.

“The Veiled One came upon us shortly after you entered the Tower… his Dwarves seized the lass and myself… he worked a spell upon my mind… forcing me to obey his will…”

“What were you supposed to do?” Kirin demanded harshly.

“Wait for you here and… demand the gem of you… when you came out. Then… uncover the jewel and… put you under its spell…”

“But now there has been a change in plans.”

The cold, grating voice spoke from somewhere off to his left. Kirin turned and saw that the ground had opened up, revealing a secret underground tunnel with a cunningly-disguised trapdoor. No wonder his heat-detector had not disclosed the hiding-place of the Death Dwarves! They had been underground, waiting in the tunnel, while he only scanned the surface of the ground!

Now Zarlak stood in the tunnel entrance, his face carefully turned away so that he would not come under the awesome power of the crystal. There were a score of the little ugly men with three eyes with him. Their eyes were bandaged in black cloth so that their wills were not seized by the rapture of the Medusa. Kirin saw that they held Caola helpless.

“Well, a clever trick,” Kirin grunted sourly. “Too bad it didn’t work. I hold the Medusa and you dare not send your men against me. They can’t fight blindfolded this way, and if they catch a glimpse of the stone… they become my men, don’t they?” He grunted a coarse laugh. “Looks like a checkmate to me, Zarlak.”

“Not,” Zarlak said suavely, “while I hold your ‘queen’, Earthling.” His voice dropped to a throaty purr. “Cover the gem and set it down and back away, unless you would like to watch while my servant Vulkaar carves his name on the wench’s breasts.”

Kirin felt a leaden weight gather in his guts. Suddenly he felt very, very tired. It had been a long fight, and it was lost, that was all. Lost. To hell with the Medusa! Let this madman have it from now on: what did he care? All he wanted was something to eat and drink, and a place to lie down and sleep for a while. Let the star worlds look after themselves. Why should he, Kirin of Tellus, star thief, be the guardian of their destinies?

“All right, you win,” he heard himself croak in a dull voice. “Let the girl go. You can have the crystal. Here—”

He held it out, offering—

And the god Valkyr woke within him.

He felt a supernatural power surge up through every tingling nerve and cell and tissue of his body. He felt a new level of awareness spring to life within his waking mind. With the last faint vestiges of his waning energies, the god struck out at Kirin’s right hand.

Agony seared his nerves! As if his hand was suddenly thrust to the wrist in boiling water!

He snatched his hand back.

And the crystal fell.

And shattered against the paving stone of the doorway.

There fell a hush. No one spoke or moved. Kirin gaped at the broken shards of crystal. Temujin, released from the spell of the stone, stared down at its ruin. Zarlak froze, transfigured with fury and despair, his blazing eyes of cold flame riveted on the wreckage of all his plans.

The Heart of Kom Yazoth was broken. Naught remained of it but scattered fragments of bright dust. The curdled, coiling fires within had flickered, and died.

Kirin felt a vast and nameless sorrow well up within him. For a moment he had held the key to the Universe in his hand. Power over a thousand worlds had been in his grasp. He could have been a king, an Emperor, the Overlord of the Galaxy, and he had let the chance slip through his fingers—literally.

A hoarse, terrible cry burst from Zarlak. Kirin turned to stare, and felt a weird sensation—awe, fear and a sort of holy dread. He looked up; they all were looking up.

The heavens rolled aside like a scroll.

The gods stood amidst the stars, staring down at them.

They were vast and awesome, cloudy titanic figures crowned with glory, robed with the thunders.

Their shoulders were like the mountains. Millions of years lay upon them like a cloak.

Their faces were blinding. A man could not look upon them, or meet the brilliance of their supernal gaze.

Rise up, O Valkyr our Brother, for the time of thy punishment is over and done!

And Valkyr rose. A tide of dazzling power passed through Kirin’s body and was gone. A presence that had slept within him all his life was gone. He felt a strange sort of inward emptiness, a loneliness beyond words, for the silent, sleeping companion of all his days had departed from him.

A cloud of splendor, Valkyr the Hero of Heaven rose to join his starry brethren.

Long hast thou gone in banishment, deprived of all but a vestige of thy powers, the gods spake. But thou hast now done reparation for thy sins of old; when the mortal, in his weakness, would have surrendered the Heart into the hands of the servants of evil for the saving of the girl, thou didst drain the strength from his fingers, destroying the Heart for ever! Hail unto thee, O Valkyr, thine exile is over. Thy powers and potencies are given unto thee again, and thou art made welcome among the ranks of the Eternals …

And Valkyr rose and stood amidst the shining giants who were the Lords of Life. Young and strong and fair he was, for all his aeons, and a sword of many lightnings lay against his thigh. His face was a glory like unto the sun itself.

O Elder Brothers, he said, what of these mortals who have aided my age-long quest? I would reward them for their help…

And the gods made answer, saying,

They have each already found their reward.

And Valkyr asked, And what of this Tower that now lieth empty? It hath no longer any purpose. So let it perish, lest it continue to tempt the greedy into peril.. .

Lightning flashed from the heavens. Thunder grumbled and the ground shook under their feet. The frozen Dwarves staggered off balance.

Kirin shouted: “Caola! Now!”

The girl tore loose from the hands of her captors and came running across the stony land towards the Earthling. The ground jumped and shuddered again. She tripped and fell, and Kirin picked her up in his arms.

“Doc!” he yelled. “Let’s get out of here.”

With old Temujin puffing at his side and the girl huddled in his arms, the Earthling stretched his long legs. They headed away from the Tower.

Breath seared his panting lungs. The rocky soil slapped against the soles of his boots. They ran into the wilderness and the primeval structure shrank behind them. At the crest of the hills they paused to catch their breath. Temujin plucked at his sleeve, pointing behind them.

“Look, lad!” he wheezed.

He turned and looked back.

Lightning flickered in the stormy skies. Tongues of white flame shot from heaven to lick out against the mighty Tower. It shuddered under the impact of the electric fire.

It began to come apart.

There was a grating sound of stone on stone. A black crack zigzagged through the facing wall of the Tower. Earth shuddered like a frightened thing. Fragments of facing crumbled and fell away, pelting against the stony plateau. More cracks shot through the grainy rock surface of the ancient building. It trembled to the rumble of subterranean thunders.

Zarlak still stood rooted with awe and terror and despair with his frightened horde about him. One extended an arm and shrieked something. From where they stood on the crest of the hills, Kirin and his friends could not make out his words, but the meaning was obvious.

As they watched, a tremendous slab of stone broke away from the first tier of the Tower. Its shadow fell over Zarlak and he looked up. A hoarse scream of fear and rage was torn from his lips as the massive slab of dark stone came thundering down to bury him under a hill of rubble.

Slowly, the mighty masses of shattered rock rained down on the trembling plateau. Whirling dust clouds rose, obscuring the wreckage of the Iron Tower. Through the seething dust the baleful flicker of lightning-fire blazed on.

The Tower was fallen. It had withstood the assaults of the slow aeons of time, but before the cleansing fire of the gods it could not stand. No longer would the legend of the Tower beckon to the greed and lust for power in the hearts of men.

The gods, whether they were gods in truth, or merely some extra-dimensional race of super-evolved beings far beyond man in power and wisdom and glory, were gone. The skies were veiled in the darkling wings of storm.

As they staggered across the shuddering plateau, whipped by bitter winds and scourged by gusts of blinding dust, Kirin felt tired and battered, but content.

The quest was done. The Heart was destroyed. Never could it be used by Zarlak or the Witch Queen, who now were dead. Nor would any third power-maddened schemer arise to seek it out, its danger was ended.

Holding the sobbing girl in his arms, Kirin felt a strange warmth and tenderness. He had known many women. But he had never known love… until now.

His hand still ached from the touch of the God. Perhaps the tingling paralysis would pass with time. Or perhaps he would never completely recover the use of the hand. It did not matter. Although a one-handed thief would find things difficult, he cared not. With the wealth that Trevelon had promised him he could purchase a luxurious villa on one of the pleasure-worlds on the borders of Valdamar’s Empire. He need never pursue his criminal career further.

Which was just as well, considering. The girl’s cheek lay warm and soft against his jaw. Her silken hair was whipped by the wind against his face. The heady perfume of her rose to his nostrils. He grinned.

A married man should find a lawful occupation, he thought, with a smile. They staggered on.

And then the sleek hull of the ship loomed before them, as it sensed their nearness and turned off the invisibility-baffles. The airlock opened, they were safe at last, and the long story was done.