Dwight V. Swain

“ With an effort, Haral held his face immobile. "Now you speak as a woman, not a goddess. Kyla was your priestess. I sought her only to guide me to you."
Xaymar pushed back from him. "Have a care how you lie to me, blue man! I looked into your mind while you lay unconscious. She was there, that Kyla! Your first thoughts were of her!"
Haral let his words go harsh and angry: "You still talk like a jealous woman! She gave me only trouble. I care nothing for her."
"Trouble? That was all she gave you?" Xaymar taunted. Her lips twisted. "Then you'll be happy to hear what I've done with her, warrior!" ”

“ Like an echo to her words, a shadow fell across the inverted crystal bowl in which they stood.
Incredulously, Haral shot a fast glance skyward. An icy knot took form deep in his midriff.
Where mere seconds before he had gazed up into the bright, clear yellow of the Ulnese day, now clouds were swirling! Before his very eyes, they grew and darkened.
Through his haze of shock, Xaymar's words came dimly:
"A storm is a dynamo, blue one—a dynamo greater than it lies within man's power even to conceive! It generates the lightning. Mighty bolts crash from it down to earth—spent, wasted. ”

“ Haral shrugged, not turning. Dimly, the priestess' words drifted to him through the haze of his own dark thoughts and feelings:
"Your life has been bitter, warrior—as empty as the void itself. But the thing you've sought, the thing you seek, is not an empire, no matter what you think. Even if fate should give you the power of which you dream, its savor would turn to ashes in your mouth." ”

“ Xaymar's ripe lips parted. "Your tongue is skilled, blue man! It alone should carry you to your empire!"
"But does that skilled tongue have truth, too, my goddess? Or is it so practiced that now it lies by instinct?" It was Kyla who lashed out, from a place close by the dais. Passion had brought hot color to her cheeks.
"They lie, my goddess! All these aliens lie!" she rushed on fiercely. "Hate and greed are the only creed they know. Already Ulna lies drenched in the blood they've shed—the blood of your followers, ground down by these monsters to slaves or less. ”

“ And I shall dream of you a thousand years, my warrior...."
Then Kyla's tears were on his cheeks, too; her soft lips pressed against his. And there was peace in him at last, and he was at one with his dreams, his destiny.
Naked, still as death, the veiled woman-goddess men called Xaymar rested on a gold-draped dais within a great, glowing, crystal ball.
Xaymar, passionate goddess, queen of storms. Ruler of rain and wind and lightning, empress of all the surging forces that spread their tumult across the sky. Sainted monster, evil savior. Old as time, and young as folly. ”

“ Make me prove it!" the raider chieftain spat. "It's simple, warrior! Just trigger a beam from your light-lance through me! As I die, I'll still throw the switch, and there will be your answer!"
Haral sat very still. He was gripping his lance's shaft so hard that the very bones of his fingers ached. A thin rill of sweat ran down his spine. Yet he could not fight off the spell of shock that gripped him.
As if sensing it, Sark spoke once more in coaxing tones: "You make your task hard, warrior. There is an easier way. Give up this madness, this trying to beat me and destroy me. ”

“ Haral flicked on his lance's illumination cell just long enough to glimpse the scene about them.
A prickling ran up and down his spine. For they walked a corridor of death, a passage carpeted with bones ... the bones of those who once had ruled this mighty city. A thousand skulls stared up at them, a hollow-eyed horror. Skeletons spread in heaps and tangles, rising on all sides like some rank, evil fungus.
Kyla's voice came through the darkness: "You wonder why we hate all aliens, warrior? Once, a thousand years ago, this was our proudest Shamon city. ”

“ As if there had been no interruption, Xaymar said: "You wonder why I let Sark go. But I had no choice. He told of a thing called a cymosynthesizer with which he could destroy our planetoid of Ulna."
"And if he lied—?"
"He did not. I looked into his brain and saw he spoke the truth as best he knew it."
"You ... looked into his brain?"
"I have that power." Xaymar's smile was cryptic, whether with dark mirth or ancient wisdom Haral could not say. "Thoughts to me are things to grasp like tools or weapons. When I focus my brain I can turn another mind inside out and drain it dry." ”

“ Xaymar laughed again. "We'll wait!" she mocked him. "We'll wait till the light goes on—or a coleopteron rips out your backbone!"
Haral stood motionless. His hands all at once were slick with sweat.
Xaymar's ripe body came full against him. Her hands touched his face, pulled his lips down to hers. Then—fiercely, brutally—as he had kissed her, she kissed him.
Her words came, a vibrant whisper: "You are the one who's mad, blue man! But it is a madness that can lead you to your own dark destiny—if you live!" ”

“ Haral laughed aloud. "And what happens to the woman—Xaymar's priestess, Kyla?" he challenged harshly. "Her body's pressed next to mine. Can your blasters kill me, and let her live? Can they burn my armor through, yet leave her still unharmed?" Again he laughed, and the fierce recklessness he felt poured out in hot, slashing words. "No, Sark! You can't afford to have her die, no matter how you'd shame her or abuse her to break her spirit and make her speak. For though you talk of the old high priest, Namboina, you can't know for sure how much she told him. ”

“ Haral tried to probe the blankness that was her veil; to fathom the mind of this strange woman who hid her beauty behind its jewel-sprayed folds.
At last he said: "You've picked the wrong man, Xaymar. I'm a warrior, yes—but not such a fool that I'll try to lead your ground-bound hordes out to battle against space ships. The wars of the void are fought in the air, not down in the muck and mire of a pygmy planetoid. Sark would butcher your beetles from above before they'd marched a mile." ”

“ Xaymar. Woman and death, the end of a madman's quest.
The great crystal globe that cased her rested atop a dais in the center of an echoing, high-roofed chamber. Pulsing, aglow with strange life, its radiance fought back the crypt's impinging gloom.
Haral swayed for a moment under the impact of the sight, his wounds forgotten. Excitement raced through him.
But Sark's men held him by either arm, and others penned him in front and behind, and Sark himself sat in the riding-chair mere feet away, his hand never straying from the cymosynthesizer switch. ”

“ He repeated the blue man's words as if he liked their flavor. "No, no, you starbo. I'd not do that. Not now; not ever. It's far too quick a way for you to die."
"You'll do your worst, so do as you like." Haral forced himself to shrug despite the pain.
Sark smirked. "Of course. But first there's another task we must attend."
"Another task—?"
"Yes, now that you two have opened up the way." Sark chuckled, deep in his throat. His fat-rimmed eyes gleamed like tiny, vicious stars. "We go now to waken the living goddess, Xaymar, queen of storms, so that she can deliver her secret into my hands!" ”

“ It was a world of dangerous men, this Ulna; an outlaw world, tumultuous haven for the hunter and the hunted. The scum of the spaceways had gathered here, dregs of the void—rabble quick to anger, quick to kill. Pervods of Venus brushed shoulders with Earthmen. Chonyas and Malyas stalked among strange mutants, weird life-forms drawn from a dozen far-flung planets.
Yet none came forth to challenge Haral. For those who eyed and measured him gave special attention to the slender, deadly, light-lance that was his weapon. ”

“ He tried to think of Kyla.
But what was Kyla? Why should he die for a girl called Kyla when he could live and have his dreams and Xaymar?
Kill the man-things.
Blonde hair, and a slim young body. Courage, and a head held proudly.
Xaymar. Power, and ripe lips, hot with passion.
Kill the man-things.
"Kiss me, warrior." A jeweled veil-mask.
What did it hide?
Kill the man-things!
But Kyla.... No—! Not even for power could he give up Kyla! Not send her to her death, to the coleoptera—!
Something snapped inside Haral. The world went mad. ”

“ You are a warrior worthy of the name! In you there's iron instead of meal. That is why I come to you to kill this woman—"
"A woman—?" Haral repeated dully. He swirled the fiery kabat in his glass. "Why should I kill a woman?"
"Because I'll pay you well," the Shamon priest croaked eagerly. Coins clinked onto the table. "Here, look! Two hundred samori, Sha Haral! So much for such a simple task—enough to send you out again from Ulna, to put you once more on the road to wealth and power, ambition...."
Broodingly, Haral stared down into the kabat's green, too-potent depths. ”

“ He spat, and his face contorted. "Warrior? I'll teach you to call yourself a warrior, starbo! You talked bold, you zanat, when you rode in here with your hwalon and your armor and your light-lance. But there's kabat in your veins instead of blood. Now you'll learn to crawl, and beg for death!"
Haral stood very still. A haze seemed to hang over the leering crowd, the blood and dirt, the yellow sky.
How had Sark said it, that other time? "Why have you come so long a way to die?"
Here it had begun. Here it was ending.
This was his destiny.
And here was Kyla. Here was Xaymar.... ”

“ I want the secret—your goddess, your queen of storms—"
"But I cannot—"
"You can! You will!" Fiercely, he shook her. "Where is she, Kyla? Where does she lie, this woman-goddess, Xaymar?"
The girl went limp in his grasp. Tears brimmed her eyes.
Slowly, Haral straightened. He let go the priestess' slim shoulders. "Can't you see?" he grated tightly. "Can't you understand? Now, this very moment, Sark's hunting for your doddering high priest, Namboina. When he catches him—and he will catch him, have no doubt of that—he'll tear your goddess's hiding-place from him like a tooth from the socket. ”

“ It is my duty to save Kyla from shame, our goddess from defilement—"
Haral said: "You lie in your teeth, Namboina! I've heard enough of your thrice-plagued Xaymar to know that she's called the passionate goddess—and her priestesses pattern themselves upon her! If there's a virgin still among them, it's news to the raider fleets that comb these warrens in search of women."
"No, no—! Not Kyla!" The Shamon's loose mouth worked. His face was a mask of desperation. "She is a votary, consecrated. She is not as the others—"
Haral shoved back his chair; surged to his feet. ”

“ Cautiously, Haral tilted back his battered copronium headpiece. It had rendered strange service in its day, that scarred old helm; but none stranger than this. For by some weird clash between its metal and certain electrocephalic wave-pulsations, it guarded his brain from the probing beetle minds, just as Kyla's bucket-like Ulnese heaume—designed for the purpose—guarded hers.
Now, as Haral lifted the helmet, thought-vibrations washed in on him in throbbing waves: "Man-things, man-things! Find the man-things! Kill the man-things! Kill, kill, kill!" ”

“ A dozen fighting men from Sark's raider crews were coming towards him and Namboina. Spread in a menacing arc, weapons out and ready, they closed in like cold-eyed, deadly shadows.
Haral fell back a step, till he stood with his back against the wall. Big-eyed with fear, Namboina slumped in his seat, as if trying to hide behind the table.
It came to Haral that a hush had fallen over the kabat dive. The raucous voices had faded into silence. The rattle of glasses was suddenly stilled.
Then a glowering Martian who seemed to be in charge of the raider gang snapped orders: "Yes. This is the one. ”

“ Why didn't you stay with your thrice-cursed beetles?"
But Kyla's voice stayed calm ... so calm it sent new fury through him.
She said: "I have no quarrel with you, warrior; and the thing you did for me is worth more credit than your words would ever give it. That is why I say that power will never fill the hunger in you. What you need is a cause to fight for and to live for, not greed and blood and booty."
"So you'd like to see me play the fool for Ulna! You want me, single-handed, to take on Sark and Xaymar and the coleoptera!"
As Haral lashed out, the hwalon topped another ridge. ”

“ Haral stared at him, unbelieving. "You mean—?"
"I mean that I hold the power to destroy this whole world within my hand!" Sark cried in sudden, explosive anger. "This is my protection against you and all others! I have but to throw this switch, and Ulna itself will be torn asunder—and you and the woman and all else with it! If I die, you die, also! That is my answer to you, chitza!"
Haral said tightly: "You lie! No cymosynthesizer can set up an initiating wave strong enough to tear apart a whole planet!" ”