“But you have seen the hieroglyphs on the great sandstone obelisks,And you have talked with Basilisks, and you have walked with hippogriffs. . .”
“But you have seen the hieroglyphs on the great sandstone obelisks,And you have talked with Basilisks, and you have walked with hippogriffs. . .”
“But you have seen the hieroglyphs on the great sandstone obelisks,And you have talked with Basilisks, and you have walked with hippogriffs. . .”
“But you have seen the hieroglyphs on the great sandstone obelisks,
And you have talked with Basilisks, and you have walked with hippogriffs. . .”
They were at the fort. Nothing could be seen beyond a palisade of strong, dully-gleaming metal. But a bell rang sharply; a gate opened, and a man in legionnaire uniform appeared.
Even in the odd light his face seemed strangely pallid—drained of all color, like bleached papyrus. He was gaunt and fleshless almost to the point of emaciation, so that his eyes and mouth were black hollows. It seemed as though a skull wore the rakish Legion cap atop its dome.
He saluted, and Brady responded.
“Hello, Jacklyn. Tell Commander Desquer I’m here.”
Jacklyn stood aside to let the others enter. Tony discovered that within the palisade were a dozen metal shacks, prefabricated, and without sign of life. So this would be their home from now on!
Brady said, “Well? Didn’t you—”
Jacklyn’s voice was strained. “Glad you’re back, sir. The commander left for the surface an hour ago. He got a message. . . . There’s trouble, sir. The Copts—they’ve kidnapped Ruggiero.”
Captain Brady looked at his fingernails. “It’s full moon, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right. I need four men. Completely armed. We’ll leave as soon as they’re ready.”
Jacklyn hurried away. Tony asked, “Is this—the usual thing, down here?”
Brady shook his head. “No. At full moon the Copts choose a victim to represent Osiris. The Husband of Isis. Usually it’s all done quietly, and the sacrifice is a Copt, of course.”
Jimmy inquired rather weakly, “What sort of sacrifice is it?”
“Degenerate form of Egyptian religion. According to legend, Seth, the evil god, was jealous of Osiris. He put him to death, tearing his body into fourteen pieces. The Copts are . . . literal-minded.”
Brady sucked in his breath. “I wish I knew more of their mythos. The ceremony glorifies Isis of the Moon. A Copt has always served before. But now . . .” He pulled at the clipped gray moustache. “Ruggiero has been taken to Alu to be sacrificed. This means trouble—plenty of it.” But there was no fear in the sunken eyes; only excited anticipation. “Alu! The Land of Light!”
And suddenly Tony understood. For years Brady had wondered about the half-mythical cavern world below, a place forbidden to him by rigid rules. Now, in the absence of the commander, it was Brady’s duty to rescue the kidnapped legionnaire. His duty—and his chance.
Tony said, “Let us go with you, captain. Eh?”
Jimmy and Phil exchanged surprised glances. Then Phil nodded. “Yeah! How about it?”
Brady hesitated. “You’re untrained. You don’t know the ropes—”
“We know how to handle guns.”
“Carbon-pistols?”
“We can learn easily enough.”
“Yes . . . they’re simple. But—all right,” the captain said with sudden decision. “You’re new, and that means you’re not scared stiff of Alu. The three of you and Jacklyn. Right!”
He bawled for the skull-faced man. “Jacklyn! Get equipment! I’m taking these three recruits.Allons!”
Tony grinned at his brothers. Their introduction to the Legion was to be exciting, after all—if not fatal!
CHAPTER IVSub-Sahara
Jacklyn said, “Fifty years nearly I’ve been here. It never changes. First time I’ve ever seen the Copts get out of hand. Sure, they’d try to get out once in a while to butcher the Bedouins, but they never had anything against us. Funny.”
The group was marching swiftly through a dim tunnel, Captain Brady in the lead, the others trailing. They had been moving for an hour, in a labyrinth of passages through which the captain unerringly found his way. Now he looked back and remarked:
“That’s right. I know this maze pretty well, but Jacklyn knows it blindfolded. He’s practically a Copt himself. Hasn’t been above ground for fifty years.”
“You must like it here,” Jimmy remarked.
Jacklyn said, very softly, “It’s hell. You been in New York lately? Yeah? How does the old burg look now?”
“It’s changed in fifty years,” Phil said. “But you know that already.”
“Times Square, though—that’s there, eh? I remember I used to feel empty whenever I got out of the old town. God, I’d like to see it again—but not on a televisor. In fact,” he went on slowly, “I’d like to smell fresh air again. Not this artificial ventilation. See starlight and green growing things.”
“And the Sun,” Jimmy nodded understandingly. He glanced at Jacklyn—and then caught his breath at sight of the expression on the legionnaire’s pallid face. Horror—and hate!
It was gone immediately. Jacklyn ignored the remark. He said, “I was one of the first spacemen. There’ve been plenty of improvements since my time, what with liquid fuels instead of powder, and those new magnetic induced-gravity screens they’re working on. But it’s like shipping, I guess—steam or sail, it’ll never really change. There’ll be the sea under you, or space around you. We—”
“Sh-h!” Brady held up a warning finger. “Hold it!”
They paused, but no sound came. The captain relaxed.
“Thought I heard an explosion. Guess not. Well—by the way, are you sure you know how to use the carbon-pistols?”
“It’s not hard,” Tony said. He took out his weapon, resembling an oversized revolver with a cup-shaped hollow where the hammer should have been. From his pocket he withdrew a bit of coal, slipped it into the cup, where prongs held it firmly in place, and hefted the gun. “Not so easy to sight as a Colt, but the force-charge scatters, doesn’t it?”
Jacklyn said, “Right. Watch the recoil, though. Ease the trigger-button down. And don’t run out of coal.”
“Funny,” Tony remarked. “Coal doesn’t seem much good in a pistol.”
Captain Brady laughed a little. “The thing’s based on atomic force—liberation of quanta, though I don’t understand the scientific principles of it myself. Works only on carbon. Coal’s carbon—and cheap. So, if the Copts get out of hand, we fight ’em with the coal they dig for us. Rather unfair, but it’s all in the Legion’s work.”
“Practically everything is,” Tony said dryly. “How much farther, captain?”
“We’ve been going down steadily—wait! Here’s someone. Don’t touch your guns unless I give the word.”
Tony stared ahead. For a second he saw nothing; then abruptly the tunnel was filled with a dozen bizarre figures. Clad in skin-fitting garments of unfamiliar texture, white-skinned, with blue veins showing plainly through the flesh, the men’s faces were aquiline and strong, with beaked noses and abnormally large eyes, in which the pupils nearly eclipsed the irises. The Copts’ hair—they had none on their faces—was like bleached straw, tightly curled. They seemed unarmed, yet Brady’s whole body subtly tensed as he stood waiting.
The foremost of the Copts, taller than the rest, and wearing a tapering headdress, came forward, hand lifted. He spoke in English.
“Captain Brady, why are you here?”
Brady said, “If any harm comes to a legionnaire, it will not be well with the Copts, priest.”
The man nodded. “I understand. That was a mistake. Some of our younger men—they have already been suitably punished for meddling in affairs beyond them. Your legionnaire is back in the fort, Captain Brady. You will find him there if you return.”
Tony detected a half-veiled glance the priest sent at his fellows. Brady saw it also, and tugged at his moustache.
“You are speaking true words?”
“I speak true words.”
“Suppose we do not believe. Suppose we—go on.”
A stir shook the Copts; they looked at one another askance. The priest said, “The Moon passages begin not far from here. Those you may not enter.”
Brady seemed undecided. “We shall go back. But if our man is not safely in the fort—”
The priest’s smile was apparently guileless. “He will be there.”
“All right. About face!Allons!”
Tony turned with the others. But before a foot was lifted there came an interruption. The priest’s voice was raised in an urgent command in an unfamiliar tongue. He, with the others, had seen the bloodstained, tattered, huge figure that sprang out from concealment behind a rock.
“Kill those men!” a bull voice shouted. “Blast ’em down!”
“Commander Desquer!” Brady clipped—and then—
“Out guns!”
For from the ranks of the Copts a pale ray had lanced, striking full upon Desquer’s bison chest, bared by a tattered tunic. Another ray touched Tony; he felt a wave of intolerable heat as he snatched out the carbon-gun at his belt.
Cr-rack!Brady’s weapon snarled viciously, and the heat-ray left Tony. He slipped a coal-cartridge into the cup and triggered almost without aiming. The deadly little guns worked havoc. But there were almost a dozen Copts, and for a few moments the tunnel was a chaotic Maelstrom of battle, dominated by Desquer’s deep voice roaring commands.
“Get them! All of them! Aim at their bellies!”
Smoke drifted away. The Copts lay in helpless huddles amid red stains. Tony lowered his gun and stared around anxiously. Jimmy was painfully rubbing his arm where a heat-ray had cindered the cloth. Phil was apparently untouched, and so was Jacklyn, but Captain Brady was rubbing his thigh and cursing quietly. As for Commander Desquer, it was impossible to judge whether he had been injured in the conflict. He was already wounded in a dozen places.
Tony’s fascinated gaze clung to the man. The mighty body was thewed like an auroch-bull, the matted, deep chest heaving convulsively with exhaustion. The commander’s head was shaved, but nevertheless there was something leonine about his face. Shaggy, tufted eyebrows overhung glittering small eyes, and thick, sensual lips were pressed tightly together. Desquer reminded Tony, somehow, of a Nero or a Caligula—a degenerate Roman despot.
Now Desquer flung back his huge head in an arrogant gesture. “Jacklyn! See if the priest’s got a healing-ray. We need it.” As the legionnaire hurried forward the commander turned his eyes to the others. Tony felt a curious shiver ripple down his spine as the cold gaze touched him. Desquer looked long and intently at Tony, and not until he had stared equally long at Phil and Jimmy did he turn his attention to Brady.
“The fort’s gone,” he said. “The Copts smashed it and massacred every man. They blew up the shaft to the surface just after I reached Sub-Sahara. I just managed to get away . . . the cavern’s overrun with ’em.”
Jacklyn came back with a small flat box, in which a lens was set. He touched a button and turned the lens to focus upon Brady’s thigh.
“Thanks . . . up a bit . . . You know they kidnapped Ruggiero?”
Desquer nodded “Yes. I found a Copt alone and induced him to give me a little information.” He glanced at his hands, took out a small knife, and began to clean his nails. “What this means I don’t know. Ajehad—a holy war, possibly. Though it’s without precedent.”
The captain lifted his hand. “Enough, Jacklyn. Tend to the commander.”
But Desquer shook his head impatiently. “No time.” He drew Brady aside, as Jacklyn turned to the others. The two officers withdrew a few steps and lowered their voices.
Tony stared at the lensed box as Jacklyn used it on Jimmy’s arm. “What the devil’s that?”
“A gadget the Copts have. Nobody knows how it works. They don’t themselves. It was handed down . . . it’s a ray that increases cell activity. Builds up cell tissue. Prevents infection . . . how’s that?”
“Swell,” said Jimmy, touching his arm. “It still hurts a bit, though.”
“It won’t for long—”
Desquer said, “You three recruits—listen to me. We’re going down. Into Alu. Jacklyn, you’ll go for help.”
The skull-faced legionnaire’s body jerked convulsively. He stared at the commander.
“For—help?”
Desquer nodded. “Right. You know these caves. There are other openings to the surface. Get help. We’ll hide out and wait for you. The Copts won’t expect us to go right to their headquarters, so that’s just what we’ll do.”
“But—” Jacklyn moistened dry lips. “I’ll have to go to the surface?” There was a curious note of horror in his voice.
“Don’t argue. Move! You’ll have a better chance alone than with companions, so—allez!”
Jacklyn moved a pace away, stopped, and turned back. He said woodenly, “I can’t go to the surface, Commander.”
Desquer said very softly, “Why not?”
“Sunlight will kill me.”
There was a little silence.
“Why?”
“I was space-burned. That’s why I joined the Legion. It’s a kind of allergy, you know—I was so badly burned in space by direct solar rays that even filtered sunlight will kill me now in a few hours.”
Tony felt his stomach move sickeningly. So that was why Jacklyn had remained in Sub-Sahara for fifty years. A prison with its mockery of freedom—
“Let one of the others go, sir!”
“I’ll go,” Jimmy offered—but Desquer snarled at him.
“Silence! You know these caves, Jacklyn—”
“The captain knows them!”
“He’s badly burned. That heat-ray touched the bone. He couldn’t stand a long trek. Here!” Desquer bent over the dead Copts and rapidly began to strip them of their garments. “If sunlight will kill you, stay out of it.”
“In the desert?”
“Bandages, you fool—bandages! Wrap yourself up in these. Travel by night if you have to, after you reach the surface.”
Silently Jacklyn began to don the garments. He said without expression, “It will kill me.”
Desquer threw him an armful of clothes and grinned. “You’ll live long enough to get help. If the Copts break out of Sub-Sahara, it’ll be like rounding up a thousand fleas. Besides, I don’t know what’s back of this—but it’s nothing small, I can promise you. If—”
He leaped like a panther. His shod foot came down with a sickening crunch on flesh and bone. Tony, startled by the sudden movement, saw that Desquer had sprung upon the Coptic priest, from whose hand a ray-projector had dropped. The priest’s blood-smeared face, twisted in agony, lifted toward the ceiling as he cried out.
“Not dead, eh?” Desquer whispered, his voice taut with savage fury. “Well—you soon will be.”
He drew back his foot. But the priest’s lifted arm somehow halted him. The Copt dragged himself half erect. His thin voice shrilled, “Go down to Alu, fools! But you will be too late. Isis has risen—and with her the gods who dwell in Alu. Before the opening to the outer world can be cleared again, we shall have triumphed—and the Earth will tremble before the power of the Ancients! Aye—the Ancients who ruled over the Four Rivers before their sons fled to Egypt!
“Go down to Alu, fools!You shall find death!”
The priest fell back—and died.
CHAPTER VFive Against the Gods
Hours had passed. The legionnaires, headed by Commander Desquer, were encamped by a small, rocky inlet on the Midnight Sea, a fathomless lake of inky water that stretched beyond the limit of vision. A pallid glow came from the cavern roof far above, rippling over the surface of the tideless, sluggish sea. It was a scene fantastic almost beyond belief, and Tony, on guard at the mouth of a crevasse where the others slept, could scarcely realize that he was still on Earth, and not beneath the surface of some alien world.
They had come far and fast, slipping stealthily past the guards the Copts had posted, taking advantage of every unused tunnel, guided more by instinct than by knowledge. The city of the Copts they had skirted, descending ever deeper to the forbidden gates of Alu. And now, on the shore of the Midnight Sea, they were ready for the plunge into the unknown.
“We can’t stay here,” Desquer grunted. “They’d find us sooner or later. But in Alu we have a chance. The element of surprise will be on our side, at least.”
He was right. Tony knew. He shifted uneasily, glancing at the carbon pistol and checking its load. His thoughts went back to New York, and the civilization of a world that seemed a billion miles distant. A world lost to him—and his brothers—forever. And in exchange they had gained—this!
A hand fell on Tony’s shoulder. Desquer said, “All right. We’re marching.” The commander’s heavy jaw jutted as he stared out over the water.
The others appeared one by one, ragged, disheveled, and unshaved. Brady was wincing with the pain in his stiffened leg as he walked. Jimmy’s face was haggard; he had not the stamina of the others. But Phil seemed as sturdy and untroubled as ever.
Desquer turned; his cold eyes took stock of his command. “All right. March!”
He led the way. Brady behind him. The brothers followed. Tony caught a wink from Phil, and lagged behind somewhat, till the officers were out of earshot of a whisper.
“Yeah?”
Phil’s hand touched his tunic pocket. “Somebody searched me while I was asleep. I thought I was dreaming, but when I woke up, this pocket was unbuttoned.”
Tony’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh-oh!” He squinted ahead. “Who—”
“Dunno. But—somebody. Just thought I’d tell you. We’d better keep our eyes peeled after this.”
Phil exchanged a meaningful glance with Tony and increased his pace. The latter frowned, trying to figure out what this new development meant. The Earth Star? It was scarcely probable that anyone in Sub-Sahara would know the details of the theft and its aftermath. More likely the motive was merely petty robbery—unless, indeed, Phil had actually dreamed it. But in his heart, somehow, Tony sensed impending danger. The baleful fires of the Earth Star still burned far below the surface of the planet.
Desquer? He could scarcely know anything of the jewel. Brady? Perhaps the encounter with Zadah, the Rajah’s secretary, had aroused the captain’s suspicions. Or—Jimmy? Was he searching for the Earth Star, trying to learn which of his brothers carried it? That might have been more plausible had not Jimmy kept insisting, with his brothers, that he himself had stolen the gem.
Tony’s face did not change, but his hand touched the butt of the carbon-pistol. He felt safer with the weapon at his thigh. For a time he plodded on, every sense alert for sign of danger. The immediate peril was from the Copts, of course.
None of the underground race appeared as the group skirted the Midnight Sea. They came at last to a tunnel mouth where Desquer paused, hesitating, to confer with Brady. The latter pointed to a sign cut out of the rock above the entrance—a full moon surmounted by a crescent.
“Moon and sistrum,” the captain nodded. “This is one of the forbidden gateways. A door to Alu.”
Desquer grunted. “Very well. Come along. Watch out for traps.”
They entered the tunnel. It was darker, though a vague illumination filtered from the walls and roof, due, perhaps, to some sort of radioactivity. The passage slanted down steeply. It was apparently little used, and in spots almost blocked by debris, where the legionnaires had to crawl through painfully. Desquer’s bull strength came in useful there. The giant commandant was untiring, and there came a time when he was almost carrying Brady along as the captain’s weak leg grew weaker.
“Wonder if Jacklyn will make it,” Jimmy muttered to Tony.
“God knows. If he doesn’t, we’re in the soup.”
Phil grinned. “What if he does? We’re still in Alu!”
The tunnel grew steeper. Now half-obliterated carvings were visible on the walls, symbols that bore the trace of immeasurable antiquity. One sign puzzled Tony; it was a cross within a circle. It reminded him, somehow, of the dying Coptic priest’s words—“. . . the Ancients who ruled over the Four Rivers before their sons fled to Egypt.” The circled cross struck a chord of memory in Tony’s mind, and he knew, somehow, that the cross was supposed to represent four rivers. But—try as he might—he could recall no more.
There were other carvings, most of them showing the sistrum and the lunar disk. They had been cut out of the rock, Tony felt, long before the Pharaohs had reigned in Egypt, before the uraeus crown had come to represent a dynasty. A little chill touched Tony as he thought of the endless centuries that had ravaged the world above and left the road to Alu untouched.
Before Egypt—a civilization. And in Alu—what?
No premonition troubled Commander Desquer. His great frame marched on untiringly, practically carrying the exhausted Brady. Down and down they went. Tony’s legs began to ache, and Jimmy was drooping with fatigue. Phil’s stolid face showed no emotion, but there were lines of strain about his mouth.
Down—and down! Into Earth’s secret heart—into the forbidden land. And what caused Tony the most uneasiness was the fact that they went on unchallenged. Perhaps the Copts had not discovered the intruders. Or, perhaps, the Copts knew that there was no need to guard the road to Alu.
Occasionally Tony would intercept a glance from Desquer, who would impartially stare at the three brothers as though in puzzled curiosity. But the commander said nothing, till at last they came out in a large cavern from which three tunnel-mouths opened, besides the one on the threshold of which they stood. Desquer paused, his gaze searching.
“We’ll camp here,” he said shortly. “In the middle. That way, our retreat won’t be cut off if the Copts find us. That middle passage is our road. Eh, Captain?”
Brady nodded. “Yes. The Moon and sistrum is over it.”
In silence the five moved wearily to the center of the cavern and dropped rather than relaxed on the rock floor. They were tired out. Desquer alone sat straddle-legged, his gun ready in his hand, icy eyes flashing about.
“Sleep,” he said. “I’ll guard.”
Tony gratefully obeyed. Stillness closed over the cave. But—it was broken.
Very faintly, as though from an infinite distance, came a rhythmic chanting. Muffled and scarcely audible it whispered, almost below the threshold of hearing.
Brady’s breath hissed between his teeth. “Hear that?”
Desquer said, “Well?”
“The Chant of Set. Somewhere they’re beginning the ceremony of Osiris, where they’ll sacrifice Ruggiero.”
Tony said, “That’s where they tear the victim into pieces, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Commander—” Brady didn’t finish. One look at Desquer’s grim face was enough.
“Don’t be a fool, captain. Get your rest—and the rest of you, too. You’ll need it. You know well enough we can’t rescue Ruggiero.”
That, Tony thought as he relaxed, was true; but nevertheless he had a curiously unpleasant feeling at the base of his spine. Somewhere amid these caverns a white man was being horribly sacrificed, and it was not a thought conducive to sound sleep. Yet Desquer was right. The legionnaires’ only chance was to remain hidden . . .
Once Tony roused sleepily to find the Commander lying down and Captain Brady on guard. Brady was wandering about the cavern, staring up at the carving of the Moon and sistrum. He was a gaunt, scarecrow figure in the dim light. As Tony drifted off again to sleep he realized that the faint chanting had grown louder—
That it was different now in tone—triumphant!
And then Desquer was shaking Tony’s shoulder, his hand pressed over the legionnaire’s lips. The commander’s eyes were glittering brightly.
“Sh-h!Not a sound! Rouse the others.”
Silently Tony obeyed. There was no sign of Captain Brady, he realized.
On cat feet Desquer led the three into the tunnel. Hidden by the first turn, he whispered, “Brady’s gone. When I woke up—”
Jimmy asked, “What happened to him? The Copts?”
“Perhaps.”
“But wouldn’t they have killed us, then?”
Desquer passed a hand over his shaven head. “Not necessarily. They may have other plans.” He smiled, not pleasantly. “So Brady’s gone. That leaves the four of us.” There was an oddly secretive look in the cold eyes. “Come on. We’re still heading for Alu.”
“What’s the use?” Tony asked. “If the Copts have discovered us—”
“They may not have. Brady may have gone off to try and save Ruggiero. I doubt that, though—but we mustn’t overlook any chances. Alu is our destination. So—allons!”
The three brothers exchanged glances. One by one their number was being cut down. First the entire garrison of the fort; then Jacklyn; now Captain Brady. Tony felt a twinge of sympathy for the weatherbeaten old soldier. Whatever had happened to the man, Brady would have gone down fighting.
“He didn’t try to warn us,” Jimmy muttered.
Desquer grunted. “We don’t know all the weapons of those Copts. Where they get them God knows. Every once in a while they’ll pop up with some super-scientific device far beyond their power to manufacture. It’s a mystery. Maybe we’ll find the answer in Alu.”
That, to Tony, was a strange paradox. A search amid the ruins of a forgotten past for the super-science of the future. And yet—whence had come the mighty civilization of Egypt? What mystery lay behind the cryptic powers of the Copts?
There could be no answer, as yet. The four men marched on, down into the depths. They were beneath the Midnight Sea now, Tony decided, since the tunnel had curved in a long loop. Not only beneath the Sahara Desert, but under a sunken sea as well.
Endlessly the road stretched before them. But the end came unexpectedly. So exhausted were the four that they scarcely realized that the silvery radiance of the tunnel had given place to a reddish glow, brighter and reminiscent of volcanic activity. Desquer lifted his hand in warning. He went on to reconnoitre, and presently beckoned the others. His burly figure was rigid, Tony saw.
And, as he went on, he saw something else. The tunnel ended. It opened upon a cavern.
A cavern that was a world!
A world beneath a desert and a sea! Alu, the Land of Light, lay before the adventurers, and human eyes had never gazed upon a stranger sight. A metropolis of antiquity, with the wrecks of mighty buildings and fallen pillars strewing the flat floor of the cave. It was like Pompeii, and far older than Pompeii. It was grander than Karnak, more alien than crumbling Ang-kor-Vat. In the distance a pyramid rose toward the roof of the cave—touching it, supporting it as the fabled tree Yggdrasil is supposed to support the Earth.
Red light flamed from beyond the pyramid.
Alu! Old beyond imagination, cradle of a race that had ruled long and long ago! Alu, which the Egyptians had incorporated into their mythology as their heaven.
The sheer, overwhelming majesty of the panorama struck the men dumb, as a hand might strike an impious lip. Huge and desolate and dead the lost world stretched before them, holding its secret fast, as it had held it since before the Pharaohs reigned. No wonder the pyramids were a mystery—built by some alien science. The same science that had reared the colossal structures of Alu!
A hundred feet away a square white marble building towered, Doric pillars on either side of its open gateway. Some indefinable urge drew Tony’s eyes to it.
Desquer said, “Hear that?”
The others listened, but detected no sound. The commander grunted.
“It came from that temple. Get your guns ready. We’re going in. If there’s trouble, shoot first.”
The four moved softly across the flat rock of the floor. Halfway to the door of the building Jimmy clutched Tony’s arm. He pointed, his face chalk-white.
“Look at that!”
Tony followed his brother’s gaze, as did the others. Far away were two structures connected by an arched span. Across this span figures were moving.
Figures with human bodies—but inhuman heads!
At the distance it was impossible to make out details, but it was plain that there was something definitely abnormal about the beings who walked across the span. They moved in stately file and were gone. Jimmy whispered:
“Remember what the priest said? The gods live in Alu!”
Tony thought of the Egyptian gods, men with the heads of beasts and birds and reptiles. Could some monstrous hybrids have survived in this cavern? He shrugged off the thought.
“Masks, Jimmy! Don’t be an idiot. Come on.”
Desquer urged them toward the square building. “Quick! We can hide here, until we know more about this place. Keep your guns ready.”
The commander’s icy eyes were searching the gloom of the temple as they crossed the threshold. The symbol of Osiris, sign of the horned bull, was carved everywhere. Crumbling, broken pillars made the interior of the temple a labyrinth. The floor was littered with smashed blocks of stone.
It was very dim here, but one ray of red light flamed like a sword-blade through a gap in the wall and fell directly upon the throne that stood on a dais at the farther end of the room. Tony and the others looked down a long aisle toward the throne and the statue upon it—the statue of a man, clad in stylized flowing robes, with the head of a bull upon the human shoulders.
“Come on!” Desquer whispered. He gripped his gun. Tony felt the butt of his own weapon cold against his palm as he walked on. The approach to the dais seemed endless. Incredible journey amid the wreckage of a forgotten civilization! So might a lost soul have journeyed to Osiris . . . A scrap of verse came unbidden to Tony.
“Ten hundred shaven priests did bow to Ammon’s altar day and night,Ten hundred lamps did wave their light through Ammon’s carven house—and nowFoul snake and speckled adder with their young ones crawl from stone to stoneFor ruined is the house and prone the great rose-marble monolith!”
“Ten hundred shaven priests did bow to Ammon’s altar day and night,Ten hundred lamps did wave their light through Ammon’s carven house—and nowFoul snake and speckled adder with their young ones crawl from stone to stoneFor ruined is the house and prone the great rose-marble monolith!”
“Ten hundred shaven priests did bow to Ammon’s altar day and night,Ten hundred lamps did wave their light through Ammon’s carven house—and nowFoul snake and speckled adder with their young ones crawl from stone to stoneFor ruined is the house and prone the great rose-marble monolith!”
“Ten hundred shaven priests did bow to Ammon’s altar day and night,
Ten hundred lamps did wave their light through Ammon’s carven house—and now
Foul snake and speckled adder with their young ones crawl from stone to stone
For ruined is the house and prone the great rose-marble monolith!”
Desquer stopped. His figure stood rock-still for a moment. The gun swung up, aimed at the statue on the throne.
And now Tony saw what the commander had already realized. It was no statue that faced them. The being was alive!
CHAPTER VIBefore the Gods
Only one thing could have stopped Desquer’s finger on the trigger—and that thing happened. The monster on the throne spoke. Thick and almost unintelligible, its voice poured out from the inhuman muzzle, as the hands twitched on the arms of the throne.
“Don’t!” the bull-headed creature moaned. “It’s Brady—Brady!”
Sheer amazement petrified Desquer. He lowered his gun at last, shaved scalp shining with sweat. Tony swallowed a lump in his dry throat, glaring at the hybrid on the dais.
Brady? Captain Brady?
“Those devils did this to me,” the thick voice went on. “Surgery, commander—super-surgery. Remember their healing ray? They grafted the flesh and skin of a bull on to my head and speeded up the cellular activity tremendously with their ray. I—I don’t dare move. This head is so heavy it would snap my spine if—if—”
Desquer said in a low voice, “Are we in danger now?” His eyes searched the shadows.
“You’re doomed,” Brady mouthed. “Thotmes told me the hellish plan behind all this. Thotmes is the high priest. He’s one of the very few that know the secret of Alu. He told me—almost everything. It tickled his ego, I think, to gloat over his triumph . . .”
The bull head lolled forward and came back into place again abruptly. Brady said, “Maybe there’s a chance. I don’t know. Your guns . . . Listen! If you can get to the pyramid and blast the machine out of existence—”
“What machine?” Desquer asked.
“The machine that will destroy Europe! The same kind of machine that created Earth’s Moon, ages ago! The machine that sank Atlantis!”
Tony’s breath caught in his throat. Atlantis? Now he remembered the significance of the sign of the cross-and-circle. It was the symbol of Atlantis, the four rivers on the island continent. Softly he whispered, “The Ancients who ruled over the Four Rivers before their sons fled to Egypt.”
Brady said, “Yes. That’s the secret of Egypt, and its civilization. Men have guessed at that before now. Ages ago, when Europe was filled with nomadic tribes, Atlantis was a continent of culture and science. It was unstable—volcanic activity went on endlessly beneath it. And the land began to sink. Thotmes told me how the scientists of Atlantis planned to prevent their doom.
“They made a Moon. Out of the bed of the Pacific Ocean they tore part of the Earth and sent it driving out into space. They thought that would release the pressure under Atlantis and save their civilization.
“They failed. The forces they controlled were too mighty. Atlantis sank, taking with it a science such as the world has never known and perhaps may never know again. But before the deluge, a few Atlanteans fled eastward, through the Pillars of Hercules, to Egypt.”
The bull head nodded. “They were the ancestors of the underground Copts. They found Sub-Sahara centuries before the Pharaohs, and they found Alu. There they built a city such as had existed in the Atlantean valleys. They sent forth some of their number to civilize the Nile peoples, and those Atlanteans became the high priests of the gods. They created the gods!
“As they created me—they made gods with heads of bulls and crocodiles and jackals, to terrify the superstitious tribes that needed tangible gods to worship. And then the road to the surface was closed by some ancient cataclysm, so that the Atlanteans were trapped here. Some few of the priests kept their culture. The others degenerated. They became—the Copts.
“But the priests still kept the old religion alive, using their surgery and their healing-rays to make new gods, and ruling the Copts through fear. Now they plan to make a second Moon, and to raise Atlantis; they wish to rule the Earth as they did once, long ago.”
Brady’s thin hands clenched into fists. “They caught me in the cavern where I was standing guard—used some sort of paralyzing ray on me. They brought me down here and told me what they intend. There’s a machine that’s capable of ripping all Europe from the face of the Earth and sending it out in space, to be another Moon.”
Tony said, “But that would wreck the world!”
“That is part of their plan. They have lost all their science, possessing only a few machines and devices that have come down since the days of the Atlantean exodus. And these are gradually losing their power. In sunken Atlantis Thotmes and his followers can find weapons and secrets that will enable them to rule the world. But first they plan to make another moon—to destroy Europe—and to wreck most of the Earth with quakes, tidal waves, and storms. They’ll be safe here in Alu. They’ll emerge after the Atlantic has drained into the great abyss that will be left by the destruction of Europe, and they’ll return to Atlantis, west of the Canary Islands.”
“A machine to make a Moon!” Desquer’s voice was almost scornful. “Unbelievable!”
“It was done once. The principle is that of vibration. A file of men marching in unison can shake down a bridge—you know that. The right vibration can wreck a building. Sonic waves can disrupt the molecular framework of the Earth, and Thotmes has a machine that can be focusedthroughthe body of the planet. There will be little temblors in Europe at first, then heavy quakes. They will grow stronger. And finally the entire continent will be ripped away, and centrifugal force will carry it out to its orbit. Thotmes explained it in detail . . .”
The bull head jerked forward suddenly. There was a sharp, brittle snap. And, slowly, the body of Captain Brady leaned and bent. It toppled.
Desquer sprang forward with a curse. He touched the monstrous muzzle, jerked his hand away, and then felt for Brady’s heart-beat. After a moment he shrugged.
“Well, he told us enough. Now . . .” The commander stood up, his gaze traveling slowly from face to face. “Now we must find that machine and destroy it—eh?”
He seemed vaguely displeased when the three brothers nodded as one. But his words were commonplace enough.
“We need information.Bon.First, we must find someone who can supply it. Preferably this Thotmes—but we cannot pick and choose, I suppose.”
Jimmy said on impulse, “You believe Captain Brady’s story?”
For answer Desquer waved his hand around. “Look at this. No modern civilization built it. I’ve lived in Sub-Sahara for a long time, and—well, at least I’ll verify the story before I act. Let me remind you that it is not your business to ask questions.” His cold gaze held the youngster.
Tony said quickly, “I’ll get the information, commander.”
Desquer nodded. “Very well. I need tell you nothing you do not already know. Most of the Copts know English; if not, bring your captive back here. We shall wait.”
Tony looked once at the sprawled, terrible body that had been Captain Brady, waved casually to Phil and Jimmy—and went out. Along the shadowed aisle of pillars he hurried, pausing only when he emerged from the temple. There, crouching in the dimness, he paused, looking about.
There was no sign of life. In the distance loomed the tunnel mouth by which they had entered Alu. Tony slid along the side of the building and peered gingerly around the corner. He could see the arched ramp along which the “gods” had passed, but it was vacant now. What was the logical course to pursue?
The lost city stretched about for miles, an apparently tenantless ruin. Yet it was peopled, Tony knew, by Thotmes the high priest and his servitors—perhaps by Copts, though probably not, since the latter were confined to their own city above. At the thought Tony involuntarily glanced up. Beyond the cavern roof was the Midnight Sea, above that the Coptic city, and still further above, Sub-Sahara itself. The weight of innumerable tons of Earth pressing down on him was almost suffocating. However—
Tony shook off the feeling and set out at random, after taking careful bearings. He had a compass, but it was useless in this environment, as he found after brief experimentation. But he could gauge direction fairly well from the great pyramid, which was visible from almost any point in the city of Alu.
He kept in the shadows, which were concealingly dark where the flickering red light did not shine. What caused that volcanic glow Tony did not know, though he hazarded a few guesses. He went toward the pyramid.
It was a metropolis of the dead. Eons ago it had been inhabited, by the survivors of sunken Atlantis, but now only the dust of ages filled it. Silence, and everywhere the symbol of Isis, Moon-goddess, carved upon the stones. Silence . . .
The pyramid drew nearer, and Tony was amazed anew at its hugeness. It towered up and up to the very ceiling of the cavern, seeming to support it like a pillar. Perhaps it did—he could not tell. But as he came closer he saw that the pyramid was hollow, for there were lighted embrasures here and there in the sloping expanse of its sides.
And still there was no sound, no movement, no trace of life.
Tony grew more cautious, though there seemed no need. An arched opening loomed in the side of the pyramid near him, and he slunk toward it watchfully. No guards were posted. He hesitated near the threshold. Should he take the risk of entering what might be a stronghold of his enemies? To search the deserted city was seemingly a vain task, and, shrugging, Tony walked boldly toward the opening. But his gun was in his hand, and a coal-cartridge in its cup, ready for instant use.
A passageway sloped upward within the pyramid. It was lighted dimly by gleaming bars like neon-tubes that ran the length of the ceiling. In the vague glow Tony went stealthily on.
The corridor was featureless and without doors—at first. But, suddenly, he noticed what had at first evaded his attention, a series of panels set in the walls. The secret of their locks was beyond him, until at last one seemed simpler than the others. Tony pressed a spring that was not too deftly hidden—and the panel opened.
He looked through metal bars into a great cage.
Briefly he thought of a menagerie, and then went sick and dizzy with nausea. This was, indeed, a “zoo”—but it did not hold animals. It held—gods!
The artificial monsters created by Thotmes and his servants roamed within the cage, men with the heads of teratological mythos. Here, indeed, were the gods of Egypt, jackal-headed, ibis-headed, bull-headed, even some with the heads of crocodiles set hideously upon the human shoulders. So brightly lit was the cage that the beings did not see Tony, and he drew back swiftly, closing the panel. Obviously he could get no information here. He suppressed a strong impulse to use his carbon-gun to put these pitiful beings out of the unending nightmare of their existence. If this was a sample of Thotmes’ power, it would not be well for the Atlantean to rule over Earth!
Tony went on along the corridor. From his slight knowledge of Egyptology, he knew that not all of the gods were malevolent, like Set. Both Osiris and Amon-Ra were benevolent, and so, indeed, was Isis. Perhaps in the beginning the whole religion had been a good one, and had become decadent and degenerate with the passage of ages in this hidden cavern-world. The obvious parallel was Satanism . . .
Yet this wasn’t a question of superstition. It was one of logic and science, of cold facts in which the mythology of a race had been rooted. Behind the veil of so-called “magic” lay an alien and powerful culture, born in Atlantis long before Ur and Akkad had risen in Sumeria, along the Tigris and Euphrates.
On and on Tony went, a cold uneasiness rising within him. No one appeared to bar his path. More than once he glanced at the carbon-gun—but he was unprepared when the floor dropped beneath him, and he fell, writhing and twisting, into darkness.
He landed heavily on a hard surface, and went down with a grunt and an oath. Before he could rise, he felt the weight of muscular bodies upon him. Handicapped by the darkness, he fought doggedly, but the gun was torn from his grasp almost at the outset of the struggle. He was not in complete blackness; there was a vague dim glow, but Tony’s eyes were not conditioned to it, as those of his enemies were. At last he lay prostrate, held motionless by iron hands that gripped him.
A deep voice murmured a command. The light grew brighter. Tony blinked, staring up from his position spread-eagled on a stone floor. He discovered that he was in a bare chamber, with a barred door of metal grating set in one wall. Five strong-thewed Copts held him—but almost immediately Tony saw that they were not Copts. Their faces lacked the degeneracy of the underground mining race. They were cruel instead of stupid. Cruel—and arrogant, proud! Proud with the knowledge of a culture that stretched back into the mists of a lost antiquity.
One man stood against the wall—and he was a giant. He wore a short spade beard, and soft, glossy black hair fell in curled, oily ringlets about his face. He was handsome with the beauty of a sword-blade, strong and powerful and deadly, and his beaked nose was hooked like a scimitar. Pale blue eyes watched Tony unwinkingly.
In not-quite-perfect English, he said, “I am Thotmes.” Tony could not repress a slight movement, and the blue eyes narrowed; but the priest merely smiled. “You know me? That is strange. Perhaps you have spoke to . . . Osiris!”
He nodded to the priests, who relaxed their grip on Tony. The legionnaire sprang up, but made no hostile movement. He stood silent, watching Thotmes.
The Atlantean stroked his beard. “You are wise. This will be your prison, and, if you cause no trouble, you can live for a time. We do not murder unnecessarily.”
“Only nine-tenths of the world’s population,” Tony said gently.
“That,” Thotmes smiled, “is necessary. We are a handful, against billions. Not even the powers we shall recover from Atlantis would enable us to conquer Earth—unless Earth is already conquered, her navies and aircraft and weapons smashed by cataclysms.”
“You actually expect to make a second Moon?” Tony’s voice held skepticism. But the priest was not offended.
“Yes. Such a thing was done once before. The machine that made the Moon was built in Atlantis, and we have built a duplicate here. It took centuries, but at last it is finished. In the heart of the pyramid it lies—and already it is in operation.”
“In operation?” Involuntarily Tony glanced around. “I don’t—”
“You feel nothing here and now, of course. Later you may, though we are safe in Alu. The machine sets up vibration and molecular disruption in certain strata under Europe, and gradually the intensity of the vibration will be increased—until Europe shakes itself literally to pieces. In a week or even less the final cataclysm will take place. Europe will vanish, leaving an abyss into which the waters of the Atlantic will pour. And Atlantis will rise again!”
“That,” said Tony, “will be Old Home Week, eh?”
Thotmes didn’t answer. He turned to the others and gestured. One of them slid open the barred grating, and the group filed out. The door slammed.
Beyond it, Thotmes smiled at his captive. “Your companions will join you soon. We shall not trouble to search for them. They will walk into our midst soon enough, and then you will have company.”
“Look out you don’t get your head blown off by one of them,” Tony remarked.
Thotmes lost his smile. He tugged at his spade beard and said, “Few men jest in Alu. There is always a need for new gods—and you would look well with a jackal’s head on your shoulders.”
“You’d look lovely with a rat’s,” Tony agreed, “only you already have one.”
The high priest said something indistinguishable, glared and departed. Tony was left alone. He shrugged and took stock of his possessions.
He had been searched completely. His pockets were empty. Carbon-gun and coal-cartridges had been taken from him. He had no tool by which he might leave the cell.
On the other hand, there might possibly be a concealed panel somewhere. It took an hour for Tony to convince himself that none existed. Finally he sat down and waited. There was nothing else to do. He had got the information for which he had come. The machine of the Atlanteans was in the heart of the pyramid. But he was unarmed, and had no way of conveying a message to Desquer or his brothers. Briefly he wondered what was happening to Phil and Jimmy, and how long they would wait. And when they got tired of waiting—what would they do?
What could they do—trapped in Alu, city of science and fathomless antiquity? Four men, Desquer and the brothers, against the mighty powers of the greatest civilization Earth had ever known. Four against the might that had made Egypt an invincible empire.
Four against the gods!