By the Light of the Green Star
Lin Carter
The First Book
FLIGHT FROM ARDHA
Chapter 1
The Face at the Window
Into the life of each man there comes a moment of ultimate despair. A moment when the tides of fortune have ebbed, leaving him stranded, alone, and friendless in a hostile world.
Such a moment had come to me at last. The Goddess of Luck, by whose aid I had escaped from a thousand perils before now, had turned her face from me in the end.
By a combination of courage and daring and happy chance, I had entered into Ardha, the city of her enemies, in an attempt to set free the beauteous Niamh, Princess of Phaolon, whom I loved from afar. Having become separated from my comrades, Zarqa the Kalood and Janchan, princeling of Phaolon, I found a place in the secret order of the Assassins. My training in their subtle arts now complete, I had been dispatched upon a secret mission. Accompanied by my mentor, Klygon, I had penetrated into the temple-citadel of Arjala, the Goddess Incarnate, ostensibly to slay in secret Zarqa and my beloved princess, whom the Goddess held prisoner. The purpose of this assassination was to tip the balance of power in this city of Ardha in favor of the Assassins, whose lord and chief, the obese and unscrupulous Gurjan Tor, had ambitions of extending his invisible empire in a reign of terror which would bring even the Crown of Ardha within his greedy clutches.
Needless to say, I had not the slightest intention of murdering either the golden, winged immortal who was my friend or the exquisite young girl whom I hopelessly loved. But under the auspices of the Assassins I hoped to gain access to the guarded citadel, there to somehow effect their rescue. The only hazard I foresaw was that I should be accompanied on this mission by my erstwhile teacher, Klygon. It was his assignment to oversee my actions and to report to his master the manner in which I accomplished my task. And it was also, I had reason to suspect, his secret duty to slay me should I fail or seek to escape.
Klygon was a small, homely, cunning, clever little man for whom I had conceived a great affection. It would have sorrowed me to have been forced to fight him, nor did I envision with any particular joy the eventuality in which I should be forced to kill him. But the freedom and safety of Zarqa and Kalood and the little Princess of Phaolon came first in all things, and I had grimly resolved to deal with the problem of Klygon as best I could, when the fatal moment came.
But the whim of Fate decreed otherwise.
We had flown to the temple-citadel on winged steeds, observed by none. Descending by a line to the window of the chamber in which Niamh the Fair was imprisoned, I observed a remarkable sequence of events, without being able to affect or to partake in them. For it seemed that, having become parted from my companions in this adventure, and being thus forced to pursue the rescue of Zarqa and Niamh on my own, my companions had not been idle. For another attempt at rescue had been plotted and set into action, unknown to me.
Black night hung over the great city of Ardha.
Swaying dizzily in midair, far above the branch of the colossal tree upon which the city was built, I descended slowly, hand over hand, to the window of Niamh’s apartment. Above me on the ledge, Klygon knelt, steadying the line.
As I climbed down the line toward her window, a muffled explosion came to me from within Niamh’s chamber. Then I observed the flicker of flames.
And next, as I clung to the line, descending as swiftly as I could to the window but still some distance from it, a succession of astonishing events transpired.
A glittering metal craft floated out of the darkness to hover near Niamh’s window. It was that flying marvel, the sky-sled, which we had retrieved from the treasures of Sarchimus the magician.
At the controls of the aerial machine was a gaunt, bewinged creature who could be none other than Zarqa the Kalood, the last, undying survivor of his extinct, prehuman race.
As I clung to the line many yards above their heads, invisible in my black Assassin’s raiment, and speechless with amazement, I watched as Janchan lifted to safety through the window my beloved princess and the unconscious figure of Arjala the Goddess.
A moment later he sprang into the craft himself, and it curved about and arrowed off into the gloom—before I could think to call out.
Thus was I forced to stand idly by and helplessly watch as another hand rescued the young girl I loved and carried her to safety—while I was left, alone and friendless, in a hostile city filled with my enemies.
It was accomplished in a moment, and after the gleaming sky-sled vanished in the night, I clung to the line, my mind a whirling chaos.
Out of this chaos, one thought emerged to realization. I had failed in my mission, and by failing had earned death at the hands of the Assassins. For in assignments of this importance, only success is permitted. No excuse is allowed for failure. And from that moment on, my life was forfeit.
Above me, a blot of blackness, motionless against the carven stone of the ledge, Klygon knelt.
Were I to clamber back up the line, I must come face to face with the ugly, humorous little man who had been my mentor in the arts of stealth and murder. And Klygon was sworn to kill me if I failed. So I could not climb back up the line, for there my killer waited.
Neither could I complete my descent to Niamh’s window, for whatever had transpired within that room, it was now an inferno of flame in which nothing could survive.
For a moment, helpless in the cold grip of despair, I thought to simply loose my grip on the line, and let myself fall to death on the paving-stones far below. I, who had already died once, in my former incarnation on this World of the Green Star as the mighty warrior Chong, knew that death is not permanent—that it is not an end but merely a new beginning.
Having passed once through the Black Gates of Eternity, I know that the spirit is shining and immortal, and lives on through life after life, while the body is but a mortal and transient abode.
Why, then, should I fear to face death a second time, when I have already lived through the mystery of death and resurrection?
The dark portal holds few terrors for me.
But… to have my bodiless spirit thrust forth again into the empty spaces between the stars, to drift and wander on the tides of eternity, would mean to lose my last glimpse of Niamh the Fair.
Hopeless, it may be, my love for the beautiful Princess of Phaolon will prove; yet she lives and had just escaped from the clutches of her captors.
And while I and Niamh the Fair yet live, and share the same world between us, I shall not give up hope. For somehow, though a thousand perils stand between us, I can yet aspire to battle my way to a place by her side, and to win again the heart that once I won, when I was Kyr Chong the Mighty.
What does it matter that the girl-queen of Phaolon thinks me dead? What does it matter that the mighty Chong expired at her feet in the Secret City of the Outlaws, and that she mourns me to this hour?
Somewhere, somehow, I will return to her side again, and win her heart again, as once before I won it in my former life.
And thus it was that I shrugged all such black thoughts of death from me. I determined that I would not willingly part, with this strong young body that was now mine. The sheer animal instinct that bids one to survive at all costs has kept me alive through a thousand adventures, and it burns within my breast to this hour.
While one chance remains, however slim and slender, I will not yield to the insidious poison of dark despair.
Nor will I go willingly through the Black Gates of Oblivion while yet one single hope lingers that I may find my path through a wilderness of perils to stand beside the child-princess I love above all else in this world or another.