He looked again at the abyss.
And, all of a sudden, an idea came to him. A mad idea, a wild concept, surely. But there was a dim chance.
He held the notion at arms’ length, turning it about, looking at it from every angle. There was just the slimmest chance in the world that it could be the answer…
He looked again at the abyss. For a very long time now, Kirin had gone forward through lighted corridors and chambers. He was long past the darkness that drenched the outer portions of the maze, long past the time he had depended on the force-probe, and had needed the black mirrors before his eyes to “see” his way. The probe equipment, too, had been thrown away when he had lightened his burden of everything superfluous.
Now he wished he had it.
For perhaps… perhaps … the abyss was only an illusion, a distortion of perspective alone. Perhaps it was only a yard across, and the optical laws were themselves twisted and bent to make the yard seem to stretch for a hundred times its actual length. Perhaps.
If it were so, the illusion would only be visible from his particular angle. That is how perspective works. And however the Master Mages of Trevelon had peered into the impenetrable depths of the Tower to map the path he must follow, perhaps they had looked down on the abyss: from that angle, perhaps it seemed only a yard or two wide, hence they had not deemed it worthy of mention, since a man could easily jump across it.
He examined the idea thoughtfully. He did not examine it very long. There was no use in spending time over it.
It was the only chance he had. Slim, but still a chance. And any chance is better than none, he thought grimly. Any chance at all…
He would try to leap across the abyss.
If his guess was correct, he would land safely before the door to the treasure-chamber.
If his guess would was wrong, he would fall to his death in the abyss.
At least it would be a swift death, and a clean one.
So he jumped…
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?