Who now was Sarchimus the Dead.
The lamps had died throughout the tower because they and the energy sources which fed them were attuned to the personality of the dead savant who lay behind me somewhere in the impenetrable darkness, a monstrous stone thing.
With the instant of the death of Sarchimus, the energy sources throughout the Pylon had died with him.
Including whatever intangible barriers had held at bay the gigantic wormlike saloogs.
Lying in the black night, I wondered how long it would be before the mindless hybrids realized the energy barriers had fallen… how long before they writhed up the ascending ramps on their stumpy legs into the upper levels?
Would it be hours—or days—or weeks—before they crawled to this level of the dead tower?
By then, I knew, hunger and thirst would have enfeebled or slain me. When they came slithering to feed upon my body in the dark I would be helpless to oppose them.
The thought was loathsome.
But I could not drive it from my mind.
And I lay there naked in the darkness, in the grim silence, thinking of death.
After a time I slept. Miraculous are the resources of the human body; even more wondrous are the resources of the mind. Horror may gibber in its recesses, but exhaustion takes its toll; and a weary man will sleep, however perilous his position.
An unknown interval of time passed.
And suddenly, swiftly, I came awake and lay there motionless in the utter blackness, straining every nerve to hear a repetition of that far, faint sound that had aroused me from my exhausted slumber.
It came again—a faint, stealthy creaking!
A creaking as of the upper ramp which led to this level of the tower.
Often had I noticed that when I trod upon that topmost portion of the ramp, some weakening or flaw within its construction caused a faint creaking.
It came again, that far, slight sound, as of some slow, ponderous weight moving, creeping, ascending the ramp to this level.
In my mind’s eye I pictured a huge, swollen, loathsome saloog squirming sluggishly over the ramp to this tier of the tower, its bloated and putrescent head lolling blindly in the darkness as those monstrous and uncanny flower-eyes sought through the darkness the faint warmth of living human flesh—
Of my flesh—
I lay, straining every nerve to listen.
All too well did I recall that the portal to this laboratorium was ajar. No barrier opposed itself to whatever hideous abnormality lumbered slowly through the blackness toward where I lay.
Now the sound was within this very room!
I could hear it in the darkness, breathing heavily.
Even now, were I unbound, I could at least still flee, gain the upper levels of the Scarlet pylon, escape into the giant trees. Or if that way were blocked, at least I could stand and face it with a weapon in my hand. For to go down battling was better than this torment—lying helpless, waiting for the loathsome caress of those thick, cold, fleshy petals against my nakedness, as the slobbering digestive organs began the slow process of devouring its living prey.
The floor creaked.
Something was moving through the darkness toward me.
It did not stand erect, like a man, but slithered and groped on its belly, like a beast.
Stone grated and rasped as the thing fumbled with the dead chalky corpse of Sarchimus.
I held my breath, hoping it would pass me by.
But surely it could hear the drumming of my racing heart in the echoing silence!
A long, agonizing moment crawled slowly by—an eternity of breathless suspense.
Again I heard hoarse breathing.
A hot, panting breath. Very near me now.
The thing was only a few feet away.
Oh, to stand on my two legs and face it with a length of steel in my hands! To face it like a man, and, live or die, to go down fighting! Anything was better than lying here in the dark, waiting for the slow death that crept nearer and ever nearer…
And then I felt it.
Something cold and dry and living was crawling slowly across my thigh and up my belly…
Chapter 12
THE SKYSLED
And then a silent voice spoke within my brain.
Karn?
Relief sluiced through me like an icy flood, leaving me shaken.
“Zarqa? Can it be…?”
The Kalood touched my arm with his dry, leathery hand, felt along it to the wrist-cuff, and began working on the chains that bound me.
Sarchimus is dead, he said mentally. And with the extinction of his will, those appurtenances tuned to the wavelength of his brain also died or became inactivated. My force-prison suddenly faded and I was free.
He could not unfasten the chains. I heard him crawling slowly and with difficulty to the petrified corpse of the science magician, searching for the keys. I perceived that he was greatly weakened from his ordeal at the hands of Sarchimus. Long deprivation from the golden mead had taken its toll of his strength. He secured the key and came back to where I lay and began unlocking my bonds.
It is fortunate that the petrification affects only organic matter, he said. Otherwise this key would be useless.
I sat up and began massaging my wrists while he fumbled with the chains that bound my feet.
“You gave him the secret formula for the Elixir at last… but it was the wrong formula?”
Aye; I could resist him no longer. But I made certain that the Elixir would destroy him when he imbibed it…
“But he tested it on me first,” I protested. “Why didn’t it turn me to stone, as it did him?”
The one ingredient he did not know acts as a stabilizing factor, inhibiting the petrification, he said. That ingredient is a chemical derived from the venom of the scorpion monsters, the phuol. I knew that Sarchimus would test the mixture on yourself, Karn; but I also knew, or felt fairly certain, that the traces of phuol-venom still lingering in your tissues would suffice to neutralize the petrification effect.
By now he had freed me and I stood without great effort. I peered around in the darkness.
“Zarqa, the force barriers are down. It is only a matter of time before the saloogs begin to ascend the ramps into the upper levels. What shall we do?”
We must leave this place. The skysled is still operable, its power supplies unaffected by the death of Sarchimus. But, first, I must have sustenance, for I am near the point of death.
Zarqa described the appearance of the mead on which the Kaloodha fed; while he lay exhausted I searched by the light of a small crystal and before long discovered a supply of the honey-like fluid in a cupboard concealed in the wall of the science magician’s bedroom. While Zarqa downed a quantity of the golden mead, I made my way to the place where Prince Janchan was imprisoned. The panel was still locked and I could see no way to open it; but the effect of the Elixir of Light was still potent within me, and my strength was that of many men. I seized up a massive bench of polished marble and smashed an entryhole through the panel, freeing the hapless Phaolonian.
He accompanied me back to the laboratorium where he stopped short and voiced a cry of astonishment at the sight of the strange gaunt, golden-hued aerial creature.
“This is my friend, Zarqa the Kalood,” I said. “His people were the ones who built this city, ages ago, and he is the last of his kind on this world. Sarchimus has tortured and starved him to his present condition in order to wrest the secrets of the ancient science of the Kaloodha from him.”