Sorceress of Saramass

Author: Kirk Straughen

Synopsis: Neil Lennox is transported to another reality where magic is as real as atomic power. Here, he is hunted by the Sorceress of Saramass for her divination has revealed he is a threat to her plans for world conquest. Confronted by powers of the occult, beset by strange beasts and horrendous ordeals, will he survive or perish?

Edit history: Minor changes were made to this story on 2 July 2021.

Chapter 1: Mirror of Mystery

The man tossed and turned upon his bed. He moaned as if in pain and his brow was beaded with the sweat of terror. Neil Lennox gasped, his eyes shot open and he jerked to a sitting position, breathing hard as if he had run a lengthy race. The unseen presence that had disturbed his sleeping mind – a strange emanation from an indeterminate source - faded, and he was alone in the darkness of the night.

“Alone,” he thought as his racing heart slowed. “Yes, I’m truly alone.”

Grief assailed him, for the moment driving out the memory of his night terrors and replacing them with grimmer thoughts. Both his parents were dead, tragically killed in an aero-taxi crash only a week ago whilst on their way to a conference. Memory of the catastrophe was still raw in the young man’s mind.

He had no friends or other relatives to support him in his bleak time of grief. His adoptive parents had found him abandoned on their doorstep twenty four years ago. His origins were a mystery. The police had never discovered his biological mother, who had probably been a desperate and very young teenager, as was often the case. Despite this he considered himself to be extremely lucky to have been adopted by such a loving couple, but even so the enigma of his origin still haunted him.

Except for Stephan and Ann Lennox, his loving parents, other people were uneasy when in close proximity to him; as if he possessed an aura of strangeness that unsettled those he came into contact with. Lennox had noticed it at an early age. His school mates had shunned him from kindergarten to collage, and his colleagues at the university where he worked as a mathematician were distant towards him. Women had rebuffed his gentlemanly advances so many times he had given up on love. Now that his mother and father were dead life looked black indeed.

Lennox got out of bed. Sleep, like the world, had abandoned him. He thought of the weird formless dream that had so unsettled him, forcing him awake. It had been terrifying in its nebulous strangeness. Perhaps it had been engendered by the death of his parents; perhaps it was the old Victorian house, now weirdly sinister without their warming presence, or perhaps a combination of both. Who could say?

He left his bedroom and walked down the hallway, dimly lit by moonlight, on his way to the study intending to read for a while, to lose himself in one of the numerous books his parents, both doctors of some renown, had collected over many years.

As Lennox traversed the wide passage he passed by a strange ornate mirror. The antique glass was huge – roughly six feet in diameter and circular in form. The frame was of rosewood (or a timber very much like it) inlaid with lacquered brass symbols that appeared to be astrological or mystical in nature. Two graceful fluted pillars rising from a heavy base supported it, each surmounted by a large globe – one of the world and the other of the heavens. The continents and constellations of the globes were delineated in fine brass wire. Strangely, neither sphere depicted the known terrestrial or celestial realms.

Lennox paused by the mirror. It was an extraordinary object. It had, like him, mysteriously appeared on his parent’s doorstep when he had been about five years of age. Unlike him, though, it had come with a note attached explaining that it was a gift form a grateful but anonymous patient. For some reason he’d always been drawn to it. Perhaps it was because it was mysterious, similar to his origin, and in the strange glass he sensed something of himself.

Moonlight showed him his reflection - a tall muscular man, black haired and olive in complexion. A strong face stared back – clean shaven and square jawed, with a firm mouth and kindly eyes. There was nothing in his appearance that indicated strangeness. He was neither ugly in form nor sinister in temperament. Why, then, were people disturbed by his presence?

As Lennox scrutinized his reflection, searching for an answer that would not come, he saw the mirror begin to shimmer. At first he thought it a trick of the moonlight streaming through a window at the end of the hallway, but the strange phenomenon persisted, becoming more intense. He looked on, intrigued at first. Then fear touched him as he sensed the strange unsettling presence that had awoken him.

The disconcerting sensation grew. A form began to materialize in the mirror, blotting out his reflection. The glass now seemed a window through which he gazed. The hazy shape clarified. It became a dark disc that seemed to stare back at him like the pupil of a cyclopean eye. Lennox tried to cry out, tried to move. He was paralyzed. A strange force had seized him in its frightening grip. The unnerving manifestation began to spiral, to dilate, to become an ebon vortex into which he fell. Blackness engulfed him. He plunged dizzily, falling, falling into illimitable darkness.

**********

Lennox awoke. He was lying in bed, and for a moment he thought the entire horrific experience had been nothing but an evil nightmare. But the vaulted ceiling he looked upon quickly disabused him of this comforting hope. He sat up slowly and looked about the unfamiliar room, his mind a confused morass of disbelief.

The spacious chamber was of whitewashed stone. A frieze of stylized leaves and flowers in shades of blue, red and yellow ran about the walls. The floor was tiled in terracotta, with small colorful mosaics depicting strange fish scattered here and there. Bright sunshine flooded the room through large open arched windows of amber and crimson leadlight. The bed he now sat on was of unfamiliar design – it was more of a platform with large drawers along both sides and a thin mattress more like a sleeping mat. A cylindrical pillow completed the bedding.

The room was sparsely furnished. Apart from the bed there was a long rectangular chest and straight-backed chair. To his right was an arched brass bound door. All timber items, including the door, appeared to be of rosewood. The only thing that was familiar was the pajamas he still wore.

Where was he? How did he get here? He remembered the terror of the mirror, his hapless plunge into darkness. It was all so fantastic, so unbelievable. He dismissed the idea of these experiences being actual events. He was a mathematician. The world was a logical place governed by natural laws. The things he had experienced just couldn’t be real. But if they were not real then how did he get here? Had he been drugged by hallucinogens, kidnapped?

Lennox’s lips compressed to a thin line at that grim thought. He’d soon find out. Standing, he quickly walked to the heavy door and tried the lacquered brass handle. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. He banged and shouted for a while, but there was no response to his cries and curses. Turning from the door he stepped to one of the large windows, thinking he might be able to clamber out and escape his captors, for by now he was certain he was a prisoner.

He looked out and gasped at the sight, which shook him to the core. The sky was lime green and two ghostly ash grey moons, one larger than that of Earth and the other half its size, rode the strange heavens. Below him, the land fell away to bizarre vistas. A forest clad the slope of the hillside. The trees were like palms, but their fronds were pastel blue in color and their trunks black. Unlike palms they were blooming with pink flowers resembling those of the hibiscus. The forest descended to the sea, its white beach washed by a vast ocean of fluid not unlike quicksilver.

The sight was fantastic, impossible. But there was no denying the reality of it. Wherever he was it clearly wasn’t Earth. Shocked by the confronting reality, Lennox stumbled to the bed and sat heavily upon it, all thoughts of escape quite forgotten.

Perhaps a minute passed when the sound of a key turning in the door’s massive brass lock made him jump. The portal swung inward to disclose a strange figure standing on its threshold. The man was elderly in appearance, but his exact age was hard to judge. He was tall and slender, and his grey shoulder length hair was as straight as his back. The beard adorning his face had been braided and hung to his chest. His large dark and expressive eyes regarded Lennox with kindness.

The stranger was clad in an ankle length robe of rose pink embroidered with many bands of bizarre gold symbols. His garment was drawn tight about his slender waist by a jeweled belt. Beneath his robe were tight legging style trousers of aquamarine. Black shoes with gold buttons shod his feet, and a golden diadem with a mystic starburst in its centre completed his apparel. He bowed and addressed Lennox. His voice was deep and oddly accented.

“Welcome to my home, Neil Lennox, and to Abaru - the world of your birth. The last I gazed upon you – a month ago from my perspective - you were but a babe and now you are a man. I am sorry for my late arrival, and the dramatic way I brought you here. The forces involved are quite frightening and I apologize for that. I did not think you would regain consciousness so quickly after the transition. That you have is a good sign.”

For a moment Lennox sat in stunned silence. The man had spoken in an unknown tongue and yet he had understood it without the slightest difficulty. Nothing that had happened to him made sense. Nothing this strange man said made sense from a logical perspective. But then nothing since his awakening made sense, either. The young man ordered his confused thoughts as best he could. He desperately needed answers.

“Who are you,” he asked, trying to remain calm, for his question was voiced in the same strange language of the man, which flowed from his lips as readily as his native English. “Where am I? What is this all about?"

Again, the man bowed. “I am Yaquin. I am either a scientist or a magician depending on your point of view. It was I who, in order to protect you, sent you to the dimension where Earth resides. For me only a month has elapsed, but for you twenty four years have passed because there is a temporal discontinuity between this dimension and that of your adoptive world. While unconscious I implanted knowledge of my language in your brain.”

It was a fantastic claim. If any other person had spoken these words the young man would have thought them an utter liar, a madman or both. But there was something about Yaquin – perhaps it was an aura of integrity – that made him believe his words were completely true.

“My biological parents,” Lennox asked excitedly. “If only a month has passed in this other world …”

Yaquin’s distressed expression choked Lennox’s words. “Your mother and father, simple peasant folk, are no more, murdered by Masassa, the Sorceress of Saramass, who also seeks your death. That is why I sent you to Earth – to hide you from her magical assassins. I have fooled them – they search for a new born, not a grown man. You are safe. I am so sorry that I could not save your parents.”

The shocking news rocked Lennox. He had always held out a secret hope of meeting his birth mother at least, but now that hope had been cruelly dashed. He felt rage, grief and a tumult of other emotions all in quick succession. Yaquin came and sat beside him on the bed. Although the savant remained silent he radiated calmness. It emanated from him like light from the sun, and the young man soon settled under the beneficent influence of his quiet presence.

“Murdered,” he gasped at last, “but why?”

“The sorceress regularly searches the realm of futurity for threats to her rule as do I.” explained Yaquin, gently. “But in my case I seek to harness these threats to defeat her, to free my people from her tyranny. The future is not fixed. There are many world-lines, many possible outcomes, with some more probable than others. I saved your life not only because it was the right thing to do, but also because there is a high probability you will end her rule. That is why she seeks to destroy you.”

“But how will I defeat her?” asked Lennox as he struggled to accept the idea. “I’m an ordinary man, not a hero. I know nothing of magic, nothing of this world of Abaru which is so strange to me.”

Yaquin smiled. “A hulking barbarian is not the solution to the problem. Success is uncertain, but the world-line in which you defeat her is the one most probable at the moment. How you will achieve victory is unclear. All divining causes perturbations in the world-lines. The very act of attempting to know the future shifts the flux of probabilities. Indeed, one must be extremely careful when practicing divination least one brings about the very outcome one wishes to avoid. This applies to the sorceress as well.”

“If this is so then isn’t it a bit of a stalemate?” asked Lennox, skeptically. “If you can know something of Masassa’s plans, then she can know something of yours, and so the advantage is cancelled out.”

“Not necessarily,” replied Yaquin. “Divination isn’t perfect. It is often unclear – like gazing at the world through cloudy glass. Furthermore, it cannot be done at any time. Planetary conjunctions only favor augury at certain months. That time is passing, so we are entering a blind spot where unobservable action is possible. The future is fluid, not fixed. We can only speak of probabilities and these can change due to random and unforeseeable factors.”

Lennox was about to ask another question when a loud buzzing drew his attention to the open windows. He gasped as something flew swiftly into the room. Its appearance was akin to a dragonfly, but one at least eighteen inches long. The body was metallic green in color, the crystalline eyes black as jet, and the whirling wings as clear as glass with veins of ruby hue. Unlike an earthly dragonfly the mouthparts consisted of a stubby nozzle in which hot flames flickered, and the tail ended in a scorpion-like sting that dripped green fluid.

Yaquin stiffened, ducked as the monstrous thing circled them. “An assassin of the sorceress,” he gasped. “We are undone!”

Then the horror was at them, diving like an enraged hornet, green spray jetting from its sting.

Chapter 2: Flight

Both men flung themselves from the bed as the horror dived at them. A jet of mist missed Lennox by an inch. He smelt its odor, reminiscent of acetone. For a moment his senses reeled. The bizarre mechanism swept around for a second attack. Yaquin, who’d also managed to dodge the hissing spray, drew a black rod from his sleeve, pointed. A dazzling ruby ray flashed from the crimson gem at its tip. The bolt missed, exploded against the wall. Shattered stone sprayed, peppering both men.

Lennox dashed for the chair as the magic wrought assassin swiftly arrowed at him. He snatched up the seat, quickly turned and raised it like a shield. Liquid spraying from the sting splashed against it. Again Lennox’s senses spun. The assassin swerved as he clumsily thrust the chair at it. Yaquin launched another bolt at the thing. Red destruction struck the ceiling. More shattered stone flew. A fragment hit the automata’s wing. It faltered in its flight. Lennox fought through dizziness, leapt at it, chair swinging madly. One leg struck the horror. It crashed to the floor. The young man smashed the chair on it like a sledgehammer, crushing it to ruin.

Yaquin came to Lennox’s side as he stood staring at the thing, panting in fear and exertion. It lay before his gaze, broken, minute gearwheels spilling from its innards. Unexpectedly, a small sphere of pulsing golden light – the animating entity that had powered it - rose up from the mechanism and shot out the window, causing Lennox to stumble back in fright.

The magician placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “A thing like that killed your parents,” he explained. “I arrived in time to save you. They jet fire from their nozzles and deadly poison from their stings. Did any of the spray touch you?” he asked worriedly.

“No,” replied Lennox. “But the smell did make me dizzy. I thought I was going to pass out. Fortunately, I’m okay now.”

“Strange,” muttered Yaquin, then pushed the thought aside. “Quickly now,” he continued as he strode to the windows and began hurriedly closing them. “There are clothes in that chest. Get dressed. We haven’t much time. Despite my efforts the sorceress has discovered our whereabouts. That thing was also a scout. She cannot be far behind it.”

Lennox complied, swiftly donning the plain dark blue tunic and black legging style trousers. Calf high boots, also black, completed his apparel. A dagger with a ten inch blade and of plain workmanship hung from the broad belt about his waist.

Yaquin signaled him to follow and they quickly left the room. A corridor took them to another apartment overlooking the Silver Sea. The chamber was lined along one wall with bookcases from floor to high ceiling, and the room was crowded with many strange devices of polished brass and lacquered wood. The savant stopped before one mechanism. The device was a brass cube about the size of a basketball. A cylindrical lens projected horizontally from the cube as well as a vertically mounted crystal disc. This disc could rotate about the axis of its circular frame, and the entire machine was supported by a polished wooden tripod that raised the cube to chest height.

The savant touched several small levers on the device. The crystal disc began to spin and a pale light shot forth from the mechanism’s lens. It splashed upon a smoothly plastered wall and here an image began to form. Lennox recognized the scene – it was an aerial view of the coastline. A white cubical building surrounded by an encircling verandah and capped by a domed roof of indigo tile could be seen – Yaquin’s home.

Again, Yaquin manipulated the controls and the view shifted. A ship came into focus, rounding a headland. The black hull was long and slender with a shallow draft and low freeboard. A bronze ram projected from the bow and a standard flew from the stern – a black flag embroidered with a golden fist clutching a crimson thunderbolt. There were neither oars nor sails and yet the vessel moved swiftly towards the shore, seemingly intent on beaching like a landing craft in the bay above which the magician’s home was situated.

The strange vessel reached the strand. Lennox gasped as it walked from the water. Eight mechanical legs with webbed feet – like those of a swan - carried it onto the beach. Flying things lifted from the deck – a swarm of the sorceress’s assassins. In a whirl of glittering wings they arrowed towards the magician’s abode – bringers of swift and horrid death. Yaquin grimly shut off the device. He’d seen enough.

“We’re outnumbered,” he worriedly observed. “The hidden escape route is our only hope. Follow me, and quickly. We must fall back to my second hideout that lies further inland.”

They dashed from the room, down another passageway and descended a flight of steps to the cellar. Here, Yaquin twisted a sconce and a section of the wall swung smoothly and silently inward. Both hurriedly entered the tunnel. The savant tugged a lever and the secret door quickly closed. The magician snatched a large backpack from a wall peg and they set off down the way, which was illuminated by discs of phosphorescent ceramic set at regular intervals in the low ceiling.

Lennox’s mind was awhirl as they move down the passage. The utter strangeness of events and their swift flow had left him almost continuously off balance. He knew that if he was to survive he needed to regain his feet, to start thinking for himself, and quickly. Lennox glanced at Yaquin. He liked the man, but was he really trustworthy? If the magician could implant knowledge of a foreign tongue within his brain what else could he do to manipulate thoughts and emotions?

Did he trust Yaquin because he was trustworthy, or had he been made to trust the magician? Everything that had been done to him had been done without his consent. He was like a new born babe – ignorant of the world and at the mercy of others. He doubted that he would ever see Earth again.

“Tell me about the sorceress,” he asked, feeling this was the first item of importance.

“She came out of the trackless jungles of Kimis about five years ago,” began Yaquin as they hurried on. “Very little is known about Masassa’s past. At the time I was advisor to Urinor, sovereign of Saramass, principle kingdom of the Loasian continent that lies across the Silver Sea. To Urinor’s court Masassa came, presenting herself as a young exotic dancer with her pet – a highly trained but extremely hideous creature of mannish appearance, no doubt a strange monster from the jungles of her homeland.

“Urinor was old and lonely, his wife dead and his sons slain some years ago in a stalemate war with Thuna – a rival kingdom to the north. The king was smitten by her charm and beauty, of which she has in abundance. It wasn’t long before they became lovers.”

“I imagine that didn’t go down too well with the other courtiers,” commented Lennox, dryly.

Yaquin gave him a sour look. “Those who objected too loudly over the scandalous relationship died – of natural causes, or so it seemed: A fatal fall down the stairs, a sudden heart attack. Nothing could be proved against Masassa. The Powers know I looked long and hard.

“At first many, myself included, thought the relationship a mere dalliance on the king’s part. But within two years Masassa had become the influence behind the throne, for by cunning ploys she isolated the king from those most loyal to him. Her presence was like the perfume of the loutu flower – spreading out from a beautiful bloom, but deadly in its seductive and narcotic influence. By this time I was sure she was no mere dancing girl, but an occultist of most subtle and malignant ability despite her youth, and despite the fact that the University of Magic in Tathana had no record of any student fitting her description.

“I attempted to warn the king. My divination had shown that the world-line was not favorable to my enterprise, but I had to try. Alas, as I suspected, it was too late. Urinor had been completely snared by the force of her personality, her beauty and her charm. He became wrath at my warnings, accused me of jealously and many other things I do not care to repeat. I barely escaped with my life, and fled with what possessions I could hastily gather to this remote isle where, many years ago, my divinations suggested I established a secret abode.”

“And you’ve been in exile ever since?”

“Yes,” replied Yaquin, “but not idle. I’ve kept an eye on the affairs of the kingdom using my magical devices. Urinor died about year after my escape. My sovereign had no heirs. Shortly before his passing he and Masassa were wed. She now rules as queen and has taken Anias, commander of the army, as her lover, no doubt to consolidate her position. Thus ensconced upon the throne the sorceress has become a tyrant; the common people slaves ground beneath her heel – toiling in the fields under the lash and laboring in cruel factories building her magical weapons. I fear she plans to conquer the entire continent of Loasia.”

“And you expect me to defeat this woman?” asked Lennox with obvious incredulity.

“I appreciate the fact that you are not pleased,” replied Yaquin, sensing his skepticism and resentment. “I have uprooted you from the familiar and thrust you into a situation that is not of your choosing. But consider this: What kind of life would you have had if I’d left you on Earth? Except for your parents, the humans of that world sensed the alien nature of your aura and shunned you because of it. A life of crushing loneliness awaited you. This is your true home. Only here have you any hope of finding friendship, love and happiness.”

“And of death, also” replied Lennox somewhat morbidly.

“Death comes to all of us, regardless of where we are,” countered Yaquin. “It is not dying that is significant; rather, it is the quality of one’s life. Do not be concerned you are my puppet controlled or influenced by magic. I sense that you doubt my motives. But the fact that you are sceptical shows you have free will. But enough philosophy: The end of the passageway is nigh. We must be careful on exiting least the minions of the sorceress detect us.”

The tunnel terminated in an upward leading ladder. Yaquin paused next to it and peered into the eyepiece of a vertical brass cylinder that pierced the ceiling. He pushed the device up, rotated the cylinder one way then the other as he carefully examined the exterior view the mechanism conveyed to his scrutinizing gaze.

“No threat is apparent,” he advised, as he retracted the cylinder. “The way looks clear. We will ascend.”

Yaquin mounted the ladder, his weapon – the black rod tipped with its crimson gem – gripped between his teeth. He unbolted the trap door which was camouflaged as a rock, pushed it open and scrambled out. Lennox swiftly followed at his beckoning and looked about.

They had emerged into a forest of the palm-like trees beneath whose canopy was a low undergrowth of strange plants with leathery indigo leaves, somewhat curved, that were arranged in two opposite rows giving the growths a fan-like appearance.

“We must hurry,” urged Yaquin as he closed the trap door. “It won’t be long before the enemy discovers we’ve fled; quickly, this way.”

Both men set off at a rapid pace. Moments passed without discovery. All seemed well when, whilst crossing an open glade, the ominous sound of buzzing ended all hope of undetected flight. Lennox jerked up his head. Above them were four mechanical assassins, each one suspending a large net by its corners.

Yaquin cursed, raised his blasting rod. The assassins dropped the net as the magician unleashed a deadly bolt of force. The crimson ray struck one mechanism, exploding it to ruin. But that didn’t stop the plunging of the net. It fell directly upon the pair. Barbed hooks caught in clothing, in flesh. Lennox stumbled in agony, fell against Yaquin. Both men tumbled to the ground as the three remaining assassins hovered menacingly over them.

The sound of beating wings, much louder than the whine of the assassin’s drew Lennox’s frightened gaze, and he gasped at the sight of the magical machine descending to the glade. The body roughly resembled that of an ornate horse drawn coach, wheels included. But here all similarity to an Earthly vehicle ended, for from front and rear projected metal outriggers. An intricate mechanism was affixed to each outrigger and on each outrigger, powered by this machinery, were huge bat-like wings. The color and pattern of these leathery pinions was reminiscent of a Monarch butterfly, and it was these that bore the vehicle through the air with all the ease and swiftness of a bird.

Lennox shuddered as the bizarre machine settled on the ground, for its forward facing eyes of many facets, cold and disturbingly inhuman, stared at him with all the weirdness of occult pseudo-life.

Yaquin tried to turn his blasting rod upon the thing, but to his horror found he was too entangled in the netting. He looked at Lennox in despair. They were completely at the mercy of the sorceress’s magical monstrosities.

Chapter 3: The Sorceress

The door of the flying machine opened. Steps automatically unfolded and a figure exited the conveyance. It was a woman of startling appearance. She was dressed in a tightly laced short-sleeved bodice that had a panel of gauzy material through which her small but pert breasts could be glimpsed. A jeweled girdle supported her ankle length sheath skirt, which was split daringly high on both sides to her thighs. Black sandals, with strapping encircling her calves, completed her apparel.

Her clothes were decorated with elaborate geometrical embroidery in vivid reds blues and yellows, which stood out boldly against the white fabric of her attire. A necklace of gold beads was about her throat and bracelets and anklets of similar workmanship complimented her adornment. Her narrow face wasn’t beautiful, but it was striking. It reminded Lennox of a hawk’s countenance – fierce and proud. Her hooked nose was prominent and her mouth full. Her eyes were large and dark like her dusky skin and hair, the latter hanging to her waist in multiple braids with interwoven gemstones. Her slim figure moved with feline grace as she walked towards the captives.

As the woman drew near Lennox noticed a faint shimmer about her head. It drew his eye and as he focused on the strange phenomenon he discerned the ghostly image of what appeared to be a kind of crown – a narrow ring of silvery metal around which were six evenly spaced bezel-set cabochons, each about an inch across whose color and adularescence reminded him of moonstones.

“The sorceress,” hissed Yaquin. “Masassa must now have use for us otherwise her occult minions would never have captured us alive. The sting of the first assassin that attacked us must have been filled with an anesthetic rather than a deadly toxin. Perhaps a recent divination has changed her plans. Beware my friend. She is a master of manipulation. Her extraordinary beauty is seductively narcotic. But a foul soul hides behind her fair face; forget that at your peril!”

Lennox wasn’t surprised at Yaquin’s warning, but what did surprise him was his reference to her loveliness. She was striking in appearance, true, but certainly no vision of exquisite allure. Still, perhaps aesthetic tastes were different on this world of Abaru. The old saying that beauty is in the eye of the beholder might well apply.

Masassa halted several feet away, well clear of Yaquin’s blasting rod. Her gaze focused on Lennox, and she smiled a cruel smile of satisfaction as she looked upon her vanquished foe. The young man returned her stare. Hatred was written boldly upon his face as he gazed intensely at the ruthless murderer of his natal progenitors.

Her voice was a rich contralto when she spoke: “Your look burns like fire,” she observed with mild amusement. “It would please me more if you, like other men, gazed upon me with desire.”

“I’m not other men,” he hotly replied. “Besides, you murdered my parents, tried to murder me. What else do you expect me to feel but hatred for you?”

“Well, you’re honest,” she replied, her voice tinged with a token of respect. “You’re not groveling for your life as others might. It will be an interesting amusement to make you love me as others do.”

Lennox gasped in shock at the woman’s unbridled conceit. How could he possibly love his parents’ murderer? The thought was totally obscene, beyond belief. Was she so intoxicated by her sense of power that she was blind to the obvious? Hot words rose to his lips to decry this outrage. But the sorceress raised her hand before he could condemn her. From the ring on her index finger sprang a ray of violet light that bathed both men in its strange effulgence. Lennox’s senses whirled. His vision faded. He tried to cling to consciousness, but it was impossible. His mind slid into all enveloping darkness.

**********

When he opened his eyes Lennox again found he was in an unfamiliar room and by its motion it was obvious he was aboard Masassa’s ship. He had a mild headache, but apart from that was unhurt. He eased himself slowly from the hammock and found he was completely nude, much to his disconcertment. His injuries, caused by the hooked net in which he and Yaquin had been ensnared were completely healed, no doubt by the magic of the sorceress.

Thoughts of Yaquin made him look quickly about the cabin. He was alone. Was Yaquin alive – a prisoner in another room? He didn’t know. The only thing that was certain was that he must escape, find his companion if he was still alive and free the magician. Together they might yet be able to foil the sorceress’s schemes and avenge the murder of his biological parents.

With this in mind Lennox began a careful examination of the room, hoping to find something that might aid him. A barred porthole admitted the light of late afternoon, and by its illumination he saw there was no furniture apart from the hammock slung from the low ceiling. The single brass bound door was secured by a heavy lock. Masassa was no fool – the small cabin was as bare as he was.

Lennox spun around at the sound of a key turning in the lock. Quickly, he padded to the portal and readied himself to spring upon whoever stepped across the threshold. It wasn’t much of a plan, but he was utterly desperate. The door swung inwards. Lennox was behind it. A figure stepped into the cabin. The tensely waiting man leapt, grasped his enemy by the throat with murderous fingers.

His hands froze as he gazed at Masassa in wonderment. It was as if he was experiencing a form of double vision. He saw her as he remembered, but overlying her hawkish features was another image of a woman of superlative loveliness. Lennox stumbled back in bewildered amazement, all thoughts of violence quite forgotten. How could he have ever thought to harm such an amazingly beautiful woman?

The sorceress smiled at him, and it was as if the sun suddenly shone through darkness. Her beauty was dazzling. She touched her clothes and they slid from her. It was as if a master sculptor had unveiled a wondrous creation. She stood before him, elegantly posed – the essence of all that a man could desire in a woman. Wild passion, like a roaring sea, swept through Lennox. All rational thoughts fled. Only intense longing remained. He stepped forward in a kind of madness and took her in his arms.

**********

Considerably later, Lennox lay in his hammock, tormented by guilt and desire. His mind was now in a slightly more rational state. He realized his behavior and his feelings were no doubt the result of Masassa’s magic. He was a victim of her occult manipulation, just one of many others. But this knowledge didn’t make him feel any better. He’d been used; a plaything of her wickedness. Oh, how he tried to hate her. But her presence still lingered in the room, masking his burning ire like fine perfume, and he suspected it would take some time for her occult influence to dissipate.

Masassa had stayed with him for a while after their passionate encounter. She’d spoken somewhat freely, and now Lennox had some idea of why she wanted him alive. It seemed Yaquin had unintentionally aided her by sending him to Earth. This act had altered probabilities, had changed the world-lines in the sorceress’s favor. Yaquin’s suspicions had been correct. Empire building was her game, and now he was to play a role in its achievement, but exactly how was something Masassa hadn’t clarified.

The young man muttered a low oath. Yaquin had brought about the very thing he’d feared and dragged him into it. Lennox had no desire to be caught up in Masassa’s schemes, particularly when they involved the enslavement of an entire continent. The terrible thing was that he feared he’d be unable to resist her. When in her presence, effected by her potent sorcery, he was frightened he’d do anything she asked. The possibility was really terrifying.

Her magic was powerful, true, but she wasn’t a god. She must have some vulnerability, some weakness and he had to find it. He still didn’t know if Yaquin was alive or dead – she’d refused to tell him either way. Lennox rose from his hammock and restlessly paced the cabin. He knew Masassa’s room abutted his. He wondered if he could spy on her, ferret out her secrets.

With this in mind he moved to the dividing wall and pressed his ear against it. Nothing could be heard. Undeterred, he moved his position slightly, and tried again. It was then that he spied a loose knot in the paneling. Kneeling, he began to work at it with his fingernails. With painful slowness he persisted until the dime size imperfection at last came free.

Lennox knew he was taking a terrible risk. His heart raced with an odd mixture of fear and excitement as he pressed his eye against the aperture and looked within Masassa’s private quarters. He saw her and again desire came strongly upon him, threatening to overwhelm all rational thought. He was still experiencing the bizarre double vision of her beauteous features overlying her true countenance. The weird crown that she wore, even during the height of passion, was strangely less visible than it had been. It was all very odd. With considerable effort he put aside his distracting emotions and focused his mind on the task of spying.

The sorceress sat at a desk ornamented with elaborate fretwork and lacquered brass inlays. Behind her were shelves from floor to ceiling upon which were many oddly shaped containers of porcelain whose contents he correctly guessed were essential to her magic. About the cabin were arrayed occult instruments, some of which were similar to those he’d seen in Yaquin’s laboratory; others were wildly different. There were also many weighty leather bound books in other shelves, one of which the sorceress was reading.

Sound filtered through the knothole – the opening of a door and the scuff of feet, as if someone was being manhandled within the cabin. Masassa looked up from her reading. Yaquin came into view. Lennox experienced joy at seeing him alive; then horror at the monster in whose foul grip he struggled.

The squat creature had a heavily muscled man-like body. The arms, though, were much longer and the flat head. The creature's skull, with its broad slash of a mouth and bulging yellow eyes, was reminiscent of a toad. Its skin consisted of thick dark gray scales, mottled in navy blue. The being's hands and feet were human in appearance, but armed with black talons. It shoved Yaquin before the sorceress and held him there, cruel claws digging into his arms, which were bound behind his back.

“You’ve lost Yaquin,” began Masassa without gloating. “The reason why you and your companion are still alive is because my most recent divination indicates I may find both of you useful, if you cooperate.” She paused, waiting for a reaction.

Yaquin remained stonily silent. He stared straight ahead, refusing to meet her gaze.

“Don’t think that young fool of yours can aid you,” she continued after a moment as she picked up a small phial of clear liquid from her desk and showed it to him.

“I administered this love philter to him while he was unconscious. It is very powerful and has bound him to me. He will do anything I ask. You are alone and at my mercy. Cooperate willingly, or by force I’ll make you. I know you can withstand torture using your occult arts. But can your companion? Ah, I see that thought has shaken you. Yes, you well know what I am capable of. He has a nice body. It would be a pity to mutilate it.”

Cold fear gripped Lennox. Death he could face, but mutilation by refined and agonizing torture? He went weak at the horror of it. Would Yaquin sacrifice him for the sake of defiance? A tense moment passed, and then he saw the magician’s shoulders sag in abysmal defeat. The young man felt guiltily relieved. Yaquin had saved him for the moment, but had sacrificed his objectives and possibly his people’s freedom in the process. In a moment of honest reflection he wondered if the price had been too high.

“A sensible decision,” observed Masassa. “Abax,” she continued, addressing her pet monster. “Release him.”

The creature complied, cutting the magician’s bonds with a razor claw, and then squatted by the desk as the sorceress waived Yaquan towards the backless chair in front of it. “Sit,” she commanded. “There is much we must discuss.”

Yaquin took his seat with ill grace, and the sorceress began to speak. Lennox strained to hear the conversation, for Masassa’s voice had dropped in a conspiratorial manner. He shifted slightly to get more comfortable. Abax’s head swung in his direction. Lennox stiffened in fright as the monster’s baneful gaze seemed to penetrate the very wall and spy him out. Perhaps some slight noise from his movement had alerted it.

The thing hissed. It jerked erect and bounded in his direction. Lennox suppressed a curse. He jammed the knot back in its hole just before the monster crashed against the wall. He heard the scrabbling of its frightful claws, its feral hiss and the sound of raised voices in the room beyond. The foul pet of the sorceress had found him out and he was sure that doom would swiftly fall upon him.

Chapter 4: Crown of Astaroth

Lennox looked frantically about the cabin. He raced to the door. It was locked. He dashed to the porthole. It was barred. He was trapped. He heard the sound of Masassa’s cabin door burst open, the swift rush of feet along the passageway. Lennox’s thoughts were frantic. He forced calmness on his racing mind. An idea born of utter urgency came to him.

He flung himself into the hammock as a key grated in the lock. With a clenched fist he struck himself a heavy blow on base of his skull. It was a dangerous thing to do and a measure of his desperation, but it had the desired effect – he fell back in his hammock unconscious…

Sensibility returned to Lennox. Someone was violently shaking him. Still in an unfeigned daze, he opened his eyes and for a moment stared blankly at the double visage of the sorceress.

“What,” he mumbled … “What…”

“What have you been doing?” she snapped, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I’ve been asleep,” he innocently replied, fighting the desire her mere presence stirred within him – a desire that threatened to dangerously muddle his thoughts.

Masassa, scowling, walked about the cabin, looking for any sign that something was amiss. Lennox lay in the hammock, outwardly calm and praying to every god he could think of that his ruse would work, and that he could retain the sharpness of mind needed to continue to outwit her.

The young man tensed when she paused by the knot.

“What is this all about?” he calmly asked in a bid to distract her.

“You heard nothing of the commotion in my cabin?”

“I’m a heavy sleeper,” he replied guilelessly. “You tired me with your passion, which is considerable. I’ve never known a woman quite like you.”

The compliment, which had a considerable amount of truth to it, had its desired effect. She smiled and moved towards him, her eyes admiring his nude physique, her thoughts distracted from suspicion.

“I find your frankness rather refreshing; far better than the flowery prose I often have to endure from my sycophantic admirers.” Then, turning her mind to more important matters: “Yaquin is under guard in my cabin. He has decided to cooperate in my venture. Come, I need to fill you in on our plans as well, and now seems an opportune time to do so. Also, you clothes are there; though I must admit I’d prefer to keep you naked.”

**********

Lennox watched as the sorceress and Yaquin scrutinize the ancient faded map spread out upon her elaborate desk. It was early evening and the young man now had a general idea of Masassa’s plans. Much she’d left unsaid, but the gist of it was that they were voyaging to an isle upon the bosom of the Silver Sea. Whatever her motivation was for the journey he was sure it wasn’t mere curiosity. Something was there that she needed – something that was essential to her plans of continental domination.

Anias, commander of the army and her lover, was acting as regent whilst she was away. Lennox hoped he’d try and take advantage of her absence and seize power, but he doubted this would occur. Masassa surely had him firmly under her control. Lennox realized that he, too, was powerless to harm the sorceress. The love philter she’d administered to him prevented that. His hate was largely overwhelmed by desire. In her presence it was a constant struggle to think straight. He’d barely managed to pull off the ruse that had saved his life.

He glanced at Yaquin. The magician, due to his advanced years, was obviously immune to her chemical seduction; otherwise she’d have also used the drug on him. But he, too, was powerless to act. His magical equipment had been confiscated. Abax, Masassa’s foul pet, watched both men with malefic hawk-like intensity. It doubled as her bodyguard. Even if they were armed he doubted whether any blade could penetrate the heavy scales that clad its powerful body.

Masassa and Yaquin were deep in conversation. Both were oblivious to him. A swift glance showed that Abax was curled up upon the floor, dozing. It seemed the horror’s vigilance had its limits after all. If there was ever a time to act it was now. Lennox looked about the cabin, seeking inspiration. Whatever he did it couldn’t involve violence against Masassa.

His wandering eyes came to rest on the floor to ceiling shelves holding the many oddly shaped apothecary jars whose strange contents were used in the sorceress’s occult preparations. Undoubtedly, some held substances that would prove useful to him, but as their contents were identified by container shape rather than label he had no idea at all of what was in them.

Lennox was about to look away when he spotted the uniquely shaped spiral phial containing the love philter. It had been pushed to the back of the middle shelf with several others, obviously no longer needed. Hope rose within him. If it could befuddle his mind with powerful emotions then surely it could befuddle Masassa’s. It wouldn’t harm her. It wasn’t a poison, but with a mind muddled by intense desire her plans were more likely to go awry.

Again, a quick glance showed that Yaquin and the sorceress, their backs to him, were absorbed in scrutinizing the ancient and almost illegible chart. Lennox stealthily grasped the phial and surreptitiously slipped it in a pouch dangling from his belt. He turned around and froze in knifing fear. Abax had awoken and its baneful yellow eyes were upon him. He could see its rippling muscles tensing for immediate attack.

Lennox’s thoughts flew. Sudden inspiration came. Massassa was bending over, unaware at the moment of impending violence. The young man swiftly grasped her buttocks in a playful manner at the very instant the hissing monster lunged for him. The sorceress gasped in shock. Lennox leapt away. Abax crashed against the shelves, fell upon the floor. Jars tumbled, shattered; pandemonium erupted.

The horror bounded from the boards. Again, it lunged for Lennox, black talons slashing madly. He dodged its wild attack as the sorceress screamed commands. Her brutish pet ignored them. It came at Lennox with overriding fury. The young man leapt aside, tripped the monster. It fell flat upon its face and Lennox flung himself upon its back. He got the horror in a full Nelson, held on grimly. The thing writhed, bucked, heaved in a mad attempt to dislodge him. It was immensely strong and he knew he couldn’t cling to it much longer.

“In the name of all the Powers,” cried Yaquin, desperately, “call off that brute before it kills him.” And then, with an appeal to self interest: “Dead he is no good to you.”

Masassa cursed, scrabbled among the broken jars. Her flying fingers closed upon one, snatched it up. She rushed to Lennox as the monster heaved him off. The thing hissed. Its yellow eyes were full of wild violence. Masassa flung the contents of the vessel in its face as it lunged for him. A cloud of fine silvery dust enveloped the horror. Lennox rolled clear as it uttered a strangled cry, stiffened. Abax toppled and crashed senseless to the floor. The fight was over.

Lennox, shaken by the narrowness of his escape, climbed unsteadily erect to confront Masassa, no less dangerous than her wild pet. She eyed him with venomous suspicion as she coldly spoke.

“This is the second time Abax has shown hostility towards you. My pet is loyal. It does not act without good reason.”

“When I grabbed you buttocks it was done out of playful desire,” replied Lennox. “Had I known Abax would see my actions as a threat I’d never have done it. I’m sorry for the commotion I inadvertently caused.” Then he grinned. “But I must confess you are extremely desirable, and with you bending over like that; well, it was too great a temptation for me to resist.”

Some of the anger left Masassa. It appeared she had a weakness for flattery, especially coming from a man she was sexually attracted to in a raw animalistic manner.

“I suppose I can forgive you,” she replied, mollified somewhat by his charm. Then, looking at the shattered apothecary jars strewn across the floor: “What a mess. Out, both of you. I need to clean up this morass. We’ll discuss things further in the morning.”

**********

Lennox leaned on the ship’s railing. The magic vessel ploughed through the waves steadily, automatically. It needed no crew. Its occult eyes at the bow gave it vision, its sentience direction, with only an occasional command from Masassa.

A week had passed since the incident in the sorceress’s cabin. For the first few days Lennox greatly feared Masassa would discover the phial was missing. But it appeared that with so many shattered containers strewn across the floor, along with their messy contents, that she’d assumed the philter was also broken and its fragmented remains among them. He hadn’t told Yaquin what he’d done. Lennox wanted to protect the savant from the sorceress’s wrath if his plans were discovered.

The Silver Sea stretched out before him in a vast mirror-like expanse, and he lost himself in its strange wonder. It wasn’t mercury as he had initially thought, but some unknown element unique to this reality. It was a heavy fluid, undrinkable to all but the denizens of its argent depths. Rain, when it fell, pooled on its surface like oil floating on water, and at night the strange liquid glowed faintly with a shifting pearly light in which danced weird forms molded from its ethereal luminescence.

A huge creature breached the surface in a mighty spray of silver some four hundred feet to starboard, breaking his reverie. Alarm came upon Lennox. They had entered that area known as the Lair of Serpents – a triangle of ocean delineated by three islands in which the great beasts made their home, sinking all vessels that strayed within their territory.

He gazed at the eyeless scaly monster as it again breached the surface. Its serpentine ivory body, at least two hundred feet in length and twenty in thickness, was surmounted by a head that seemed all tentacles. It was as if nature had gone insane and fused sea snake and squid into a slithering abomination. The thing plunged back beneath the argent waves and Lennox breathed a little easier. The magic of the sorceress was keeping it at bay.

Lennox’s mood soured. Though the horror had vanished it reminded him of the peril he was in – a peril that hung above his and Yaquin’s heads like the sword of Damocles. In the middle of the Lair of Serpents was another island that was their destination – an island guarded by horrors could only contain further horrors, or so he reasoned. The thought was most unsettling.

Motion in the tail of his vision made him turn. It was Yaquin. The magician came and leaned against the rail beside him. Lennox looked around. It was a rare moment when they were alone, unobserved by either the sorceress or her horrid pet. By now he had many questions that needed answering, and considerable suspicions.

“When you look at Masassa, do you notice anything odd?” he began.

“She is extraordinarily beautiful,” replied Yaquin, puzzled. “More beautiful than any other woman I have ever seen. Is that what you mean?”

“No,” replied Lennox, and then described her appearance as he saw it; how the illusion of beauty overlaid her hawkish features, and how this odd double vision only manifested after she’d dosed him with her potion.

Yaquin looked thoughtful. “You have the gift of true vision,” he murmured. “It is a rare thing – not magic in itself, but heightened senses that enable you to penetrate the veil of illusion. The drug Masassa gave you has interfered with this to some degree so you get hints of the glamour she projects.”

“That’s not all I see,” added Lennox, and then described in detail the ghostly crown Masassa constantly wore – one he was sure only he could see.

Yaquin, visibly shaken, leaned heavily against the railing when the young man finished.

“Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure that’s exactly what you see?” he fearfully enquired.

“As sure as you are standing next to me,” replied Lennox, puzzled.

“Then all upon this globe are in grave peril,” gasped Yaquin. “For the circlet she wears is none other than the Crown of Astaroth, which contains the spirit of Molochur, the tyrant sorcerer-king who cruelly ruled our world two thousand years ago.”

Chapter 5: The Island

“I’ve been an utter fool,” admitted Yaquin as he looked fearfully about. Seeing they remained unobserved he continued: “Masassa is very young to be a master of the magic she employs. It is the sentience of the Crown that gives her knowledge of the occult, and undoubtedly controls her. I should have investigated the possibility of another agency behind her.”

Yaquin fell silent. His expression was bleak, his face pale. He seemed to have aged ten years.

“You had better tell me all you know,” prompted Lennox. “We can’t afford to give way to despair if the threat is as dire as you say. The world is depending on us, for only we know the nature of the threat. To defeat this menace we must apply ourselves to the utmost.”

The magician nodded, stood a little straighter as he pulled himself together. “What I’m about to tell you is a summary of The Last Days of Empire. It is an eyewitness history written by an anonymous author, probably a palace functionary in Molochur’s court. Only fragments of his work survive, but there is enough to give a broad outline of what occurred:

“As I’ve mentioned, thousands of years ago our world was ruled by Molochur, a mighty sorcerer-king. Through magic he had extended his lifespan for many hundreds of years, allowing him to build a globe spanning empire. But all things have their limits, even magic, and there came a time when even his sorcery could no longer stay the hand of bodily dissolution.

“Fearing mortality Molochur sought to circumvent it. On his deathbed, by a process whose knowledge is now completely lost, he transferred his essence to a magical device – the Crown of Astaroth, so named after his empire’s capital.

“The full details are not known, but the essence of the cunning plan was this: At the coronation, when the Crown was placed upon his chosen successor, the spirit of Molochur would possess his hapless heir, and thus the sorcerer-king would continue his long and brutal rule.

“The plot, however, went awry. Somehow the scheme was discovered, and the Crown substituted with a cunning copy by the heir. But things did not go as planned for Molochur’s successor, either. During his unnaturally long life Molochur had fathered many children, most of whom also coveted his throne, and were as cruel and ruthless as he.

“Without Molochur’s domineering presence and occult mastery to keep his rivals in abeyance it wasn’t long before civil war erupted. The empire was torn asunder by the violence. It collapsed, and for an age barbarism prevailed. Slowly, civilization emerged from the ruins. Much knowledge was lost in the conflict. Many magical devices were hidden in remote places to prevent them from falling into the hands of rival factions. Kimis, Masassa’s homeland, was once the heartland of the sorcerer-king’s empire. Doubtless she somehow found the Crown in the trackless jungles of the region.”

Yaquin would no doubt have said much more, but as he looked aft he saw the sorceress step from the doorway that led to the ship’s cabins, and immediately fell silent. Masassa walked towards them, her brutish pet following close behind. Her smile was pleasant, but her words held a hint of menace.

“What are you conspirators up to?” she asked with seemingly innocent humor.

“We’re enjoying the sight of this glorious sea,” Lennox answered easily. “But of course it cannot compare to your radiant beauty.”

Masassa laughed pleasantly. “Some say that when a man flatters a woman she should beware, and the more he flatters her the more beware she should be. I’ve come to tell you we will be in sight of the island by tomorrow morning. Remember, although you are both useful to me neither of you is completely indispensable.”

And with that unveiled threat she turned her back upon them, and quietly walked away.

**********

Lennox, standing on deck, gazed at the jungle clad shore of the island. Their strange amphibious craft had walked from the Silver Sea and onto the beach of white sand some five minutes ago, and they were now ready to depart on a trek to an inland destination known only to the sorceress.

Masassa had changed from her elaborate apparel to one consisting of plain bodice and trousers tucked into high boots. Lennox was weighed down with a heavy backpack containing provisions and equipment. Yaquin bore a lighter load. For weapons Masassa was relying on her occult mastery by way of two assassins, magic ring and her fearsome pet also.

Abax stared malevolently at Lennox, adding to his growing unease as did the insect-like assassins who hovered over him. He still had the love philter in his pouch, but the opportunity to use it hadn’t arisen. When all three dined together Abax squatted by him, bulging yellow eyes sinisterly watching his every move. It had been impossible to slip the potion into Masassa’s wine.

But even if he’d succeeded the sorceress might not become befuddled with desire. Before he hadn’t realized a malevolent spirit (the true enemy) resided in the Crown. The influencing entity was unlikely to be affected by the potion. As Lennox now saw things there was but one hope: Masassa possessed all the feminine characteristics of a woman. She had a personality of her own, which suggested that Molochur’s male essence, rather than having direct control over her every thought and action, lurked within her unconscious, subtly prompting her in the direction it desired. If he could bring their two wills into conflict by arousing contrary objectives, then perhaps its plans could be foiled.

Masassa squinted at the weird green sun that burned brightly in the unearthly emerald sky. “It will be noon within a few hours,” she observed. “It gets quite hot in these latitudes. Let’s away while it is still relatively cool.”

They descended the slope of the long ramp that the strange sentient ship had automatically extended, and entered the jungle. Tall trees rose above them like the stately columns of a classical temple. Up close Lennox saw that their thick black boles were clad in hexagonal plates of coarse bark. High overhead the dense canopy of pastel blue fronds cut out much light, shrouding the scene in gloom, which was broken by the growth’s pink hibiscus-like flowers.

An undergrowth of tall plants with heart-shaped deeply lobed leaves of midnight blue hindered their passage. The leaves -several feet in length and growing outwards from a central stem – had a spread of up to six feet. These chest high growths tended to overlap with neighboring plants in fierce competition for what little light filtered through the heavy canopy. They bore white cylindrical blooms on tall flower spikes which were faintly bioluminescent. The still air was redolent with their musky scent.

Time passed. The air grew hotter and more humid as noon approached. They stopped to rest when a deep gully blocked their path. In its depths the glint of running water could be seen, accompanied by the faint burbling of its flow. The sorceress consulted her compass-like instrument and was assured they were on the right path.

The party relaxed on a long slab-like boulder. Masassa’s assassins hovered overhead, ever watchful as Lennox drank deeply from the large water skin shared by all. The liquid, somewhat tainted by the leather, was nonetheless cool and refreshing in the growing heat. Its reviving effect and the sound of the nearby stream gave him the hint of an idea. He struggled to grasp it firmly. The affects of the potion clouded his mind. It was difficult to stop himself from behaving like a love sick teenager in the presence of the sorceress. With an effort he brought his emotions under control and the idea crystallized.

“This water skin needs refilling,” he said to Masassa as he doffed his weighty backpack and walked towards the gully before she could object. “I’ll be back shortly.”

There was a tense moment when Abax hissed and rose to follow him. Fortunately, Masassa tersely brought her ugly pet to heel. She, like the rest of them, was hot and sweaty and somewhat irritable due to her discomfort. Abax squatted with ill grace as Lennox began his descent to the stream below. The assassins circled overhead, acting as sentinels for the resting party.

It was a difficult climb, but Lennox gained the stream’s bank without accident and began refilling the container. Hidden by dense undergrowth he quickly poured the contents of the phial into the water skin and then dropped the small bottle in the stream. Replacing the water skin’s stopper he shook it and was about to begin his ascent when a lucid whip-like tentacle exploded from the stream, and wrapped itself about his throat with swift and unexpected fierceness.

The tentacle jerked violently. Lennox tumbled face down in the water. To his horror he felt more transparent limbs wrap about his arm. The undefined horror, as clear as glass, had been completely invisible in the water. The young man couldn’t breathe. His vision was eddying towards darkness. His groping hand found a fist size rock. He swung his makeshift weapon, felt it strike rubbery flesh.

Again and again he desperately struck his unknown assailant as it dragged him into deeper water. Each blow landed a little weaker. Every second his vision grew a little darker. He fought on with frantic determination. With utter desperation he gathered his strength and brought the rock down in a final mighty blow. The tentacles loosened. He tore at them with weak and trembling fingers, jerked his head above the water and gasped in air as the ropy limbs came free.

Lennox staggered to the bank and collapsed upon it, breathing hard. Fortunately, he was more shaken than hurt. Luckily, the water skin that he’d dropped still lay at the stream’s edge. After several minutes he heard Yaquin worriedly calling his name.

“I’m okay,” he managed to cry out, having caught his breath. “I’m coming.”

With an effort he began the difficult ascent. Climbing from the gully Lennox walked to Masassa and offered her a drink. She looked questioningly at his saturated clothing and he related his misadventure to her.

“In future don’t wander off on your own,” she sharply warned. “There are things on this island even more unpleasant than that river creature.”

Lennox sat beside the sorceress without comment. She tiredly took the container from him. The young man removed his boots and began emptying them of water in attempt to hide his nervousness. He must sit next to Masassa to avoid suspicion. But he dare not look at her least he gave himself away.

The influence of the potion was almost overpowering in her presence. With all his will Lennox stilled his confessing tongue, which wanted beg forgiveness for his drugging of her. This was the critical moment. If Masassa noticed anything odd her suspicion would be instantly aroused. The sweat of fear was upon him. Lennox prayed his saturated state would hide it. He went cold when Masassa spoke:

“The water tastes strange,” she said, eyeing Lennox with a frown. Abax hissed, sensing his mistress’s unease. The thing seemed to grin at him as if anticipating his swift undoing, the relish of sinking its shark-like teeth into his flesh.

“May I try it,” he calmly asked – an unruffled façade which hid his true terror.

She handed the water skin to Lennox. He drank without hesitation, hiding his qualms as her eyes watched him with the intensity of a serpent ready to strike. There was a subtle taste, difficult to exactly define, but nonetheless noticeable. He prayed that an extra dose of the potion wouldn’t make things worse for him.

“It must be the stream’s water,” he calmly mused, which didn’t at all reflect his hidden feelings. “It was clear and swiftly flowing, not stagnant. I don’t think there is anything to worry about.”

The moment of danger passed. Masassa, seeing him drink without hesitation was reassured. She took the water skin and handed it to Yaquin. Inwardly, Lennox breathed a vast sigh of relief. He was glad he was sitting down. It was doubtful that his legs would have supported him. Now all he had to do was to wait for the potion to take effect; if it did take effect he worriedly thought, for he had no idea of the required dose.

**********

Another hour of tiring sweat drenched travel had passed. The group stood before the yawning entrance to a huge cave in the side of a high escarpment in the island’s mountainous heart. Two assassins flew out of the cavern’s gloomy interior, returning from their lengthy reconnoiter. One landed on Masassa’s outstretched arm. She placed her finger on its head and closed her eyes as her mind absorbed all that it had seen.

Lennox watched her intently. As yet there was no sign that the potion was having any effect even though Masassa had drunk frequently from the water skin. He could only dejectedly conclude that it was too dilute or that she was immune to her own magic. Bizarre as it was he’d hoped the potion would make her love him. He knew logically that this desire was not genuine, that it was magically induced, and that the woman whose love he desired had murdered his parents.

But such was the power of her sorcery that it overrode logic. With an effort Lennox cleared his mind of clouding desire. The young man glanced at Yaquin. The sorceress was absorbed in her work to the point of vulnerability. The magician understood, shook his head and pointed at Abax. Masassa’s hideous pet was watching them fixedly. Any hostile act on Yaquin’s part would be quickly and fatally foiled.

Masassa opened her eyes and smiled. “Yes,” she said exultantly to her companions. “This is the place. What I need is in a chest within the cavern.” Then, turning to Lennox: “This my divination has revealed: There is danger there, but neither my occult insight nor my assassins were able to clarify its precise nature. Despite this my magic shows the world-line in which you succeed is most probable.”

She turned to Lennox “We will rest for a while; then you will fetch what I need.” Masassa smiled her sultry smile. “You will fetch me what I need, won’t you?” she said as she slipped her hand behind his head and drew their lips together.

**********

Lennox stood within the huge cavern, looking upon the strange airship, which was illuminated by the light-rod he held aloft. The vehicle was a tapered cylinder of reddish alloy about sixty feet in length and fifteen in diameter. Five stubby rods, evenly spaced, projected from its upper fuselage. Globes six feet in diameter were affixed to each rod. The nosecone was all glass, or a material very much like it. The machine rested on landing skids. There was no sign of jets or propellers.

From the layer of grime covering it, it was clear that the airship was extremely old. According to Masassa it dated from the age of Molochur. The magical machine certainly looked more sophisticated than the flying vehicle of the sorceress. No doubt it was another example of long lost occult technology.

“Well, here I am doing Masassa’s bidding,” thought Lennox, sourly, the lingering effects of their passionate lovemaking in the bushes just now beginning to fade. He’d been unable to resist the sorceress, unable to deny her. But even if he’d managed to defy her no doubt Yaquin would have been threatened to force him to comply.

Lennox approached the open door in its fuselage. Lying close by was a large metallic chest, and around it a scattering of human bones. The grim sight completely cleared his mind of passion’s aftermath.

The crew had clearly been killed during the process of unloading their cargo – probably some device they desired to hide from a rival faction vying for the throne. But what had killed them? Was the unknown threat still present? He looked warily about. The softly glowing light-rod pushed back the gloom. He was in a pool of wan illumination. Lennox froze. His eyes bulged in horror. His mouth was dry with fear. Beyond was utter darkness and in it he now saw the hellish glitter of inhuman eyes.

Chapter 6: Cave of Terror

The things scuttled forward. Lennox looked in horror as the light-rod’s illumination disclosed three hideous forms. Their globular bodies, clad in a crab-like exoskeleton, were supported by six legs. Large forward facing crimson eyes, faceted in the manner of jewels, stared malevolently at him. Other smaller oculars were spaced about the circumference of the body, giving the horrors all round vision. The mouthparts were similar to an elephant’s trunk, but covered in bony plates and terminating in fearsome mandibles.

Lennox drew the dagger Masassa had just returned to him – a puny thing in the face of current danger. The horrors charged, drooling mandibles madly clacking. He leapt aside and stabbed one rushing beast. The blade grated off the creature’s bony armor. Again Lennox nimbly dodged as another nightmare swiftly came at him. The third lunged, its gaping mandibles darting like a spear.

He jumped back. Disaster struck – his foot slipped on the roundness of a human skull. Lennox tumbled, landed hard. The dagger and light-rod flew from his grip. The monsters rushed him simultaneously. Terror was upon him. His hand clutched desperately for his weapon. His fingers closed upon something – not the dagger but oddly familiar. Instinct took over. He raised the object, squeezed. Light flared, bathed the charging brutes in a cobalt glow. The creatures shuddered, collapsed. One fell near him. Its convulsing trunk flailed him like a whip. Lennox rolled clear, still blinded by the azure flash.

He lay panting, unable to see, drenched in terror’s sweat, expecting at any moment to be torn limb from limb by his monstrous foes. A minute passed. It seemed that death had lost this round. Soon his vision retuned, and by the dim light of the fallen rod he saw his erstwhile adversaries lying lifeless upon the ground.

Lennox slowly stood, still a little shaky from his narrow escape, and gazed wonderingly at the object in his hand. It was a black cylinder about eleven inches long and three in diameter with a pistol grip and trigger guard at one end. There was no sign of magazine well, ejection port or any other movable part save the trigger. The muzzle had no aperture. In its place was a blue cabochon fixed in a bezel mount, and it was from this that the fatal ray had lanced. Clearly, the weapon was a more refined version of Yaquin’s blasting rod.

Masassa had been right. Only he possessed the knowledge to succeed. A native inhabitant of this world would never have recognized the object as a weapon, would have been slaughtered by the horrors of the cavern. Perhaps the sorceress could have succeeded, but obviously she preferred someone else to take the risk. Lennox shoved the occult pistol through his belt and turned his attention to the chest. He wondered what was in it. Masassa hadn’t been specific, but whatever it was it would undoubtedly aid her quest for power.

The thought left him in a swirl of conflicting desires. The effects of the potion again came to the fore, urging him to aid the woman he loved; his conscious prompted him to fiercely resist. Lennox swayed, clutched his head in a state of emotional agony. He stove for calm and with an effort stilled his inner tumult and brought reason to front and centre.

If he didn’t aid the sorceress Yaquin would likely die by slow torture. But if he did aid her he was assisting with the enslavement of an entire continent. Neither outcome was appealing to say the least. The only thing he could do was cooperate and hope some opportunity arose that would enable the thwarting of her scheme.

Stooping, Lennox, with an oath, stabbed the pointed end of the light-rod into the ground and began brushing off the thick layer of dust that had accumulated on the lid of the chest. His efforts soon revealed two large grotesque masks embossed on its coppery surface. Between them was a vertical row of buttons marked with indigenous serpentine numbers from zero to nine.

Without warning the eyes of the masks began to glow with crimson light. Lennox jerked back in alarm, but to his horror found his left hand had suddenly adhered to the chest’s lid with all the immobility of a fleck of iron to a powerful magnet. His fright increased when one mask began to speak in sepulchral tones:

“My twin is thinking of a number that is the reverse of the number I am thinking of. The difference between the numbers we are thinking of ends in two. What are the lowest possible numbers we are thinking of?”

Then the second mask spoke in the eerier voice of its twin: “To unlock this chest and save yourself correctly answer with the buttons. Here, then, is a foretaste should you fail.”

Lennox gasped in pain as an electric shock shot through his left hand and jolted his entire body. He collapsed to his knees, cursing volubly. The mask continued its dire warning: “You have to the count of thirty to solve this riddle, mathematical. Fail and you die.”

The masks began to count. Lennox, with an effort, pulled himself together. This world was crazy, but he was in it and had to play the game by its rules. The riddle was a mathematical puzzle, and mathematics was his area of expertise. He had a fighting chance.

With his finger he began to write calculations in the dust. The count had reached six when a flicker of distracting movement caught his eye. He turned, gasped in fright at the sight of more eyes sinisterly glowing in the dark. The horrors rushed him. He drew the pistol, closed his eyes against its flare and fired in a sweeping arc.

Bodies crashed to earth. The counting masks reached fifteen. Lennox frantically resumed his task. His mind worked feverishly. Sweat was upon the young man’s brow. His finger sped across the dust. There was further movement in the gloom. Lennox cursed, fired again. An eerie cry cut through the dark.

The masks reached twenty five. Lennox had the answer. Clawed feet scuttled in his direction. There was no time for distraction. He punched in nineteen and ninety one. A hissing horror leapt at him – all clashing mandibles and grasping claws. He jerked away. His hand came free. He fell jarringly as the creature landed on the chest. It glared hatred at him, prepared to spring again. Lennox lunged for the fallen pistol, snatched it up and fired as it leapt.

A flare of blazing light erupted. The creature crashed on him, smothering him with its hard weight, its stink. Terror leant him strength. He heaved it off in a panic, staggered up and looked wildly about. No further threats presented themselves to his frightened gaze. Lennox sagged on the chest’s lid, breathing hard and trembling in delayed reaction to his horrible ordeal.

Shortly, he had his emotions under control and turned his attention to the heavy chest. The masks were quiescent, now merely grotesque ornaments. The lid was unlocked. He raised it and stared inside, holding the light-rod overhead. Surprisingly, the sole contents consisted of a translucent cube about the size of a grapefruit whose surface was a rainbow of swirling colors that reminded Lennox of the way a film of oil on water refracts sunlight.

The cube was suspended in a mount that was fixed by springs to the sides of the chest. He slipped it free and cast a glance around the gloomy cavern. All was quite. In the distance light from the wide entrance beckoned. He walked towards it, eager to leave the terrors of the cave behind him.

Lennox stepped out into bright sunshine and pure air. The sorceress was waiting for him. Yaquin was nearby being guarded by Masassa’s horrid pet. Circling above the trio were her two assassins. Immediately he sensed the tension in the air. The sorceress looked restless, distracted, as if dealing with some inner conflict. She wouldn’t meet his gaze directly.

Lennox knew he’d fulfilled his mission. His usefulness was at an end. Masassa might lust for him, but that wouldn’t stop her from cold bloodedly disposing of him. There was nothing of love in her passion. The pistol was concealed behind his back, thrust through his belt. His right hand, holding the light-rod, hung innocently at his side. The left held the cube. He couldn’t kill her, but without the clouding haze of sexual passion he could resist her. He was aware of Abax in his peripheral vision, standing too close to Yaquin to risk a shot. He must act now while he could.

“Here is what you want,” he said, tossing the cube in her direction.

Masassa gasped, lunged for the falling artifact. Lennox, having distracted her, dropped the light-rod, drew his pistol, and fired at the hovering assassins. The flare, though not dazzling in the sunlight, was nonetheless effective. One magical machine crashed to earth; the other dived swiftly at him. The sorceress cried out as Abax sprang wildly to her defense.

Lennox leapt aside, barely avoiding the assassin’s jet of fire. Masassa was now between her monstrous pet and him. He couldn’t shoot it without hitting her. The sorceress raised her index finger. A ray of violet light lanced forth from her magic ring. The beam struck his hand. He cried in pain and his pistol dropped from nerveless fingers. Abax tried to circle his mistress whose ring was now recharging. There was no time for Lennox to retrieve the gun. The young man fought off agony, quickly shifted his position. It became a deadly game - like squirrels chasing each other around a tree, but not at all amusing.

Masassa yelled commands at her remaining assassin. Yaquin cried a warning as the thing attacked the young man from behind. Lennox ducked. It whined overhead jetting fire, nearly striking the sorceress, causing her to start and the violet ray from her recharged ring to miss. Lennox knew he couldn’t keep this up forever. He rushed forward and clasped the distracted sorceress about the waist. But with one hand still numb from the violet ray he couldn’t get a proper grip. Masassa broke free. She drew a concealed blade, prepared to strike as his uninjured hand darted for the Crown.

The love potion at last took full effect. The sorceress hesitated in her murderous resolve. Not so Abax who leapt at him with homicidal glee. Masassa screamed as Lennox tore the Crown away. She collapsed as he hurled it at the rushing beast. The circlet struck the monster’s face a heavy blow. Lennox lunged for the pistol as it staggered. The remaining assassin dived at him. Yaquin hurled a rock he’d torn from the soil. It struck the occult mechanism a destructive blow as Lennox fired left handed. The ray caught Abax in the chest. The creature howled. It crashed to earth, rolled over and sprawled in utter stillness.

Lennox ignored the fallen brute. He knelt by Masassa. She was unconscious and pale, her breathing labored. She appeared to be dying, and in that moment of realization the vestiges of hatred were vanquished by love. Fear and grief came upon him in a torrent. He knew that logically he should despise her, that he should rejoice at her end, but found he couldn’t.

“Yaquin,” he cried as he clumsily picked up the sorceress and hurriedly carried her to the man. “I’ve torn the Crown from her, but I fear my act has caused her injury. She’s no longer possessed. You’ve got to help Masassa. The evil she has wrought is really Molochur’s doing. She is an innocent victim. You can’t let her die,” he desperately pleaded.

The occultist was moved by the extreme grief he saw etched on Lennox’s countenance. Magically induced though it was, nonetheless it was indistinguishable from genuine emotions. Yaquin gazed at Masassa. Perhaps she was as innocent as Lennox believed, or it might be that the love potion had blinded him to evil. He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and hoped that he wasn’t making a horrendous mistake. The magician doffed his backpack as he spoke.

“Put her down there,” he said pointing to the shade of a tree. “She’s in shock from the sudden severing of the link between her mind and that of the Crown. I have medicines that may help. But how much good they will do remains uncertain.” Yaquin hesitated, then went on: “You must prepare yourself for the possibility her mind is damaged beyond healing.”

Lennox paled. “God,” he gasped in mental agony as he laid Masassa down, then stepped back and allowed Yaquin to set about his work. The magician, with swift professionalism, pulled forth bottles from his backpack that Massassa had returned, mixed the potions he’d drawn forth. To Lennox’s surprise he filled a syringe with the preparation and injected it. Yaquin then laid an amulet on Masassa’s forehead and touched it with his ring. The talisman began to glow, the pearly light casting a halo about the unconscious woman’s head.

“I’ve done all I can,” said Yaquin as he sat by Masassa’s side. “Now we can only wait… and hope.”

Lennox joined him. Both men cast worried eyes upon Masassa. Lennox was in the greater state of distress. To him it seemed like an eternity passed in which he was beset by intense fear, guilt and regret. The black mood weighed upon him with all the ponderousness of a mountain.

Masassa’s breathing slowly became more regular. Color returned to her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment she stared blankly; then, as her gaze focused on Lennox recognition and memory of events returned to the woman. Her hand fearfully darted to her head. The Crown wasn’t there. Instantly, she realized that without it Lennox saw her as she actually was. It would be a shock to him – this sudden transformation from the epitome of beauty to something less. It might even neutralize the love potion, which was now the last thing that she desired.

“It’s all right,” said Lennox, guessing what was going through her mind. “I have the gift of true vision. I’ve always seen you as you really are. It makes no difference to the way I feel about you.”

The tenseness left her face. She wept with joy and vast relief. Lennox held her, stroked her hair and comforted her with the words of lovers. The young man could tell that the sorceress had changed. The fierceness that he’d sensed when they first met was no longer present. There was passion, yes; but Molochur’s cruelty and his driving thirst for power were thankfully absent. Masassa smiled as their glances met. They embraced avidly, but this time it was with love and not just animal passion.

Yaquin, somewhat embarrassed by this intense and uninhibited display, turned away only to gasp in further consternation. The body of Abax was nowhere to be seen, nor was there any evidence that the carcass had been dragged away or eaten by scavengers. The magician grasped Lennox’s shoulder.

“Abax has vanished,” he cried in fright. “The Crown and the cube that you retrieved, can you see them?”

Lennox looked around, his passion and that of Masassa’s cooled by Yaquin’s fear tinged words.

The young man felt sick. The Crown and the cube, like Abax, had vanished. All three looked at each other in complete dismay. There could be but one horrendous explanation – Masassa’s pet though badly wounded wasn’t dead, and now it had both occult artifacts.

Chapter 7: Confessions

“Abax couldn’t have gotten far,” said Lennox as he grimly drew the occult pistol. “Where do you think it has gone?” he asked Masassa.

“Did Abax come in contact with the crown?” Lennox nodded and Masassa swore. “That brief touch must have been enough for the spirit of Molochur to possess my pet.” The woman gripped Lennox’s arm with a strength that conveyed her terror. “The cube is a weapon that was considered too dangerous to use. That is why it was hidden. It is a key that will unlock forbidden dimensional portals. Horror will be unleashed upon the world. Vortices shall appear in the heavens: Huge whirlpools in the sky from which will erupt flaming energy that can burn entire cities to ash. Molochur must be stopped. There is no time for further explanations; to the ship with all haste.”

All three quickly rose and set out swiftly in the direction of the vessel. They fought their way through hindering undergrowth that perversely seemed intent on doing everything to slow their progress. An hour passed. Lennox could see that Masassa was tiring, not having fully recovered from the severing of the link between herself and the Crown. Nonetheless she pushed on with dogged determination, refusing his offer of rest.

Lennox wanted to ask her many questions, to find out what she was really like now that she was free of Molochur’s evil influence. He was bound to her by powerful magic and yet she was largely a stranger to him. Would their union prove fruitful, or in the long run would it prove to be a prisoner’s ball and chain that dragged on both? It was a sobering thought – one that broke through the love potion’s rosy haze.

The young man forced the unpleasant possibility aside. Considering the current emergency his personal issues would have to wait. He pushed on; helping Masassa over logs and through the denser growth in an unceasing struggle against fecund nature. But at last, after what seemed an age of effort, they emerged from the jungle and stepped onto the isle’s sandy shore. It was a short lived moment of triumph. Upon the sea, perhaps two hundred yards distant was the sorceress’s ship, its stern growing smaller as it swiftly fled away.

Lennox raised the pistol, but almost immediately realized the futility of the act. His arm dropped listlessly to his side. Masassa leaned heavily against him as Yaquin muttered an oath.

“We’re too late,” bitterly observed the magician.

Yaquin’s words were true. Molochur had escaped, but the cunning fiend had left a parting gift upon the shore – one of a number of devices, the sorceress’s aerial chariot included, stored within the ship’s spacious hold. From concealment in the jungle it now came clanking into view. All eyes turned at the sound and beheld the mechanism as it strode upon the beach.

The thing’s body was an ovoid of pewter hued alloy ten feet in length. Four mechanical legs provided its motive power. The upper surface was covered in spikes. At front and rear and on both sides protruded nozzles resembling fire hoses. These nozzles were mounted on ball and socket joints and deadly flames flickered in their mouths.

The thing came at them in a clattering run. A jet of blazing fire erupted from its front nozzle. The trio scattered. The fiercely burning liquid splashed upon the sand, fusing it with the intensity of its heat. Lennox fired his pistol. The hissing bolt slammed against the mechanism. A coruscation of leaping sparks erupted. It came on unaffected.

Again Lennox fired, but without effect. The thing rushed at him. He’d drawn its ire as he’d hoped to do. He bolted for the jungle to lure it away from his companions. The young man crashed through the underbrush, his pursuer in rapid chase. Another jet of fire erupted from its nozzle and sprayed across an intervening tree.

The blazing heat was a spur to Lennox’s frantic flight. He ploughed through the verdure; tiring rapidly, for after the arduous march he had little vigor left. The young man burst between some bushes. His eyes went wide in fright. A deep gully was right in front of him. He swore, leapt desperately across the unexpected void. Lennox’s clawing hands caught the further edge. Earth crumbled, fingers slipped. With a wild cry of fear he clung one handed for a breathless and precarious moment, then firmly caught the edge with both hands and hauled his trembling frame to safety.

The machine came on in a rush. The thing sensed the edge. It tried to stop, but couldn’t slow in time. Too weighty to make the leap it plunged nose first within the yawning void. One and a half tons of machinery crashed against bedrock. Its tank of liquid fire ruptured. The roar of the explosion shook the jungle. Flames leapt up from the gully as if the very mouth of hell had opened. Blazing heat struck Lennox like a blow as he staggered away from the chasm. Stumbling, he fell to earth and sprawled upon the ground, the breath knocked out of him.

Sometime later, his companions, who had been forced to detour around the chasm, came upon him. Masassa and Yaquin fussed over Lennox until he assured both he wasn’t seriously injured. Then, for a time all three rested in dejected silence as they recovered from their ordeals and contemplated the grim situation in which they found themselves. Then a thought occurred to Lennox and he told his companions of the flying machine he’d discovered in the cave.

“This pistol still works after many centuries. It’s possible the vehicle might also be operational. It’s our only hope of catching up with Abax,” he concluded.

“I agree,” replied Yaquin. “What are your thoughts, Masassa?” he asked, now confidant that in the light of her actions she was trustworthy.

“We have to try,” she earnestly replied. “Abax and his incorporeal master must be stopped. We must spare no effort in this desperate enterprise.”

**********

Lennox emerged from the cavern having completed his thorough search. None of its monstrous inhabitance remained alive. Killing the surviving creatures had been an ugly but necessary task that had left him in a bleak mood. He’d volunteered for the chore, not wanting to endanger his companions.

“It’s safe to go in now,” he said to Yaquin, lifelessly. “I’ll show you the machine’s location.”

The magician read his glumness and realized he needed a distraction. “Thank you for the offer. But Masassa is setting up camp, and could do with your help. I can find the flyer myself.”

Lennox smiled his thanks. Returning to that black hole was the last thing he wanted to do just now. He watched Yaquin enter the cavern, and then walked towards Masassa who was constructing a large lean-to from jungle sourced materials. The sight of her lifted his spirits and he eagerly leant a hand, helping her raise a tall forked branch that would form one of the supporting posts of the shelter. Together they slid it into the hole she’d dug and Lennox held it in place as Masassa set heavy stones and soil in the cavity to hold it upright.

“Where did you learn these skills?” he asked, seeing an opportunity to find out more about her.

Masassa spoke as she continued her work, coming out of her introspective mood. “Kimis is my native land. I was born in a small village, one of many that nestle within the vast sprawl of the jungle. Our existence is simple. We have no writing. Our tools are of stone, wood and bone. My life was ordained for me by tradition – to marry young, to bear strong sons for my husband. But fate, destiny, call it what you will, had other things in mind.

“I was sixteen when my life changed. I was on my way with my parents to another village where I would be married to a man I’d never met. We were crossing a broad river. It had been raining heavily in the mountains and the waters were high and running swiftly. My father, fearing to offend his future son-in-law by being late, had decided to cross despite the risk.

“We were mid stream when the fallen tree came out of nowhere. It struck the canoe like a battering ram. We were flung into the rushing water. I managed to grasp the end of the trunk by its roots as it rushed passed. I was carried away and never saw my parents again.”

Masassa paused for a moment to regain control over her emotions. She then continued. “I was swept downstream for many hours, but at last the river broadened, the current abated and I was able to safely swim ashore. I found myself alone and in an unknown portion of the jungle. I began walking upstream; confident I could retrace my path and eventually find my village.

“It grew dark and I became afraid, for the night is full of fearsome predators. Looking for shelter I came across the ruin, one of many others that formed an ancient time lost city choked by jungle growths. It was a huge building of gigantic stones, overgrown with vegetation, cracked by the roots of massive trees. Carvings were everywhere. Stone faces peered forth from shrouding vines, staring at me. At that time I had no understanding of what it was that I saw.

“I was terribly frightened, but my fear of nocturnal hunters was greater, and so I entered the ruin by its sagging archway. The interior was dimly illuminated by glowing spheres that hung from the vaulted ceiling of the spacious foyer. A wide corridor ran through the centre of the building, and upon each side were other passageways that formed a maze of spacious rooms.

“I’d spent perhaps an hour wandering through the place when I came upon a partly fallen wall whose collapse had revealed a secret cavity. In the hollow something unusual rested – an object that glittered weirdly in the gloom. Curiosity overcame fear, and I approached in awe of the strangeness of the aura of the thing.

“As I drew near I saw that the object in the cavity somewhat resembled the headdress our chief wore during yearly ceremonies. There was an odd allure to it. The urge to place it upon my head grew stronger the closer I came. The glittering of its metallic form, its gems, was hypnotic. I was in a trance-like state when I placed it upon my head. There was a flash of blinding pain so intense that I was rendered insensible, and when I awoke I found … something alien within me.”

Masassa hung her head and began to weep as evil memories overcame her. Lennox knelt beside her and held her comfortingly. She placed her head on his shoulder. The young man stroked her hair as he calmed her and after a time she settled.

“You are a good man. But I’ve done many wicked things,” she confessed as she dried her tears. “I’ve killed people and … and worse. No,” Masassa continued, holding up her hand. “Do not say Molochur is responsible.

“Yaquin thinks that the sorcerer-king’s soul resides within the crown, but he is mistaken. What is left of Molochur isn’t a personality as we understand the term, but for the sake of convenience I will refer to it as ‘him’. The truth, however, is that what remains is more a bundle of reactions and drives akin to the instincts of an animal. This and technical knowledge as one would find in a book is all the vestiges that now exist of the man who was once tyrant of the world. This pattern, for wont of a better word, integrated with my being. I was never a mindless marionette in the hands of a puppet master.

“From a simple uneducated jungle girl who knew nothing of civilization and all its finery I suddenly became imbued with knowledge far beyond the scope of my limited horizon. The visions of Empire were compelling, intoxicating and seductive. But even so I cannot be absolved from what I’ve done. It is only now that I am at last free of Molochur’s driving influence, and have had time to reflect, that I realize how evil I’d become. I … I’d understand if you never wanted to see me again.”

Masassa fell silent as Lennox soberly pondered her admission. The death of his parents came to the fore, breaking through the romantic fog of the love philter. The young man turned away as he agonizingly wrestled with his conflicting emotions, knowing his feelings for the woman were synthetic - the result of powerful sorcery - but at the same time unable to deny them. Masassa watched him silently, anxiously, knowing very well she might lose forever the man she had come to love. It would be a crushing blow, but she couldn’t blame him considering what she’d done.

Lennox, in a high state of consternation, ran his hands through his hair. He took a deep calming breath. Induced though it was, there was no denying that his feelings of love were indistinguishable from those arising when two people are naturally attracted to each other. Masassa had been honest with him. She could have laid the blame for her actions entirely at the feet of Molochur. He felt that she was fundamentally a decent person who, through circumstances largely beyond her control, had committed abominable acts. The path forward, he realized, was that of forgiveness rather than hate and the desire for revenge. He turned and looked at Masassa. She met his gaze and in it was hope and fear.

“I can forgive what you’ve done,” he began. “But you must also forgive yourself. Make amends for the evils of the past by helping us defeat its cause.” Lennox paused nervously for a moment. “I also have a confession ... Just as you made me love you with magic; I too used your sorcery against you. I stole the potion that you gave me, and dosed the water skin with it in an attempt to foil Molochur’s plans.”

For a moment Masassa looked shocked. The love potion could be quite subtle in its effects at times, and until now she hadn’t suspected that her growing feelings for Lennox were anything other than natural. She felt disappointed; then forced herself to smile when she saw the worried look upon her companion’s face.

“The love philter opened the way,” she began. “With time perhaps our feelings for each other will become genuine as the affects of the potion wear off. It is my hope that they do.”

Lennox smiled. “As it is mine also,” he earnestly replied.

**********

It was late afternoon by the time Yaquin emerged from the cave. Masassa and Lennox were sitting by the fire they’d built to cook the evening meal. The look on the magician’s face told them that his investigation of the flyer had revealed something was seriously amiss.

“The animating entity has escaped the confines of the mind-crystal,” he dejectedly explained without preamble as he sat wearily beside the couple.

“Meaning?” responded Lennox, who had no idea what Yaquin’s esoteric explanation portended.

Yaquin looked at him sharply; then softened. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m tired and had forgotten that what is common knowledge here is unknown to you, having been raised on Earth where, but for my mirror that brought you home, magic is nonexistent.

“On Earth electricity powers many of your devices. In this reality, however, things are quite different. Here the entire universe – every object and every part of every object including the atoms of which it is composed - is imbued with Mind, or consciousness as perhaps you would prefer to call it. This, then, is the animating force, separate from gross matter, which allows all things to exist and move and have their being.

“Mind is not uniform, but displays a spectrum from the very simple such as found in atoms to the extremely complex, with the highest forms being material and nonmaterial intelligences. Nonmaterial entities can be harnessed in much the same way that the people of Earth harness electricity to animate their machines. Unfortunately, the animating entity of the flyer has escaped. The machine is useless without it. We are trapped upon the island and without means of rapid transport have no way of stopping Abax in whose body now resides the evil essence of the long dead sorcerer-king.”

Chapter 8: Pursuit

“Can you replace the entity with another?” asked Lennox, needing to ask the question but fearful of the answer.

“I can bend simple entities to my will and thereby manipulate them - entities such as that which powers my blasting rod and the weapon you call a pistol. But the flyer requires a far more complex mind, and the knowledge of taming these beings was lost when Molochur’s empire collapsed in utter chaos.”

Lennox swore. “Then the sorcerer-king has won,” he said with bitterness.

“Perhaps not,” opined Masassa, a thoughtful expression upon her face. “Molochur’s mental pattern no longer influences me, nor have I the occult strength it gave me. But some of the knowledge I gained hasn’t left. I am confident I have sufficient data and abilities to capture the required entity and tame it to our purpose.”

Yaquin looked worried. “This is extremely dangerous,” he warned. “If your knowledge is deficient in the slightest degree, and your occult strength lacking, then the entity will turn on you like a wild beast and destroy you. Are you sure you want to take that risk?”

“What choice is there given the menace to the world?” she bluntly asked. “But if the three of us link our minds my abilities will be amplified, and thus increase the chances of success. Now I must ask if both of you are prepared to share the danger?”

“As you say, there is no choice,” said Lennox soberly. “The distance between us and Molochur grows with every passing moment. We must act quickly.” He turned questioningly to Yaquin, seeking his opinion.

“We’ll need all our strength. Let’s begin in the morning when we’re rested,” confirmed the magician, “and pray that whatever gods there are favor our most desperate enterprise.”

**********

Lennox sat upon a rock ruminating. Twenty days had passed without success, and by now Molochur would have arrived in Quto, capital of Saramass and port-city of the kingdom. Early on Yaquin had freed his mind from his earthy frame and followed the ship in disembodied form to spy upon their enemy. For a brief moment he’d spotted Abax, but Yaquin was at the limit of his powers and the ship soon passed beyond his range. However, this much he’d learned: The horrid creature definitely wore the Crown, for it was veiled in the illusion of beauty that had disguised Masassa. Clearly, the mental pattern and drives of the long dead sorcerer-king still had enough impetus to impel its plans for the conquest of Loasia.

Time was running out. Molochur was in possession of the cube – an occult weapon of mass destruction. The sweeping campaign would no doubt be set in motion within a week of the hideous creature’s return for Masassa, being privy to such matters, had advised her companions that all was in readiness for its launch. It was a bleak thought and in his mind’s eye Lennox saw the coming devastation that would be unleashed: Fire falling from the sky; entire cities consumed by the hellish conflagration, people screaming as they died in the utter agony of being burnt to death, and the streets choked with the smoldering corpses of the slain.

Lennox started with a gasp. Masassa had placed her hand upon his shoulder, waking him from his sickening vision of horror.

“Are you ready to try again?” she asked.

Wordlessly Lennox nodded, doing his best to hide his dejection as he stood. He followed her to where Yaquin was waiting. They sat facing each other in a circle in whose centre was the mind-crystal from the flyer – a pale blue tetrahedral gemstone of grapefruit size in which the captured entity would be imprisoned.

The trio joined hands. Lennox closed his eyes. Shortly, he sensed Masassa’s mind touch his own, then Yaquin’s. It was a very odd sensation difficult of description – the invisible but strangely tangible essence of her being that impinged upon his consciousness like the merging of soap bubbles. A slight sensation of vertigo followed then passed, and Lennox was looking down on himself and his companions – again a strange experience like the vision of a hovering bird.

The perspective swiftly changed. They were rapidly ascending, climbing the heights of the lime green sky to where the entities basked in the sunlight of the planet’s stratosphere. Up through thin cloud they shot, breaking into bright sunshine with the swiftness of winging thought. A vista of sky opened up to Lennox’s disembodied mind.

An age seemed to pass in futile inaction as they scanned the heavens. Then when all seemed hopeless a glint impinged upon their linked consciousness. In the distance was a pulsing sphere of golden light – a mere pinprick across the span of air. Swiftly, Masassa took them to it. Lennox sensed her excitement as they drew near, for with closing distance it could be perceived that a web of sapphire filaments ran through the entity’s aureate form – an indication of advanced complexity. At last, after much fruitless effort, they had found what they sought.

As they swept down upon their target the being sensed their swift intent. It soared heavenward with the velocity of a blazing rocket, but no less fleet were its determined pursuers. The sky grew dark, the air thin, and in but moments the curvature of the planet could be seen. The entity could not escape, could not break free of Abaru’s gravity. Cornered, desperate, it turned upon those who sought its capture and flew at them with wild desperation.

Masassa drew upon her companions’ mental energy. Her mind cast forth a net of paranormal force that enveloped the rushing being in a snare of lavender illumination. Lennox sensed its desperate fight against restraint. His essence was part of the snare as were the minds of Yaquin and Masassa.

Malignant forces from the entity rippled through the net, through the joined minds of the trio. Needles of agony thrust into Lennox’s being. He tried to scream, but had no voice. He sensed the wordless cry of his companions. Energies tore at him. Terror knifed him as he felt his consciousness dissolve. Blackness closed upon him like the grasping hand of a monstrous Titan.

Then defensive energy flowed from Masassa’s core – a silvery radiance that surrounded their conjoined minds. The pain faded, dissolution was held in abeyance. Masassa counterattacked. The ethereal net of lavender about the being flared with actinic intensity. The entity ferociously resisted. They tumbled through a whirl of sky like raptors locked in savage combat.

Lennox felt their collective strength fading. The entity was battling furiously for its freedom. It took all of their combined effort to hold it, and then only barely. They plunged rapidly earthward, Masassa’s leading essence dragging the fight to the waiting mind-crystal. Nearer they drew, weaker they became. The desperate entity sensed their enfeeblement, redoubled its violent efforts to break free.

Further weakness came upon Lennox. Strength was swiftly fading. The battling entity pierced the net with a blade of flaring light. Lennox and his mind-locked companions screamed, faltered. Masassa called upon the dregs of vigor, hurled it at the fighting being. The net was closed. They plunged, crashed against the mind-crystal.

Exhausted from the struggle the unity of the trio’s minds collapsed. The net dissolved. Their physical bodies tumbled. The entity was free. It tried to soar, but too late. Tendrils of ebon force swiftly sprang from the tetrahedron against which it had impinged. They rapidly enveloped the being. Swiftly, they drew it into the matrix of the gemstone. There was a brief flash of light as it disappeared within and then all was quiet and still.

**********

Lennox groaned and opened his eyes. He felt as if he’d run a marathon and his skull ached abominably. A hand lifted his head. His vision cleared and he saw that it was Yaquin who supported him.

“Drink this,” urged the magician. “It’s a restorative. You’ll feel better.”

Lennox grimaced as he drank the bitter liquid from the phial. Yaquin then gave Masassa the remaining dose. The restorative tasted horrible, but there was no doubting its effectiveness, for within a minute all three were feeling much better. They turned their attention to the mind-crystal. The surface of the tetrahedron was now covered with a mesh of blackness through which pulsed the golden light of the successfully imprisoned entity.

“Well,” observed Masassa. “The easy part is done. The true challenge will be Molochur’s defeat.

**********

Two days had passed. From a height the trio gazed through the transparent nosecone of the occult flyer. Lennox looked down upon the bustling port of Quto in amazement and wonder. A huge stone bridge one thousand three hundred and fifty yards long and two hundred and fifty in width linked the mainland to the nearby island of Coros, thus creating two substantial harbor basins thick with ships – the east for commercial vessels resembling Chinese junks, and the west for military craft of similar but more sleek design.

Upon the small island of Coros was a network of white stone fortifications bristling with powerful ballista – mighty torsion engines that could fling weighty granite spheres capable of sinking any hostile vessel. Moles – huge crenulated causeways curved out from both harbor basins, each with a massive fortress at its terminus. These added to the port’s defenses, for enemy ships would have to pass between them and the island’s ramparts, and thus be caught in a deadly crossfire.

In the middle of the island was a soaring lighthouse of pale stone four hundred feet in height that consisted of three tapering octagonal tiers. At its apex was a huge mirror mounted on a turntable that reflected sunlight during the day. The reverse side of the mirror was coated with a phosphorescent substance that glowed brightly at night to warn ships in the darkness. On the shore were capacious warehouses for goods imported from the far island kingdoms of Thunar as well as nearer nations that dotted the Loasian continent. Beyond the port was the city proper – a testimony to the wealth that trade had brought to Saramass.

Quto was a metropolis of wide canals leapt by graceful bridges, these waterways fed by the Kon River several miles to the west. Broad tree lined avenues divided the city into neat squares. Private dwellings were cubical in form with arched windows and doorways. Houses were capped with dome roofs of blue scale-like tiles. Adjoining walled courtyards were bright with colorful greenery. Public buildings were grander versions of the domestic architecture. The city had a huge plaza in its centre around which were stationed the administrative offices of the kingdom and the residence of the sovereign.

They flew above the impressive city heading in a westerly direction, and the metropolis soon gave way to lush canal irrigated farmland through which the broad flow of the Kon meandered before emptying into the Bay of Quto. A huge industrial complex of watermills lined both sides of the river for five miles, along with villages of simple homes where its workforce and the agricultural laborers dwelt. From the air the brutality of the former sorceress’s rule was well hidden.

On the eastern side of the river was a huge square of hard packed earth with giant sheds and barracks arranged around three quarters of its perimeter, and it was this area that Masassa’s intent gaze was fixed on.

“Upon that empty square were many war machines,” she bleakly said; – “the grim products of Molochur’s dark genius and my own hands. He has embarked upon his conquest of Loasia. We have arrived too late to stop him.”

Chapter 9: Confrontation

Lennox silently cursed. They’d been further delayed by the necessity of returning to Yaquin’s home to gather equipment and manufacture the bombs under Masassa’s directions. It had been Lennox’s idea to catch Molochur’s forces on the huge square Masassa had previously described to him. A surprise attack on the stationary rows of war machines and barracks would have caused much damage and bought the other nations they planned to warn further time. But Molochur, who would be too closely guarded by his magic and his men for any assassination attempt to succeed, had moved more quickly than they’d anticipated and thus disarrayed the plan.

“Yaquin, set our course northward to Thuna,” Masassa said. “The kingdom has been Saramass’s chief rival and therefore the target for the commencement of Molochur’s campaign. If we can still catch him by surprise we may yet be able to disrupt his ambitions. As for our plan of attack; well, we’ll have to assess the situation when we get there.”

The older man nodded. He tightened his grip on a vertical crystal rod and concentrated. The vessel’s entity sensed his mental command an altered its direction. The craft smoothly banked, accelerated, and sped across the sky with the speed of darting lightening. Forests and rivers hurtled passed in fleet succession beneath their winging ship, and within an hour another city and its farmlands came swiftly into view. They approached the metropolis with tense wariness, fearful of being spotted, but determined to press on despite the risks.

Smaller than Quto; Nez, capital of Thuna, was ringed by high ramparts and soaring towers of jade-like stone. The city proper was broken by a maze of streets and small parks filled with fruit trees and other edible plants that provided sustenance in times of siege. The homes of the plebeians were simple single story terraces with communal cooking and bathing facilities, while those of the wealthy were more palatial stand-alone pentagonal structures centered in lush walled gardens. A large lake occupied the heart of the metropolis and from its centre, accessed by a narrow stone bridge, was a grim granite fortress of towering battlements – the residence of Cambis, ruler of the kingdom. But it was not these things that held the trio’s gaze.

Molochur’s army was preparing to lay siege to the city with all its martial might. A dozen war machines – mechanisms identical to the one that had attacked them on the island’s beach – stalked towards the massive gates to burn them down. Behind them were other boxy vehicles similarly propelled whose high sides were crenulated, pierced by firing slits and packed with fierce eyed warriors armed with matchlock carbines. To the rear a multitude of barge-like troop carriers with mechanical legs disgorged armored foot soldiers that streamed down their lowered ramps and formed up with military precision.

Primitive ordnance, recent inventions like the matchlocks, was also in evidence: Six huge bronze bombards, or mortar-like artillery mounted on large gun carriages, were being emplaced by sweating crews. And at the rear, well beyond the range of the defender’s torsion engine fire, was the army’s extensive baggage train with all its supporting impedimenta, both natural and occult that served the force six thousand strong.

As Lennox gazed upon the host he was struck by the fact that the machines and men were so few in number. It seemed such an inadequate force to conquer the vastness of a continent. He’d expected the troops to be in their hundreds of thousands, perhaps a million, and he said as much to his attentive companions.

“Do not be deceived by appearance,” corrected Masassa. “They may be few in number, but have weapons far in advance of all the other kingdoms. Other armies are but toys when compared to Molochur’s. He will sweep them away as a broom sweeps away dead leaves.”

“Then we had better find a way to equalize the battle,” replied Lennox, worriedly. “The people of Thuna deserve at least that much.”

“I see the tent with Molochur’s standard,” added Yaquin. “But it’s surrounded by a protective aura that will deflect our bombs. The baggage train, however, isn’t guarded in this manner as it is well beyond the range of enemy attack. If we hit the wagons carrying propellant for the matchlocks and bombards the explosion will cause a huge amount of damage. The loss of supplies will be a significant setback for the conquest. This is probably the best that we can do.”

“Over there,” said Masassa, pointing. “I recognize those twenty wagons packed with barrels. That’s the explosives I formulated using Molochur’s knowledge – the same chemical fills our bombs.”

The flyer swept around and arrowed swiftly for the line of loaded wains, but as it did so Yaquin spotted a swarm of flying things coming at them with terrifying rapidity. Instantly he recognized them as the dragonfly-like assassins.

Masassa saw them as well. “Keep going,” she cried. “Don’t waste time with evasive maneuvers. We need to drop the bombs before they reach us.”

Yaquin flew on with grim determination. The patrolling assassins accelerated. Their bodies sliced the air. They fell upon the craft in a whirring storm, clung fiercely to it. Their mouthparts blazed with actinic fire that began to cut through the hull like a flaring gas axe. Lennox cursed as a jet of fire pierced the cabin, the terrific heat singing him. He grimly gripped the jury rigged bomb release, gazed intently through the floor observation port as other jets of raging fire pierced the hapless vessel’s hull.

They dived. On the ground men looked up as the craft’s shadow swept over them. Soldiers gaped, startled at the unexpected sight. Lennox jerked the cord. The net beneath their craft fell away. Bombs tumbled, struck earth and detonated in wild flame and thunder as the diving craft swept up towards the height of sky.

Some bombs missed, but most hit their target setting off a lightening chain reaction that resulted in the other carts erupting. The shockwave was terrific – a monstrous detonation whose frightful roar seemed to tear apart creation. The flyer, despite its height and speed, was caught by the violence that whirled it like a leaf in a tornado.

The clinging assassins were torn loose, were flung away. Their safety harnesses saved the trio from being hurled about the cabin. Yaquin fought desperately to right the tumbling vessel as it dropped perilously earthward. “The ship’s damaged,” he cried. “She’s not responding fully to the helm. Brace yourselves. We’re going down.”

The vessel came down hard; the impact jarring its occupants. Battered and bruised the trio sagged in their seats, breathless from the wild ride and almost fatal crash. About a minute passed before Lennox was able to unbuckle his safety harness and stumbled to an observation port. Outside, roughly a mile away, was a scene of utter chaos and devastation. The massive blast, far more violent than anticipated, had hurled flaming debris in all directions. Other wagons had also caught alight and were burning fiercely.

Lennox jumped when another terrific blast erupted as supplies of napalm-like chemicals for the war machine’s flame throwers thunderously exploded. Fiercely burning fuel was scattered far and wide in a spray of sticky resinous blobs that splattered everything in flaming destruction.

Tents that were in the process of being erected had been flattened and were now well ablaze, and all about were the scattered broken bodies of the numerous dead. The screams of the wounded filled the air with a cacophony of agony, and a pall of turgid smoke mushroomed into the sky, tainting the scene of horror with its sulfurous stench.

Lennox steeled himself against the ghastly view and forced himself to look about. In the far distance he saw that Molochur’s tent was leaning at a drunken angle. Its protective aura had collapsed, unable to withstand the fierceness of the enormous detonation. Survivors staggered about, shocked and dazed. The thunder of the mighty explosions had carried across the field of battle, but hadn’t halted the advance of the ovoid war machines as they were self-actuated. The boxy vehicles packed with soldiers, however, had stopped their advance as their officers realized something had gone horribly amiss.

The young man saw that the chaos presented an opportunity to swiftly act which must be seized with immediate alacrity. He said as much to his companions and concluded thus:

“We must make sure that Abax is dead and the Crown destroyed. This can’t be done from here. A search of the pavilion must be made. I will go alone while the two of you escape.”

“This is suicide,” gasped Masassa angrily. “You can’t face Abax and his master on your own. “We’re coming with you.”

Lennox opened his mouth to strenuously object. They’d barely escaped death, and he had no desire for the woman he loved to share any further danger. Yaquin cut him off:

“She’s right. We’re wasting time arguing; let’s away.”

Seeing it was impossible to dissuade his companions Lennox reluctantly agreed. Swiftly, they exited the craft, Lennox armed with his occult pistol and his companions equipped with blasting rods from Yaquin’s small armory.

They raced across the fields and into the chaos of the devastated encampment. No one opposed them. Men were fleeing in panic. A grassfire had started – kaeko, the tall wheat-like crops of the city’s grain fields had caught alight and were burning fiercely. The growing conflagration was being fanned towards the enemy encampment by a rising breeze, driving the foe away. Time was short. The trio dashed for Molochur’s tent which by now was well ablaze. The pavilion sagged, collapsed in a whoosh of gushing fire. They stumbled to a halt, the heat of the leaping flames keeping them back.

“No one could have survived that,” gasped Yaquin as he sat heavily on the ground, breathless from the run.

“Don’t underestimate Molochur,” panted Masassa as she looked warily about. “Look,” she gasped, pointing.

Some ten yards distant lay a body, man-like but bestial. They eagerly walked towards it, and shortly gazed upon the carcass of Abax. A piece of jagged shrapnel had pierced the monster’s side, and the trail of black blood showed it hadn’t died instantly. But of the Crown there was no sign at all.

Masassa gazed at Abax with grief. The creature had been a loyal pet – a wild thing tamed by her magic. Her affection for the brute was genuine despite its ugly appearance. She’d known it would probably come to this, and had accepted the hard fact as a brutal necessity. But even so it didn’t make it any easier seeing the creature lying lifeless at her feet.

Lennox by contrast swore bitterly. “Molochur has again switched bodies,” he exclaimed. “Abax must have lived long enough for him to do that. He could be any one of these fleeing soldiers. He could be anywhere by now.”

No sooner had these words been uttered than a sudden darkness filled the sky, blotting out the sun. The three looked up and beheld a fearful sight. In the heavens was a vast swirling mass of blackness shot through with spiraling ribbons of purple which shone with smoldering light as if their twirling forms were dimly glowing coals.

The rotation of the darkness accelerated. It became a vortex whose centre opened like the iris of a titanic eye. The core was thus revealed - a malignant crimson glow that wavered like the shifting veils of a strange aurora. Then, from the spinning heart shot forth a flame of virulent green – a mighty roaring jet of preternatural fire that lanced the earth with disintegrating force. The vortex moved and with it the blazing shaft of emerald flame. It drifted towards the hapless city, vaporizing everything within its deadly path.

“It is the cube,” Masassa gasped in horror. “Molochur has employed it in a desperate bid to wrest victory from defeat. He will destroy the city in his mad quest for power, and we cannot stop him because we do not know whose body he now inhabits or where that person is.”

Chapter 10: Vortex of Destruction

Lennox looked swiftly around the scene of devastation. By now the surviving soldiers had fled the fire’s swift advance as it raced across the grain fields. Windblown smoke was in his eyes causing them to water. It choked his lungs with its burning stench and cut his vision to approximately thirty yards. The rising heat was an additional warning that the frightful conflagration was bearing swiftly down upon them. Time was quickly running out.

“Yaquin,” he said, “can you shield us from the fire with that device of yours?”

The magician coughed, nodded. From his pocket he withdrew a sphere the size of an orange, the upper hemisphere of which was a silvery alloy and the lower a faceted crystal of amber hue.

“Stand closer,” he ordered as the globe floated from his hand to a position above their heads. They moved together tightly. A cone of radiance sprang forth from the lower faceted hemisphere of the globe and enveloped them in its protective tawny radiance. Almost instantly the air became fresher and cooler.

“This may not work well,” warned Yaquin. “My magical shield is still in its experimental stage. It hasn’t been fully tested.”

Masassa bit back an oath. “We must continue. We must find Molochur and stop him before he destroys the city and slaughters its inhabitance. But in which direction should we search? The smoke has thickened. I can barely see at all.”

The roaring fire, fed by the oily crops, had completely engulfed them. Leaping flames surrounded them. They were immersed in a raging inferno and above them turgid smoke blotted out the sky with billowing darkness. To find their enemy amid this hellish chaos seemed a hopeless task, but nonetheless try they must.

Lennox looked about as unharmed they walked slowly through the seething flames. A moment later something to his left caught his eye. It was a strange glow that seemed to somehow shine through the intensity of the surrounding blaze without being brighter than the fire.

He gripped Yaquin’s shoulder and pointed: “Over there,” he exclaimed sharply. “A strange glow, head high.”

“I see nothing but flames,” replied the magician, puzzled. Then it dawned upon him. “Your gift of true vision,” he said excitedly. “It allows you to see the Crown despite the veiling fire.” Then soberly: “We must approach with caution. It will be difficult to catch our enemy by surprise.”

They advanced warily in the direction of the glow, and as they drew near the flames began to diminish - the oily crops burnt fiercely and so were soon consumed. Within about a minute the enemy was disclosed as the dying fames fully subsided. Before them was Anias, commander of the army, and the sorceress’s former lover.

He, too, was surrounded by a defensive aura that had kept him safe. Upon his head was the Crown and in his hand a translucent cube whose surface was a rainbow of swirling colors. It was the weapon of fell and mass destruction that he now employed, consumed by the driving force of Molochur.

Anias had his weaknesses, but wasn’t truly evil. Regrettably he’d have to die to save the lives of many others - another victim of Molochur’s ambition. Masassa had never loved him. He’d simply been a tool. But now free of the long dead sorcerer-king bitter guilt and deep regret came upon her.

Anias turned to face them. He wore a derisive grin and uttered a mocking laugh that his protective barrier prevented them from hearing. With dark glee he pointed in the direction of the city. Lennox cursed. The titanic jet of flame was but moments from its target. He also saw that Anias had recalled all his war machines, which had been beyond the fire and thus remained undamaged. Heretofore hidden by the flames the trio hadn’t realized what had happened, and now the enemy mechanisms were swiftly bearing down upon them in a wild rush.

Matchlock carbines thundered. The warriors in the nearest war machine had unleashed a deadly volley. Lead shot smashed against Yaquin’s shield without effect, but one ball struck the hovering globe and shattered it to ruin. The protective aura crackled, vanished, leaving them vulnerably exposed. Heat and the reek of burnt things struck them.

“Quickly,” cried Masassa. “Interpose Molochur between us and his warriors. We’ll use his occult shield for protection.”

They dashed around the dome of force as another volley thundered. Shot whined passed Lennox in a narrow miss as the battalion of advancing war machines split in two to catch them in a pincer movement. The young man fired his weapon at Anias. The ray splashed against the occult shield in a rippling pool of light. The possessed man laughed derisively at the ineffectual attack. The war machines continued their swift advance.

“There is one chance,” said Masassa as the trio halted. “A disembodied mind might penetrate the shield. I will attack Molochur in this manner to distract him. If the shield collapses …” She hesitated for a moment, steeling herself to give the fatal order, “then blast the Crown with all your weapons’ might.”

She thrust her rod into Yaquin’s hand before either man could object, and quickly sat tailor fashion upon the hot and blackened earth. Within mere seconds they could tell her mind had fled its material shell. Lennox, his brain a morass of worry, glimpsed from the edge of vision the war machines begin to circle as the tremendous lance of flame swiftly near the hapless city. The sky was dark, the sun blotted out by the black mass of the swirling vortex. The weird crimson glow from its heart cast a sinister radiance upon the scene – the city, its burnt fields and the scattered charred corpses, transforming the landscape to a macabre spectacle of hellish nightmare.

One machine came around the dome of force. Lennox saw it, jerked Yaquin down. Gunfire thundered. Shot whined above their heads. Fountains of smoking dirt exploded at their feet. Anias suddenly staggered. Molochur’s occult shield flickered, collapsed. Both men saw their chance, fired simultaneously. Three rays of force struck the Crown. Anias’s head and the circlet he wore were engulfed in a blinding flash of deadly light.

The soldiers in the rushing war machines howled as their admired commander collapsed upon the earth, his face charred beyond recognition and covered in rivulets of molten metal. In fury they readied another deadly volley. Lennox knew that so near they wouldn’t miss again.

“Yaquin,” cried Lennox desperately as he slung Masassa across his shoulder. “To the corpse; we must use Molochur’s occult shield to protect us while we stop that foul vortex.”

Both men dashed to the cadaver, pursued by the racing war machines. The soldiers raised their matchlocks, took aim. Yaquin dived for the body, his eyes locked upon a crystal globe dangling from the dead man’s belt. Sensing its purpose he seized the mechanism, focused his mind upon it as the enemy squeezed the triggers of their carbines.

Guns roared, flung their lethal shot. The occult shield materialized and lead balls slammed harmlessly against it. But the danger to the city wasn’t over. As Lennox eased Masassa to the ground he saw the stupendous jet of fire strike the conurbation’s ramparts. The wall exploded as in an instant hard stone was utterly vaporized.

The young man watched in horror as the mighty lance of fire in automatic mode began to cut a lethal path through the city. He snatched up the cube, frantically searching for a button, for a switch that would deactivate the fell device. But of these things there was not the slightest sign. Desperately, he turned to Yaquin, but the magician was fully occupied struggling to maintain Molochur’s unfamiliar shield. Masassa was still unconscious, exhausted from the battle with her foe. Never before had he felt more alone.

Lennox looked at the cube, cursed it. He glanced at the pillar of sky towering flame that was eating into the heart of the city. He could imagine the terror, the chaos. God only knew how many people had already died. He felt sick to the core. A thought came to mind, one born of sheer desperation. He hurled the cube away and drew his occult pistol as the artifact bounced to a stop against the magic barrier.

The young man took careful aim. What would happen when he shot the thing was anyone’s guess. It might explode and kill them all for all he knew, but he had to take the chance. Grim of face he squeezed the trigger. The world exploded in a dazzling soundless flash and he knew no more.

**********

Lennox hovered in darkness for a timeless period, dimly aware of indistinct things at the far edge of his being. Slowly, consciousness floated up from the depths into which it had been plunged. The blackness gave way to grey and then to light by slow and gradual degrees. Shapes and colors unhurriedly clarified over what seemed an eon of time until at last the worried countenance of Yaquin came into view.

The magician said something. Lennox groped for meaning, but it eluded him. He could perceive the world, but it was as if he was a new born babe, seeing but not comprehending the things and people that passed before his eyes. He slept and woke and slept again. Slowly, over an indeterminable period of time his mind rewove the patterns of thought and memory, and understanding grew with each conscious moment.

Now he knew he was lying on a bed in a room. Light flooded the chamber through tall wide windows that overlooked a garden of vivid flowers. To his right was a large table on which strange bottles and unrecognizable medical equipment stood. Lennox was fully conscious. He felt well, but somewhat lethargic. He slowly sat up on the bed and received a severe shock as he looked down at his nude body. His skin had a slight golden sheen to it.

In a panic he lurched from the bed and stumbled to a full length mirror fixed to one wall of the room. Slack jawed he gazed at himself. His entire body, including his eyes looked as if a gold wash had been applied to it. Lennox remembered the explosion. It must have done something to him. He wondered alarmingly if he was still human.

Weak kneed he sank to the floor, staring in disbelief at his strange reflection. The door to the room suddenly opened. Masassa stood on the threshold, a large copper jug of water in her hand and a copper washbasin tucked under her arm. She gasped and moved swiftly to him.

“You shouldn’t be up,” she admonished, putting the items down and helping him to stand. “You need to regain your strength. You’ve been bedridden for about a month in an induced curative sleep while your injuries healed.”

“My lack of strength is the least of my worries,” he shakily replied. “What has happed to me, to the world during my lengthy convalescence?”

“The war is over,” she explained as she eased him onto the bed, then closed the door and retrieved the jug and basin. Masassa began to sponge him as she continued her explanation.

“When you destroyed the cube the dark vortex and its flame vanished. King Cambis, seeing the fearful destruction we had wrought upon his foes seized the moment. The city gates were flung wide and from them rushed the avenging warriors of Nez. In a wild charge they fell upon what little remained of Molochur’s forces. The war machines were destroyed and the soldiers driven from the kingdom in inglorious defeat. The political situation back in Saramass has stabilized. The council is in the process of electing a new king. Preoccupied as they are they pose no threat at the moment, and I doubt that they will considering the seriousness of their military defeat.”

“Then we’re in Nez, not Saramass,” said Lennox as he looked worriedly about the room.

“Yes,” replied Masassa. “You were badly burnt by the cube’s discharge, barely clinging to life in fact. The nearest medical sorcerers were in Nez. None are better. Yaquin is known to king Cambis from previous diplomatic missions, and is both respected and trusted. We’re being lauded as heroes for destroying Molochur and saving the city. I’ve been helping doctor Radjen treat you while Yaquin has been assisting with the repair of the metropolis. We can help him when you’re fully recovered. All things considered I think our future is in Nez rather than Saramass.”

“I trust your judgment on that,” he replied, “and I’ll be glad to help with the rebuilding.” Then worriedly and in a whisper: “Are you sure no one knows who you really are?”

“I have adopted my mother’s name – Darzu, and am posing as Yaquin’s apprentice, and you his assistant. Please remember these things. Masassa has mysteriously vanished and will never be seen again. My true appearance was always cloaked in Molochur’s illusion. No doubt he didn’t think I was attractive enough for the purpose of seduction,” she concluded with a touch of injured pride.

“Then Molochur was a fool,” sincerely replied Lennox as he gazed upon his love with earnest desire.

Darzu smiled and returned his look with longing. “It means a lot to me to hear you say that. You see by now the effects of the love potion have worn off both of us, so your words are from the soul, unprompted by the influence of mere chemicals. They are genuine as are mine when I say I truly love you.”

Your legs may be weak,” she continued playfully as she gazed admiringly upon his nudity. “But I see another part of you stands very firm and proud.”

Lennox laughed. “Considering what you’re washing it should come as no surprise.” Then he sobered. “My coloration; is it permanent? I must look like a freak.”

“It’s permanent,” she replied. “It is a result of the healing process. But you’re no freak in my eyes. I love you for who you are, not the color of your skin, which is such a superficial thing.”

Lennox smiled. Reassured he reached for her joyously. The loneliness of his life on Earth was at last behind him. He had found his true home, good friends and love. The future looked bright indeed.

Darzu caught his hands and smiled. “Well, you certainly are feeling better. But I think it best if I lock the door first, don’t you?”

Lennox grinned. He couldn’t disagree with that.

The End