Kull

Contents
Introduction by Andrew J. Offutt ..............   1
Prolog ......................................   5
Exile of Atlantis .............................   7
The Shadow Kingdom ........................ 14
The Altar and the Scorpion .................... 48
Delcardes Cat .............................. 53
The Skull of Silence .......................... 81
By This Axe I Rule! .......................... 90
The Striking of the Gong ...................... Ill
Swords of the Purple Kingdom ................ 116
The Mirrors of Tuzun Thune .................. 145
The King and the Oak ........................ 155
The Black City (fragment) .................... 157
Untitled (fragment) .......................... 161
Untided (fragment) ......................... 181
Epilog ...................................... 184


Prolog
     Of that epoch known by the Nemedian chroni-
clers as the Pre-Cataclysmic Age, little is known ex-
cept the latter part, and that is veiled in the mists of
legendry. Known history begins with the waning of
the Pre-Cataclysmic civilization, dominated by the
kingdoms of Kamelia, Valusia, Verulia, Grondar,
Thule, and Commoria. These peoples spoke a similar
language, arguing a common origin. There were other
kingdoms, equally civilized, but inhabited by differ-
ent, and apparently older, races.
     The barbarians of that age were the Picts, who
lived on islands far out on the western ocean; the At-
lanteans, who dwelt on a small continent between Pict-
ish Islands and the main, or Thurian, continent; and
the Lemurians, who inhabited a chain of large islands
in the eastern hemisphere.
     There were vast regions of unexplored land. The
civilized kingdoms, though enormous in extent, occu-
pied a comparatively small portion of the whole
planet. Valusia was the westernmost kingdom of the
Thurian Continent; Grondar the easternmost. East of
Grondar, whose people were less highly cultured than
those of the other kingdoms, stretched a wild and bar-
ren expanse of deserts. Among the less arid stretches, in
the Jungles, and among the mountains, lived scattered
clans and tribes of primitive savages. Far to the South
there was a mysterious civilization, unconnected with
the Thurian culture, and apparently pre-human in its
nature. On the far eastern shores of the continent
there lived another race, human, but mysterious and
non-Thurian, with whom the Lemurians from time to
time came in contact. They apparently came from a
shadowy and nameless continent lying somewhere
east of the Lemurian Islands.
     The Thurian civilization was crumbling; their ar-
mies were composed largely of barbarian mercenaries.
Picts, Atlanteans, and Lemurians were their generals,
their statesmen, often their kings. Of the bickerings of
the kingdoms, and the wars between Valusia and
Commoria, as well as the conquests by which the At-
lanteans founded a kingdom on the mainland, there
are more legends than accurate history.

—The Hyborian Age



Exile of Atlantis
     
The sun was setting. A last crimson glory filled
the land and lay like a crown of blood on the snow-
sprinkled peaks. The three men who watched the
death of the day breathed deep the fragrance of the
early wind which stole up out of the distant forests,
and then turned to a more material task. One of the
men was cooking venison over a small fire, and this
man, touching a finger to the smoking viand, tasted
with the air of a connoisseur.
     "All ready, Kull—Khor-nah; let us eat."
     The speaker was young—little more than a boy: a
tall, slim-waisted, broad-shouldered lad who moved
with the easy grace of a leopard. Of his companions,
one was an older man, a powerful, massively-built,
hairy man with an aggressive face. The other was a
counterpart of the speaker, except for the fact that he
was slightly larger—taller, a thought deeper of chest
and broader of shoulder. He gave the impression,
even more than the first youth, of dynamic speed con-
cealed in long, smooth muscles.
     "Good," said he, "I am hungry."
     "When were you ever otherwise, KulI?" jeered the
first speaker.
"When I am fighting," Kull answered seriously.
The other shot a quick glance at his friend so as
to fathom his inmost mind; he was not always sure of
his friend.
     "And then you are blood-hungry," broke in the
older man. "Am-ra, have done with your bantering
and cut us food."
     Night began to fall; the stars blinked out. Over
the shadowy hill country swept the dusk wind. Far
off, a tiger roared suddenly. Khor-nah made an in-
stinctive motion toward the flint-pointed spear which
lay beside him. Kull turned his head, and a strange
light flickered in his cold gray eyes.
     "The striped brothers hunt tonight," said he.
     "They worship the rising moon," Am-ra indicated
the east where a red radiance was becoming evident.
     "Why?" asked Kull. "The moon discloses them to
their prey and their enemies."
     ''Once, many hundreds of years ago," said Khor-
nah, "a king tiger, pursued by hunters, called on the
woman in the moon, and she flung him down a vine
whereby he climbed to safety and abode for many
years in the moon. Since then, all the striped people
worship the moon."    
     "I don't believe it," said Kull bluntly. "Why
should the striped people worship the moon for aiding
one of their race who died so long ago? Many a tiger
has scrambled up Death Cliff and escaped the hunt-
ers, but they do not worship that cliff. How should
they know what took place so long ago?"
     Khor-nah's brow clouded, "It little becomes you,
Kull, to jeer at your elders or to mock the legends of
your adopted people. This tale must be true, because
it has been handed down from generation unto gener-
ation longer than men remember. What always was,
must always be."
     "I don't believe it," reiterated Kull. "These moun-
tains always were, but someday they will crumble and
vanish. Someday the sea will flow over these hills—"
     "Enough of this blasphemy!" cried Khor-nah with
a passion that was almost anger. "Kull, we are close
friends, and I bear with you because of your youth;
but one thing you must learn: respect for tradition.
You mock at the customs and ways of our people; you
whom that people rescued from the wilderness and
gave a home and a tribe."
     "I was a hairless ape roaming in the woods," ad-
mitted Kull frankly and without shame. "I could not
speak the language of men, and my only friends were
the tigers and the wolves. I know not whom my peo-
ple were, or what blood am I—"
     That matters not," broke in Khor-nah. "For all
you have the aspect of one of that outlaw tribe who
lived in Tiger Valley, and who perished in the Great
Flood, it matters little. You have proven yourself a
valiant warrior and a mighty hunter—"
     "Where will you find a youth to equal him in
throwing the spear or in wrestling?" broke in Am-ra,
his eyes alight
     "Very true," said Khor-nah. "He is a credit to the
Sea-mountain tribe, but for all that, he must control
his tongue and learn to reverence the holy things of
the past and of the present."
     "I mock not, said Kull without malice. "But
many things the priests say I know to be lies, for I
have run with the tigers and I know wild beasts better
than the priests. Animals are neither gods nor fiends,
but men in their way without the lust and greed of
the man—"
     "More blasphemy!" cried Khor-nah angrily. "Man
is Valka's mightiest creation."
     Am-ra broke in to change the subject. "I heard
the coast drums beating early in the morning. There is
war on the sea. Valusia fights the Lemurian pirates."
     "Evil luck to both," grunted Khor-nah.
     Kull's eyes flickered again. "Valusia! Land of En-
chantment! Someday I will see the great City of Won-
der."
     "Evil the day that you do," snarled Khor-nah. "You
will be loaded with chains, with the doom of torture
and death hanging over you. No man of our race sees
the Great City save as a slave."
"Evil luck attend her," muttered Am-ra.
"Black luck and a red doom!" exclaimed Khor-
nah, shaking his fist toward the east. "For each drop
of spilt Atlantean blood, for each slave toiling in their
cursed galleys, may a black blight rest on Valusia and
all the Seven Empires!"
     Am-ra, fired, leaped lithely to his feet and re-
peated part of the curse; Kull cut himself another slice
of cooked meat.
     "I have fought the Valusians," said he. "And they
were bravely arrayed but not hard to kill. Nor were
they evil featured."
     "You fought the feeble guard of her northern
coast," grunted Khor-nah. "Or the crew of stranded
merchant ships. Wait until you have faced the charge
of the Black Squadrons, or the Great Army, as have I.
Hai! Then there is blood to drink! With Gandaro of
the Spear, I harried the Valusian coasts when I was
younger than you, Kull. Aye, we carried the torch and
the sword deep into the empire. Five hundred men we
were, of all the coast tribes of Atlantis. Four of us re-
turned! Outside the village of Hawks, which we
burned and sacked, the van of the Black Squadrons
smote us. Hai, there the spears drank and the swords
were eased of thirst! We slew and they slew, but when
the thunder of battle was stilled, four of us escaped
from the field, and all of us sore wounded."
     "Ascalante tells me," pursued Kull, "that the walls
about the Crystal City are ten times the height of a
tall man; that the gleam of gold and silver would daz-
zle the eyes, and the women who throng the streets or
lean from their windows are robed in strange, smooth
robes that rustle and sheen."
     "Ascalante should know," grimly said Khor-nah,
"since he was slave among them so long that he forgot
his good Atlantean name and must forsooth abide by
the Valusian name they gave him."
     "He escaped," commented Am-ra.
     "Aye, but for every slave that escapes the
clutches of the Seven Empires, seven are rotting in
dungeons and dying each day, for it was not meant
for an Atlantean to bide as a slave."
     "We have been enemies to the Seven Empires
since the dawn of time," mused Am-ra.
     "And will. be until the world crashes," said Khor-
nah with a savage satisfaction. "For Atlantis, thank
Valka, is the foe of all men,"
     Am-ra rose, taking his spear, and prepared to
stand watch. The other two lay down on the sward
and dropped off to sleep. Of what did Khor-nah
dream? Battle perhaps, or the thunder of buffalo, or a
girl of the caves. Kull—
     Through the mists of his sleep echoed faintly and
far away the golden melody of the trumpets. Clouds
of radiant glory floated over him; then a mighty vista
opened before his dream self. A great concourse of
people stretched away into the distance, and a thun-
derous roar in a strange language went up from them.
There was a minor note of steel clashing, and great
shadowy armies reined to the right and the left; the
mist faded, and a face stood out boldly, a face. above
which hovered a regal crown—a, hawk-like face, dis-
passionate, immobile, with eyes like the gray of the
cold sea. Now the people thundered again; "Hail the
king! Hail the king! Kull the king!"
     Kull awoke with a start—the moon glimmered on
the distant mountains, the wind sighed through the
tall grass. Khor-nah slept beside him and Am-ra stood,
a naked bronze statue against the stars. Kull's eyes
wandered to his scanty garment: a leopard's hide
twisted about bis pantherish loins, A naked barbar-
ian—Kull's cold eyes glimmered. Kull the king! Again
he slept.
     They arose in the morning and set out for the caves
of the tribe. The sun was not yet high when the broad
blue river met their gaze and the caverns of the tribe-
rose to view,
     "Look!" Am-ra cried out sharply. "They burn
someone!"
     A heavy stake stood before the caves; thereon
was a young girl bound. The people who stood about,
hard-eyed, showed no sign of pity.


     "Sareeta," said Khor-nah, his face setting into un-
bending lines. "She married a Lemurian pirate, the
wanton."
     "Aye," broke in a stony-eyed old woman. "My
own daughter; thus she brought shame on Atlantis.
My daughter no longer! Her mate died; she was
washed ashore when their ship was broken by the
craft of Atlantis."
     Kull eyed the girl compassionately. He could not
understand—why did these people, her own kind and
blood, frown on her so, merely because she chose an
enemy of her race? In all the eyes that were centered
on her, Kull saw only one trace of sympathy. Am-ra's
strange blue eyes were sad and compassionate.
     What Kull's own immobile face mirrored there is
no knowing. But the eyes of the doomed girl rested on
his. There was no fear in her eyes, but a deep and
vibrant appeal. Kull's gaze wandered to the fagots at
her feet. Soon the priest, who now chanted a curse
beside her, would stoop and light these with the torch
which he now held in his left hand. Kull saw that she
was bound to the stake with a heavy wooden chain, a
peculiar thing which was typically Atlantean in its
manufacture. He could not sever that chain, even if he
reached her through the throng that barred his way.
Her eyes implored him. He glanced at the fagots,
touched the long flint dagger at his girdle. She under-
stood, nodded, relief flooding her eyes.
     Kull struck as suddenly and unexpectedly as a
cobra. He snatched the dagger from his girdle and
threw it. Fairly under the heart it struck, killing her
instantly. While the people stood spellbound, Kull
wheeled, bounded away, and ran up the sheer side of
the cliff for twenty feet, like a cat. The people stood,
struck dumb; then a man whipped up bow and arrow
and sighted along the smooth shaft. Kull was heaving
himself over the lip of the cliff; the bowman's eyes
narrowed—Am-ra, as if by accident, lurched headlong
into him, and the arrow sang wide and aside. Then
Kull was gone.
     He heard the screaming on his track; his own
tribesmen, fired with the blood-lust, wild to run him
down and slay him for violating their strange and
bloody code of morals. But no man in Atlantis could
outrun Kull of the Sea-mountain tribe.

     Kull eludes his infuriated tribesmen, only to fall
captive to the Lemurians, For the next two years he
toils as a slave at the oars of a galley, before escaping.
He makes his way to Valusia, where he becomes an
outlaw in the hills, until captured and confined in her
dungeons. Fortune smiles upon him; he becomes, suc-
cessively, a gladiator in the arena, a soldier in the
army, and a commander. Then, with the backing of
the mercenaries and certain discontented Valusian no-
blemen, he strikes for the throne. Kull it is who slays
the despotic King Borna and rips the crown from his
gory head. The dream has become reality; Kull of At-
lantis sits enthroned in ancient Valusia.



The Shadow Kingdom



1. A King Comes Riding

     The blare of the trumpets grew louder, like a
deep golden tide surge, like the soft booming of the
evening tides against the silver beaches of Valusia.
The throng shouted, women flung roses from the
roofs as the rhythmic chiming of silver hosts came
clearer and the first of the mighty array swung into
view in the broad white street that curved round the
golden-spired Tower of Splendor.
     First came the trumpeters, slim youths, clad in
scarlet, riding with a flourish of long, slender golden
trumpets; next the bowmen, tall men from the moun-
tains; and behind these the heavily armed footmen,
their broad shields clashing in unison, their long
spears swaying in perfect rhythm to their stride. Be-
hind them came the mightiest soldiery in all the
world, the Red Slayers,  horsemen, splendidly
mounted, armed in red from helmet to spur. Proudly
they sat their steeds, looking neither to right nor to
left, but aware of the shouting for all that. Like
bronze statues they were, and there was never a
waver in the forest of spears that reared above them.
     Behind those proud and terrible ranks came the
motley files of the mercenaries, fierce, wild-looking
warriors, men of Mu and of Kaa-u and of the hills of
the east and the isles of the west. They bore spears
and heavy swords, and a compact group that marched
somewhat apart were the bowmen of Lemuria. Then
came the light foot of the nation, and more trumpeters
brought up the rear.
     A brave sight, and a sight which aroused a fierce
thrill in the soul of Kull, king of Valusia. Not on the
Topaz Throne at the front of the regal Tower of
Splendor sat Kull, but in the saddle, mounted on a
great stallion, a true warrior king. His mighty arm
swung up in reply to the salutes as the hosts passed.
His fierce eyes passed the gorgeous trumpeters with a
casual glance, rested longer on the following soldiery;
they blazed with a ferocious light as the Red Slayers
halted in front of him with a clang of arms and a rear-
ing of steeds, and tendered him the crown salute.
They narrowed slightly as the mercenaries strode by.
They saluted no one, the mercenaries. They walked
with shoulders flung back, eyeing Kull boldly and
straightly, albeit with a certain appreciation; fierce
eyes, unblinking; savage eyes, staring from beneath
shaggy manes and heavy brows.
     And Kull gave back a like stare. He granted
much to brave men, and there were no braver in all
the world, not even among the wild tribesmen who
now disowned him. But Kull was too much the savage
to have any great love for these. There were too many
feuds. Many were age-old enemies of Kull's nation,
and though the name of Kull was now a word ac-
cursed among the mountains and valleys of his people,
and though Kull had put them from his mind, yet the
old hates, the ancient passions still lingered. For Kull
was no Valusian but an Atlantean.
     The armies swung out of sight around the gem-
blazing shoulders of the Tower of Splendor and Kull
reined his stallion about and started toward the palace
at an easy gait, discussing the review with the com-
manders that rode with him, using not many words,
but saying much.
     "The army is like a sword," said Kull, "and must
not be allowed to rust." So down the street they rode,
and Kull gave no heed to any of the whispers that
reached his hearing from the throngs that still
swarmed the streets.
     That is Kull, see! Valka! But what a king! And
what a man! Look at his arms! His shoulders!"
And an undertone of more sinister whispering:
"Kull! Ha, accursed usurper from the pagan isles"
"Aye, shame to Valusia that a barbarian sits on the
Throne of Kings." . . .
     Little did Kull heed. Heavy-handed had he seized
the decaying throne of ancient Valusia and with a
heavier hand did he hold it, a man against a nation.
     After the council chamber, the social palace
where Kull replied to the formal and laudatory
phrases of the lords and ladies, with carefully hidden
grim amusement at such frivolities; then the lords
and ladies took their formal departure and Kull leaned
back upon the ermine throne and contemplated mat-
ters of state until an attendant requested permission
from the great king to speak, and announced an emis-
sary from the Pictish embassy.
     Kull brought his mind back from the dim mazes
of Valusian statecraft where it had been wandering,
and gazed upon the Pict with little favor. The man
gave back the gaze of the king without flinching. He
was a lean-hipped, massive-chested warrior of middle
height, dark, like all his race, and strongly built. From
strong, immobile features gazed dauntless and inscru-
table eyes.
     "The chief of the Councilors, Ka-nu of the tribe,
right hand of the king of Pictdom, sends greetings and
says: "There is a throne at the feast of the rising moon
for Kull, king of kings, lord of lords, emperor of Valu-
sia.'"
     "Good," answered Kull. "Say to Ka-nu the Ancient, 
ambassador of the western isles, that the king of
Valusia will quaff wine with him when the moon
floats over the hills of Zalgara."
Still the Pict lingered. "I have a word for the
king, not"—with a contemptuous flirt of his hand--"for
these slaves."
     Kull dismissed the attendants with a word,
watching the Pict warily.
The man stepped nearer, and lowered his voice:
"Come alone to feast tonight, lord king. Such was the
word of my chief."
     The king's eyes narrowed, gleaming like gray
sword steel, coldly.
     "Alone?"
     "Aye."
     They eyed each other silently, their mutual tribal
enmity seething beneath their cloak of formality.
Their mouths spoke the cultured speech, the conven-
tional court phrases of a highly polished race, a race
not their own, but from their eyes gleamed the primal
traditions of the elemental savage. Kull might be the
king of Valusia and the Pict might be an emissary to
her courts, but there in the throne hall of kings, two
tribesmen glowered at each other, fierce and wary,
while ghosts of wild wars and world-ancient feuds
whispered to each.
     To the king was the advantage and he enjoyed it
to its fullest extent. Jaw resting on hand, he eyed the
Pict, who stood like an image of bronze, head flung
back, eyes unflinching.
     Across Kull's lips stole a smile that was more a
sneer.
     "And so I am to come—alone?" Civilization had
taught him to speak by innuendo and the Pict's dark
eyes glittered, though he made no reply. "How am I
to know that you come from Ka-nu?"
     "I have spoken," was the sullen response.
     "And when did a Pict speak truth?" sneered Kull,
fully aware that the Picts never lied, but using this
means to enrage the man.
     "I see your plan, king," the Pict answered imper-
turbably. "You wish to anger me. By Valka, you need
go no further! I am angry enough. And I challenge
you to meet me in single battle, spear, sword or dag-
ger, mounted or afoot. Are you king or man?"
     Kull's eyes glinted with the grudging admiration
a warrior must needs give a bold foeman, but he did
not fail to use the chance of further annoying his an-
tagonist.
     "A king does not accept the challenge of a name-
less savage," he sneered, "nor does the emperor of Val-
usia break the Truce of Ambassadors. You have leave
to go. Say to Ka-nu I will come alone."
     The Pict's eyes flashed murderously. He fairly
shook in the grasp of the primitive blood-lust; then,
turning his back squarely upon the king of Valusia, he
strode across the Hall of Society and vanished through
the great door.
     Again Kull leaned back upon the ermine throne
and meditated.
     So the chief of the Council of Picts wished him to
come alone? But for what reason? Treachery? Grimly
Kull touched the hilt of his great sword. But scarcely.
The Picts valued too greatly the alliance with Valusia
to break it for any feudal reason. Kull might be a war-
rior of Atlantis and hereditary enemy of all Picts, but
too, he was king of Valusia, the most potent ally of the
Men of the West.
     Kull reflected long upon the strange state of af-
fairs that made him ally of ancient foes and foe of
ancient friends. He rose and paced restlessly across
the hall, with the quick, noiseless tread of a lion.
Chains of friendship, tribe and tradition had he bro-
ken to satisfy his ambition. And, by Valka, god of the
sea and the land, he had realized that ambition! He
was king of Valusia—a fading, degenerate Valusia, a
Valusia living mostly in dreams of bygone glory, but
still a mighty land and the greatest of the Seven Em-
pires. Valusia—Land of Dreams, the tribesmen named
it, and sometimes it seemed to Kull that he moved in a
dream. Strange to him were the intrigues of court and
palace, army and people. All was like a masquerade,
where men and women hid their real thoughts with a
smooth mask. Yet the seizing of the throne had been
easy—a bold snatching of opportunity, the swift whirl
of swords, the slaying of a tyrant of whom men had
wearied unto death, short, crafty plotting with ambi-
tious statesmen out of favor at court—and Kull, wan-
dering adventurer, Atlantean exile, had swept up to
the dizzy heights of his dreams: he was lord of Valu-
sia, king of kings. Yet now it seemed that the seizing
was far easier than the keeping. The sight of the Pict
had brought back youthful associations to his mind,
the free, wild savagery of his boyhood. And now a
strange feeling of dim unrest, of unreality, stole over
him as of late it had been doing. Who was he, a
straightforward man of the seas and the mountain, to
rule a race strangely and terribly wise with the mysti-
cisms of antiquity? An ancient race—
     "I am Kull!" said he, flinging back his head as a
lion flings back his mane. "I am Kull!"
     His falcon gaze swept the ancient hall. His self-
confidence flowed back. . . . And in a dim nook of
the hall a tapestry moved—slightly.



2. Thus Spake the Silent Halls of Valusia

     The moon had not risen, and the garden was
lighted with torches aglow in silver cressets when Kull
sat down on the throne before the table of Ka-nu, am-
bassador of the western isles. At his right hand sat the
ancient Pict, as much unlike an emissary of that fierce
race as a man could be. Ancient was Ka-nu and wise
in statecraft, grown old in the game. There was no
elemental hatred in the eyes that looked at Kull ap-
praisingly; no Tribal traditions hindered his judg-
ments. Long associations with the statesmen of the
civilized nations had swept away such cobwebs. Not:
who and what is this man? was the question ever fore-
most in Ka-nu's mind, but: can I use this man, and
how? Tribal prejudices he used only to further his
own schemes.
     And Kull watched Ka-nu, answering his conversa-
tion briefly, wondering if civilization would make of
him a thing like the Pict. For Ka-nu was soft and
paunchy. Many years had stridden across the sky-rim
since Ka-nu had wielded a sword. True, he was old,
but Kull had seen men older than he in the forefront
of battle. The Picts were a long-lived race. A beautiful
girl stood at Ka-nu's elbow, refilling his goblet, and
she was kept busy. Meanwhile Ka-nu kept up a run-
ning fire of jests and comments, and Kull, secretly
contemptuous of his garrulity, nevertheless missed
none of his shrewd humor.
     At the banquet were Pictish chiefs and statesmen,
the latter jovial and easy in their manner, the warriors
formally courteous, but plainly hampered by their
tribal affinities. Yet Kull, with a tinge of envy, was
cognizant of the freedom and ease of the affair as
contrasted with like affairs of the Valusian court.
Such freedom prevailed in the rude camps of Atlan-
tis—Kull shrugged his shoulders. After all, doubtless
Ka-nu, who had seemed to have forgotten he was a
Pict as far as time-hoary custom and prejudice went,
was right and he, Kull, would better become a Valu-
sian in mind as in name.
     At last when the moon had reached her zenith,
Ka-nu, having eaten and drunk as much as any three
men there, leaned back upon his divan with a com-
fortable sigh and said, "Now, get you gone, friends,
for the king and I would converse on such matters as
concern not children. Yes, you too, my pretty; yet first
let me kiss those ruby lips—so; no, dance away, my
rose-bloom."
     Ka-nu's eyes twinkled above his white beard as
he surveyed Kull, who sat erect, grim and uncompro-
mising.
     "You are thinking, Kull," said the old statesman,
suddenly, "that Ka-nu is a useless old reprobate, fit
for nothing except to guzzle wine and kiss wenches!"
     In fact, this remark was so much in line with his
actual thoughts, and so plainly put, that Kull was
rather startled, though he gave no sign.
     Ka-nu gurgled and his paunch shook with his
mirth. "Wine is red and women are soft," he remarked
tolerantly. "But—ha! ha!—think not old Ka-nu allows
either to interfere with business."
     Again he laughed, and Kull moved restlessly.


This seemed much like being made sport of, and the
king's scintllant eyes began to glow with a feline
light.
     Ka-nu reached for the wine-pitcher, filled his
beaker and glanced questoningly at Kull, who shook
his head irritably.
     "Aye," said Ka-nu equably, "it takes an old head
to stand strong drink. I am growing old, Kull, so why
should you young men begrudge me such pleasures as
we oldsters must find? Ah me, I grow ancient and
withered, friendless and cheerless."
     But his looks and expressions failed far of bear-
ing out his words. His rubicund countenance fairly
glowed, and his eyes sparkled, so that his white
beard seemed incongruous. Indeed, he looked remark-
ably elfin, reflected Kull, who felt vaguely resentful.
The old scoundrel had lost all of the primitive virtues
of his race and of Kull's race, yet he seemed more
pleased in his aged days than otherwise.
     "Hark ye, Kull," said Ka-nu, raising an admoni-
tory finger, " 'tis a chancy thing to laud a young man,
yet I must speak my true thoughts to gain your confi-
dence."
     "If you think to gain it by flattery—"
     "Tush. Who spake of flattery? I flatter only to
disguard."
     There was a keen sparkle in Ka-nu's eyes, a cold
glimmer that did not match his lazy smile. He knew
men, and he knew that to gain his end he must smite
straight with this tigerish barbarian, who, like a wolf
scenting a snare, would scent out unerringly any false-
ness in the skein of his wordweb.
     "You have power, Kull," said he, choosing his
words with more care than he did in the council
rooms of the nation, "to make yourself mightiest of all
kings, and restore some of the lost glories of Valusia.
So. I care little for Valusia—though the women and
wlne be excellent-save for the fact that the stronger
Valusia is, the stronger is the Pict nation. More, with
an Atlantean on the throne, eventually Atlantis will
become united—"


    Kull laughed in harsh mockery. Ka-nu had
touched an old wound.
    "Atlantis made my name accursed when I went to
seek fame and fortune among the cities of the world.
We—they—are age-old foes of the Seven Empires,
greater foes of the allies of the Empires, as you should
know."
    Ka-nu tugged his beard and smiled enigmatically.
    "Nay, nay. Let it pass. But I know whereof I
speak. And then warfare will cease, wherein there is
no gain; I see a world of peace and prosperity—man
loving his fellow man—the good supreme. All this can
you accomplish— if you live!"
    "Ha!" Kull's lean hand closed on his hilt and he
half rose, with a sudden movement of such dynamic
speed that Ka-nu, who fancied men as some men
fancy blooded horses, felt his old blood leap with a
sudden thrill. Valka, what a warrior! Nerves and sin-
ews of steel and fire, bound together with the per-
fect co-ordination, the fighting instinct, that makes
the terrible warrior.
    But none of Ka-nu's enthusiasm showed in his
mildly sarcastic tone.
    Tush. Be seated. Look about you. The gardens
are deserted, the seats empty, save for ourselves. You
fear not me?"
    Kull sank back, gazing about him warily.
    "There speaks the savage," mused Ka-nu. "Think
you if I planned treachery I would enact it here where
suspicion would be sure to fall upon me? Tut. You
young tribesmen have much to learn. There were my
chiefs who were not at ease because you were born
among the hills of Atlantis, and you despise me in
your secret mind because I am a Pict. Tush. I see you
as Kull, king of Valusia, not as Kull, the reckless At-
lantean, leader of the raiders who harried the western
isles. So you should see in me, not a Pict but an inter-
national man, a figure of the world. Now to that fig-
ure, hark! If you were slain tomorrow who would be
king?"
    "Kaanuub, baron of Blaal."


     "Even so. I object to Kaanuub for many reasons,
yet most of all for the fact that he is but a figure-
head."
     "How so? He was my greatest opponent, but I
did not know that he championed any cause but his
own."
     "The night can hear," answered Ka-nu obliquely.
"There are worlds within worlds. But you may trust
me and you may trust Brule, the Spear-slayer. Look!"
He drew from his robes a bracelet of gold represent-
ing a winged dragon coiled thrice, with three horns of
ruby on the head.
     "Examine it closely. Brule will wear it on his arm
when he comes to you tomorrow night so that you
may know him. Trust Brule as you trust yourself, and
do what he tells you to. And in proof of trust, look
ye!"
     And with the speed of a striking hawk, the an-
cient snatched something from his robes, something
that flung a weird green light over them, and which
he replaced in an instant.
     The stolen gem!" exclaimed Kull recoiling. "The
green jewel from the Temple of the Serpent! Valka!
You! And why do you show it to me?"
     To save your life. To prove my trust. If I betray
your trust, deal with me likewise. You hold my life in
your hand. Now I could not be false to you if I would,
for a word from you would be my doom."
     Yet for all his words the old scoundrel beamed
merrily and seemed vastly pleased with himself.
"But why do you give me this hold over you?"
asked Kull, becoming more bewildered each second.
      As I told you. Now, you see that I do not intend
to deal you false, and tomorrow night when Brule
comes to you, you will follow his advice without fear
of treachery. Enough. An escort waits outside to ride
to the palace with you, lord."
     Kull rose. "But you have told me nothing."
     Tush. How impatient are youths!" Ka-nu looked
more like a mischievous elf than ever. "Go you and


 dream of thrones and power and kingdoms, while I
dream of wine and soft women and roses. And fortune
ride with you, King Kull."
     As he left the garden, Kull glanced back to see
Ka-nu still reclining lazily in his seat, a merry ancient,
beaming on all the world with jovial fellowship.
     A mounted warrior waited for the king Just with-
out the garden and Kull was slightly surprised to see
that it was the same that had brought Ka-nu's invita-
tion. No word was spoken as Kull swung into the sad-
dle nor as they clattered along the empty streets.
     The color and the gayety of the day had given
way to the eerie stillness of night. The city's antiquity
was more than ever apparent beneath the bent, silver
moon. The huge pillars of the mansions and palaces
towered up into the stars. The broad stairways, silent
and deserted, seemed to climb endlessly until they
vanished in the shadowy darkness of the upper
realms. Stairs to the stars, thought Kull, his imagina-
tive mind inspired by the weird grandeur of the scene.
     Clang! clang! clang! sounded the silver hoofs on
the broad, moon-flooded streets, but otherwise there
was no sound. The age of the city, its incredible antiq-
uity, was almost oppressive to the king; it was as if
the great silent buildings laughed at him, noiselessly,
with unguessable mockery. And what secrets did they
hold?
     "You are young," said the palaces and the temples
and the shrines, "but we are old. The world was wild
with youth when we were reared. You and your tribe
shall pass, but we are invincible, indestructible. We
towered above a strange world, ere Atlantis and Le-
muria rose from the sea; we still shall reign when the
green waters sigh for many a restless fathom above
the spires of Lemuria and the hills of Atlantis and
when the isles of the Western Men are the mountains
of a strange land.
     "How many kings have we watched ride down
these streets before Kull of Atlantis was even a dream
in the mind of Ka, bird of Creation? Ride on, Kull of


Atlantis; greater shall follow you; greater came before
you. They are dust; they are forgotten; we stand; we
know; we are. Ride, ride on, Kull of Atlantis; Kull the
king, Kull the fool!"
     And it seemed to Kull that the clashing hoofs
took up the silent refrain to beat it into the night with
hollow re-echoing mockery;
     "Kull-the-king! Kull-the-fool!"
Glow, moon; you light a king's way! Gleam, stars;
you are torches in the train of an emperor! And clang,
silver-shod hoofs; you herald that Kull rides through
Valusia.
     Ho! Awake, Valusia! It is Kull that rides, Kull the
king!
     "We have known many kings," said the silent halls
of Valusia.
     And so in a brooding mood Kull came to the pal-
ace, where his bodyguard, men of the Red Slayers,
came to take the rein of the great stallion and escort
Kull to his rest. There the Pict, still sullenly speech-
less, wheeled his steed with a savage wrench of the
rein and fled away in the dark like a phantom; Kull's
heightened imagination pictured him speeding
through the silent streets like a goblin out of the Elder
World.
     There was no sleep for Kull that night, for it was
nearly dawn and he spent the rest of the night hours
pacing the throne-room, and pondering over what had
passed. Ka-nu had told him nothing, yet he had put
himself in Kull's complete power. At what had he
hinted when he had said the baron of Blaal was
naught but a figurehead? And who was this Brule
who was to come to him by night, wearing the mystic
armlet of the dragon? And why? Above all, why had
Ka-nu shown him the green gem of terror, stolen long
ago from the temple of the Serpent, for which the
world would rock in wars were it known to the weird
and terrible keepers of that temple, and from whose
vengeance not even Ka-nu's ferocious tribesmen might
be able to save him? But Ka-nu knew he was safe,
reflected Kull, for the statesman was too shrewd to


expose himself to risk without profit. But was it to
throw the king off his guard and pave the way to
treachery? Would Ka-nu dare let him live now? Kull
shrugged his shoulders.
3. They That Wolk the Night
The moon had not risen when Kull, hand to hilt,
stepped to a window. The windows opened upon the
great inner gardens of the royal palace, and the
breezes of the night, bearing the scents of spice trees,
blew the filmy curtains about. The king looked out.
The walks and groves were deserted; carefully
trimmed trees were bulky shadows; fountains near by
flung their slender sheen of silver in the starlight and
distant fountains rippled steadily. No guards walked
those gardens, for so closely were the outer walls
guarded that it seemed impossible for any invader to
gain access to them.
     Vines curled up the walls of the palace, and even
as Kull mused upon the ease with which they might
be climbed, a segment of shadow detached itself from
the darkness below the window and a bare, brown
arm curved up over the sill. Kull's great sword hissed
halfway from the sheath; then the King halted. Upon
the muscular forearm gleamed the dragon armlet
shown him by Ka-nu the night before.
     The possessor of the arm pulled himself up over
the sill and into the room with the swift, easy motion
of a climbing leopard.
"You are Brule?" asked Kull, and then stopped in
surprise not unmingled with annoyance and suspicion;
for the man was he whom Kull had taunted in the Hall
of Society; the same who had escorted him from the
Pictish embassy.
     "I am Brule, the Spear-slayer," answered the Pict
in a guarded voice; then swiftly, gazing closely in
Kull's face, he said, barely above a whisper:
"Ka nama kaa lajerama!"


     Kull started. "Ha! What mean you?"
     "Know you not?"
     "Nay, the words are unfamiliar; they are of no
language I ever heard—and yet, by Valka!~some-
where—I have heard—"
     "Aye," was the Pict's only comment. His eyes
swept the room, the study room of the palace. Except
for a few tables, a divan or two and great shelves of
books of parchment, the room was barren compared
to the grandeur of the rest of the palace.
     "Tell me, king, who guards the door?"
     "Eighteen of the Red Slayers. But how come you,
stealing through the gardens by night and scaling the
walls of the palace?"
     Brule sneered. The guards of Valusia are blind
buffaloes. I could steal their girls from under their
noses. I stole amid them and they saw me not nor
heard me. And the walls—I could scale them without
the aid of vines. I have hunted tigers on the foggy
beaches when the sharp east breezes blew the mist in
from seaward and I have climbed the steeps of the
western sea mountain. But come—nay, touch this arm-
let."                             
     He held out his arm and, as Kull complied won-
deringly, gave an apparent sigh of relief.
     "So. Now throw off those kingly robes; for there
are ahead of you this night such deeds as no Atlantean
ever dreamed of."
     Brule himself was clad only in a scanty loin-cloth
through which was thrust a short, curved sword.
     "And who are you to give me orders?" asked Kull,
slightly resentful.
     "Did not Ka-nu bid you follow me in all things?"
asked the Pict irritably, his eyes flashing momentarily.
I have no love for you, lord, but for the moment I
have put the thought of feuds from my mind. Do you
likewise. But come."
     Walking noiselessly, he led the way across the
room to the door. A slide in the door allowed a view
of the outer corridor, unseen from without, and the
Pict bade Kull look


    "What see you?"
    "Naught but the eighteen guardsmen."
    The Pict nodded, motioned Kull to follow him
across the room. At a panel in the opposite wall Brule
stopped and fumbled there a moment. Then with a
light movement he stepped back, drawing his sword
as he did so. Kull gave an exclamation as the panel
swung silently open, revealing a dimly lighted pas-
sageway.
    "A secret passage!" swore Kull softly. "And I
knew nothing or it! By Valka, someone shall dance for
this!"              
"Silence!" hissed the Pict.
     Brule was standing like a bronze statue as if
straining every nerve for the slightest sound; some-
thing about his attitude made Kull's hair prickle
slightly, not from fear but from some eery anticipa-
tion. Then beckoning, Brule stepped through the se-
cret doorway which stood open behind them. The
passage was bare, but not dust-covered as should
have been the case with an unused secret corridor. A
vague, gray light filtered through somewhere, but the
source of it was not apparent. Every few feet Kull saw
doors, invisible, as he knew, from the outside, but eas-
ily apparent from within.
"The palace is a very honeycomb," he muttered.
"Aye. Night and day you are watched, king, by
many eves."
     The king was impressed by Brule's manner. The
Pict went forward slowly, warily, half crouching,
blade held low and thrust forward. When he spoke it
was in a whisper and he continually flung glances
from side to side.
The corridor turned sharply and Brule warily
gazed past the turn.
"Look!" he whispered. "But remember! No word!
No sound—on your life!"
     Kull cautiously gazed past him. The corridor
changed just at the bend to a flight of steps. And then
Kull recoiled. At the foot of those stairs lay the eigh-
teen Red Slayers who were that night stationed to


watch the long's study room. Brule's grip upon his
mighty arm and Brule's fierce whisper at his shoulder
alone kept Kull from leaping down those stairs.
     "Silent, Kull! Silent, in Valka's name!" hissed the
Pict. "These corridors are empty now, but I risked
much in showing you, that you might then believe
what I had to say. Back now to the room of study."
And he retraced his steps, Kull following; his mind in
a turmoil of bewilderment,
     'This is treachery," muttered the long, his steel-
gray eyes a-smolder, "foul and swift! Mere minutes
have passed since those men stood at guard."
     Again in the room of study Brule carefully closed
the secret panel and motioned Kull to look again
through the slit of the outer door. Kull gasped audi-
bly. For without stood the eighteen guardsmen!
     "This is sorcery!" he whispered, half-drawing his
sword. "Do dead men guard the long?"
     "Aye!" came Brule's scarcely audible reply; there
was a strange expression in the Pick's scuitillant eyes.
They looked squarely into each other's eyes for an in-
stant, Kull's brow wrinkled in a puzzled scowl as he
strove to read the Pict's inscrutable face. Then Brule's
lips, barely moving, formed the words;
     "The-snake—that-speaks!".
     "Silent!" whispered Kull, laying his hand over
Brule's mouth. "That is death to speak! That is a name
accursed!"
     The Pict's fearless eyes regarded him steadily.
     "Look, again. King Kull. Perchance the guard was
changed."
      Nay, those are the same men. In Valka's name,
this is sorcery—this is insanity! I saw with my own
eyes the bodies of those men, not eight minutes agone.
Yet there they stand."
     Brule stepped back, away from the door, Kull
mechanically following.
     "Kull, what know ye of the traditions of this race
ye rule?"
"Much—and yet, little. Valusia is so old—"
"Aye," Brule's eyes lighted strangely, "we are but


barbarians—infants compared to the Seven Empires.
Not even they themselves know how old they are.
Neither the memory of man nor the annals of the his-
torians reach back far enough to tell us when the first
men came up from the sea and built cities on the
shore. But Kull, men were not always ruled by men!"
The king started. Their eyes met.
"Aye, there is a legend of my people—"
"And mine!" broke in Brule. "That was before we
of the isles were allied with Valusia. Aye, in the reign
of Lion-fang, seventh war chief of the Picts, so many
years ago no man remembers how many. Across the
sea we came, from the isles of the sunset, skirting the
shores of Atlantis, and falling upon the beaches of
Valusia with fire and sword. Aye, the long white
beaches resounded with the clash of spears, and the
night was like day from the flame of the burning cas-
tles. And the king, the king of Valusia, who died on
the red sea sands that dim day—" His voice trailed
off; the two stared at each other, neither speaking;
then each nodded.
     "Ancient is Valusia!" whispered Kull. "The hills of
Atlantis and Mu were isles of the sea when Valusia
was young."
The night breeze whispered through the open
window. Not the free, crisp sea air such as Brule and
Kull knew and reveled in, in their land, but a breath
like a whisper from the past, laden with musk, scents
of forgotten things, breathing secrets that were hoary
when the world was young.
The tapestries rustled, and suddenly Kull felt like
a naked child before the inscrutable wisdom of the
mystic past. Again the sense of unreality swept upon
him. At the back of his soul stole dim, gigantic phan-
toms, whispering monstrous things. He sensed that
Brule experienced similar thoughts. The Pict's eyes
were fixed upon his face with a fierce intensity. Their
glances met. Kull felt warmly a sense of comradeship
with this member of an enemy tribe. Like rival leop-
ards turning at bay against hunters, these two savages


made common cause against the inhuman powers of
antiquity.
     Brule again led the way back to the secret door.
Silently they entered and silently they proceeded
down the dim corridor, taking the opposite direction
from that in which they previously traversed it. After
a while the Pict stopped and pressed close to one of
the secret doors, bidding Kull look with him through
the hidden slot.
     "This opens upon a little-used stair which leads to
a corridor running past the study-room door."
     They gazed, and presently, mounting the stair si-
lently, came a silent shape.
     "Tu! Chief councilor!" exclaimed Kull. "By night
and with bared dagger! How, what means this,
Brule?"
     "Murder! And foulest treachery!" hissed Brule.
"Nay"—as Kull would have flung the door aside and
leaped forth—"we are lost if you meet him here, for
more lurk at the foot of those stairs. Come!" .
     Half running, they darted back along the passage.
Back through the secret door Brule led, shutting it
carefully behind them, then across the chamber to an
opening into a room seldom used. There he swept
aside some tapestries in a dim corner nook and, draw-
ing Kull with him, stepped behind them. Minutes
dragged. Kull could hear the breeze in the other room
blowing the window curtains about, and it seemed to
him like the murmur of ghosts. Then through the door,
stealthily, came Tu, chief councilor of the king. Evi-
dently he had come through the study room and, find-
ing it empty, sought his victim where he was most
likely to be.
He came with upraised dagger, walking silently.
A moment he halted, gazing about the apparently
empty room, which was lighted dimly by a single can-
dle. Then he advanced cautiously, apparently at a loss
to understand the absence of the king. He stood be-
fore the hiding place-and-
"Slay!" hissed the Pict.


     Kull with a single mighty leap hurled himself into
the room. Tu spun, but the blinding, tigerish speed of
the attack gave him no chance for defense or counter-
attack. Sword steel flashed in the dim light and grated
on bone as Tu toppled backward, Kull's sword stand-
ing out between his shoulders.
     Kull leaned above him, teeth bared in the killer's
snarl, heavy brows ascowl above eyes that were like
the gray ice of the cold sea. Then he released the hilt
and recoiled, shaken, dizzy, the hand of death at his
spine.
For as he watched, Tu's face became strangely
dim and unreal; the features mingled and merged in a
seemingly impossible manner. Then, like a fading
mask of fog, the face suddenly vanished and in its
stead gaped and leered a monstrous serpent's head!
"Valka!" gasped Kull, sweat beading his forehead,
and again; "Valka!"
     Brule leaned forward, face immobile. Yet his glit-
tering eyes mirrored something of Kull's horror.
Regain your sword, lord king," said he. "There
are yet deeds to be done."
     Hesitantly Kull set his hand to the hilt. His flesh
crawled as he set his foot upon the terror which lay at
their feet, and as some jerk of muscular reaction
caused the frightful mouth to gape suddenly, he re-
coiled, weak with nausea. Then, wrathful at himself,
he plucked forth his sword and gazed more closely at
the nameless thing that had been known as Tu, chief
councilor. Save for the reptilian head, the thing was
the exact counterpart of a man.
     "A man with the head of a snake!" Kull mur-
mured. "This, then, is a priest of the serpent god?"
     "Aye. Tu sleeps unknowing. These fiends can
take any form they will. That is, they can, by a magic
charm or the like, fling a web of sorcery about their
faces, as an actor dons a mask, so that they resemble
anyone they wish to."
     "Then the old legends were true," mused the
king; "the grim old tales few dare even whisper, lest
they die as blasphemers, are no fantasies. By Valka, I


had thought—1 had guessed—but it seems beyond the
bounds of reality. Ha! The guardsmen outside the
door—"
     "They too are snake-men. Hold! What would you
do?"
     "Slay them!" said Kull between his teeth.
     "Strike at the skull if at all," said Brule. "Eighteen
wait without the door and perhaps a score more in the
corridors. Hark ye, king, Ka-nu learned of this plot.
His spies have pierced the inmost fastnesses of the
snake priests and they brought hints of a plot. Long
ago he discovered the secret passageways of the pal-
ace, and at his command I studied the map thereof
and came here by night to aid you, lest you die as
other kings of Valusia have died. I came alone for the
reason that to send more would have roused suspicion.
Many could not steal into the palace as I did. Some of
the foul conspiracy you have seen. Snake-men guard
your door, and that one, as Tu, could pass anywhere
else in the palace; in the morning, if the priests failed,
the real guards would be holding their places again,
nothing knowing, nothing remembering; there to take
the blame if the priests succeeded. But stay you here
while I dispose of this carrion."
     So saying, the Pict shouldered the frightful thing
stolidly and vanished with it through another secret
panel. Kull stood alone, his mind a-whirl. Neophytes
of the mighty serpent, how many lurked among his
cities? How might he tell the false from the true? Aye,
how many of his trusted councilors, his generals, were
men? He could be certain—of whom?
     The secret panel swung inward and Brule en-
tered.
     "You were swift."
     "Aye!" The warrior stepped forward, eyeing the
floor. "There is gore upon the rug. See?"
     Kull bent forward; from the corner of his eye he
saw a blur of movement, a glint of steel. Like a loos-
ened bow he whipped erect, thrusting upward. The
warrior sagged upon the sword, his own clattering to


the floor. Even at that instant Kull reflected grimly
that it was appropriate that the traitor should meet his
death upon the sliding, upward thrust used so much
by his race. Then, as Brule slid from the sword to
sprawl motionless on the floor, the face began to
merge and fade, and as Kull caught his breath, his
hair a-prickle, the human features vanished and there
the jaws of a great snake gaped hideously, the terrible
beady eyes venomous even in death.
     He was a snake priest all the time!" gasped the
king. "Valka! What an elaborate plan to throw me off
my guard! Ka-nu there, is he a man? Was it Ka-nu to
whom I talked in the gardens? Almighty Valka!" as his
flesh crawled with a horrid thought; are the people
of Valusia men or are they all serpents?"
     Undecided he stood, idly seeing that the thing
named Brule no longer wore the dragon armlet. A
sound made him wheel.
     Brute was coming through the secret door.
     "Hold!" Upon the arm upthrown to halt the king's
hovering sword gleamed the dragon armlet. "Valka!"
The Pict stopped short. Then a grim smile curled his
lips.
     "By the gods of the seas! These demons are crafty
past reckoning. For it must be that one lurked in the
corridors, and seeing me go carrying the carcass of
that other, took my appearance. So. I have another to
do away with."
     "Hold!" there was the menace of death in Kull's
voice; "I have seen two men turn to serpents before
my eyes. How may I know if you are a true man?"
     Brule laughed. "For two reasons. King Kull. No
snake-man wears this"—he indicated the dragon arm-
let—"nor can any say these words," and again Kull
heard the strange phrase; "Ka nama kaa lajerama."
     "Ka nama kaa lajerama" Kull repeated mechani-
cally. "Now, where, in Valka's name, have I heard
that? I have not! And yet-and yet—"
     "Aye, you remember, Kull," said Brule. Through
the dim corridors of memory those words lurk; though
you never heard them in this life, yet in the bygone


ages they were so terribly impressed upon the soul
mind that never dies, that they will always strike dim
chords in your memory, though you be reincarnated
for a million years to come. For that phrase has come
secretly down the grim and bloody eons, since when,
uncounted centuries ago, those words were watch-
words for the race of men who battled with the grisly
beings of the Elder Universe. For none but a real man
of men may speak them, whose jaws and mouth are
shaped different from any other creature. Their mean-
ing has been forgotten but not the words themselves."
     "True," said Kull. "I remember the legends—
Valka!" He stopped short, staring, for suddenly, like
the silent swinging wide of a mystic door, misty, un-
fathomed reaches opened in the recesses of his con-
sciousness and for an instant he seemed to gaze back
through the vastness that spanned life and life;
seeing through the vague and ghostly fogs dim shapes
reliving dead centuries—men in combat with hideous
monsters, vanquishing a planet of frightful terrors.
Against a gray, ever-shifting background moved
strange nightmare forms, fantasies of lunacy and fear;
and man, the jest of the gods, the blind, wisdom-less
striver from dust to dust, following the long bloody
trail of his destiny, knowing not why, bestial, blunder-
ing, like a great murderous child, yet feeling some-
where a spark of divine fire. . . . Kull drew a hand
across his brow, shaken; these sudden glimpses into
the abysses of memory always startled him.
     "They are gone," said Brule, as if scanning his se-
cret mind; "the bird-women, the harpies, the bat-men,
the flying fiends, the wolf-people, the demons, the
goblins—all save such as this being that lies at our
feet, and a few of the wolf-men. Long and terrible
was the war, lasting through the bloody centuries,
since first the first men, risen from the mire of ape-
dom, turned upon those who then ruled the world.
 And at last mankind conquered, so long ago that
naught but dim legends come to us through the ages.
The snake-people were the last to go, yet at last men
conquered even them and drove them forth into the


waste lands of the world, there to mate with true
snakes until some day, say the sages, the horrid breed
shall vanish utterly. Yet the Things returned in crafty
guise as men grew soft and degenerate, forgetting an-
cient wars. Ah, that was a grim and secret war!
Among the men of the Younger Earth stole the fright-
ful monsters of the Elder Planet, safeguarded by their
horrid wisdom and mysticisms, taking all forms and
shapes, doing deeds of horror secretly. No man knew
who was true man and who false. No man could trust
any man. Yet by means of their own craft they formed
ways by which the false might be known from the
true. Men took for a sign and a standard the figure of
the flying dragon, the winged dinosaur, a monster of
past ages, which was the greatest foe of the serpent.
And men used those words which I spoke to you as a
sign and symbol, for as I said, none but a true man
can repeat them. So mankind triumphed. Yet again
the fiends came after the years of forgetfulness had
gone by—for man is still an ape in that he forgets
what is not ever before his eyes. As priests they came;
and for that men in their luxury and might had by
then lost faith in the old religions and worships, the
snake-men, in the guise of teachers of a new and truer
cult, built a monstrous religion about the worship of
the serpent god. Such is their power that it is now death
to repeat the old legends of the snake-people, and peo-
ple bow again to the serpent god in new form; and
blind fools that they are, the great hosts of men see no
connection between this power and the power men
overthrew eons ago. As priests the snake-men are con-
tent to rule—and yet—" He stopped.
     "Go on." Kull felt an unaccountable stirring of the
short hair at the base of his scalp.
     "Kings have reigned as true men in Valusia," the
Pict whispered, "and yet, slain in battle, have died ser-
pents—as died he who fell beneath the spear of Lion-
fang on the red beaches when we of the isles harried
the Seven Empires. And how can this be. Lord Kull?
These kings were born of women and lived as men!
This—the true kings died in secret—as you would have


died tonight—and priests of the Serpent reigned in
their stead, no man knowing."
    Kull cursed between his teeth. "Aye, it must be.
No one has ever seen a priest of the Serpent and lived,
that is known. They live in utmost secrecy."
    The statecraft of the Seven Empires is a mazy,
monstrous thing," said Brule. "There the true men
know that among them glide the spies of the Serpent,
and the men who are the Serpent's allies—such as
Kaanuub, baron of Blaal—yet no man dares seek to
unmask a suspect lest vengeance befall him. No man
trusts his fellow and the true statesmen dare not speak
to each other what is in the minds of all. Could they
be sure, could a snake-man or plot be unmasked before
them all, then would the power of the Serpent be
more than half broken; for all would then ally and
make common cause, sifting out the traitors. Ka-nu
alone is of sufficient shrewdness and courage to cope
with them, and even Ka-nu learned only enough of
their plot to tell me what would happen—what has hap-
pened up to this time. Thus far I was prepared; from
now on we must trust to our luck and our craft. Here
and now I think we are safe; those snake-men without
the door dare not leave their post lest true men come
here unexpectedly. But tomorrow they will try some-
thing else, you may be sure. Just what they will do,
none can say, not even Ka-nu; but we must stay at
each other's sides. King Kull, until we conquer or both
be dead. Now come with me while I take this carcass
to the hiding-place where I took the other being."
    Kull followed the Pict with his grisly burden
through the secret panel and down the dim corridor.
Their feet, trained to the silence of the wilderness,
made no noise. Like phantoms they glided through
the ghostly light, Kull wondering that the corridors
should be deserted; at every turn he expected to run
full upon some frightful apparition. Suspicion surged
back upon him; was this Pict leading him into am-
bush? He fell back a pace or two behind Brule, his
ready sword hovering at the Pict's unheeding back.
Brule should die first if he meant treachery. But if the


Pict was aware of the king's suspicion, he showed no
sign. Stolidly he tramped along, until they came to a
room, dusty and long unused, where moldy tapestries
hung heavy. Brule drew aside some of these and con-
cealed the corpse behind them.
     Then they turned to retrace their steps, when
suddenly Brule halted with such abruptness that he
was closer to death than he knew; for Kull's nerves
were on edge.
     "Something moving in the corridor," hissed the
Pict. "Ka-nu said these ways would be empty, yet—"
     He drew his sword and stole into the corridor,
Kull following warily.
     A short way down the corridor a strange, vague
glow appeared that came toward them. Nerves a-leap,
they waited, backs to the corridor wall; for what they
knew not, but Kull heard Brule's breath hiss through
his teeth and was reassured as to Brule's loyalty.
     The glow merged into a shadowy form. A shape
vaguely like a man it was, but misty and illusive, like
a wisp of fog, that grew more tangible as it ap-
proached, but never fully material A face looked at
them, a pair of luminous great eyes, that seemed to
hold all me tortures of a million centuries. There was
no menace in that face, with its dim, worn features,
but only a great pity—and that face—that face—
     "Almighty gods!" breathed Kull, an icy hand at
his soul; "Eallal, king of Valusia, who died a thousand
years ago!"
     Brule shrank back as far as he could, his narrow
eyes widened in a blaze of pure horror, the sword
shaking in his grip, unnerved for the first time that
weird night. Erect and defiant stood Kull, instinc-
tively holdng his useless sword at the ready; flesh a-
crawl, hair a-prickle, yet still a king of kings, as ready
to challenge the powers of the unknown dead as the
powers of the living.
     The phantom came straight on, giving them no
heed; Kull shrank back as it passed them, feeling an
icy breath like a breeze from the arctic snow. Straight
on went the shape with slow, silent footsteps, as if the


chains of all the ages were upon those vague feet;
vanishing about a bend of the corridor.
     "Valka!" muttered the Pict, wiping the cold beads
from his brow; "that was no man! That was a ghost!"
     "Aye!" Kull shook his head wonderingly. "Did
you not recognize the face? That was Eallal, who
reigned in Valusia a thousand years ago and who was
found hideously murdered in his throne-room—the
room now known as the Accursed Room. Have you
not seen his statue in the Fame Room of Kings?"
     "Yes, I remember the tale now. Gods, Kull! that is
another sign of the frightful and foul power of the
snake priests—that king was slain by snake-people and
thus his soul became their slave, to do their bidding
throughout eternity! For the sages have ever main-
tained that if a man is slain by a snake-man his ghost
becomes their slave."
     A shudder shook Kull's gigantic frame. "Valka!
But what a fate! Hark ye"—his fingers closed upon
Brule's sinewy arm like steel—"hark ye! If I am
wounded unto death by these foul monsters, swear
that ye will smite your sword through my breast lest
my soul be enslaved."
     "I swear," answered Brule, his fierce eyes light-
ing. "And do ye the same by me, Kull."
     Their strong right hands met in a silent sealing of
their bloody bargain.
                      4. Masks
      Kull sat upon his throne and gazed broodily out
upon the sea of faces turned toward him. A courtier
was speaking in evenly modulated tones, but the king
scarcely heard him. Close by, Tu, chief councilor,
stood ready at Kull's command, and each time the
king looked at him, Kull shuddered inwardly. The sur-
face of court life was as the unrippled surface of the
sea between tide and tide. To the musing king the af-
fairs of the night before seemed as a dream, until his


eyes dropped to the arm of his throne. A brown, sin-
ewy hand rested there, upon the wrist of which
gleamed a dragon armlet; Brule stood beside his
throne and ever the Pict's fierce secret whisper
brought him back from the realm of unreality in
which he moved.
     No, that was no dream, that monstrous interlude.
As he sat upon his throne in the Hall of Society and
gazed upon the courtiers, the ladies, the lords, the
statesmen, he seemed to see their faces as things of
illusion, things unreal, existent only as shadows and
mockeries of substance. Always he had seen their
faces as masks, but before he had looked on them
with contemptuous tolerance, thinking to see beneath
the masks shallow, puny souls, avaricious, lustful, de-
ceitful; now there was a grim undertone, a sinister
meaning, a vague horror that lurked beneath the
smooth masks. While he exchanged courtesies with
some nobleman or councilor he seemed to see the
smiling face fade like smoke and the frightful jaws of
a serpent gaping there. How many of those he looked
upon were horrid, inhuman monsters, plotting his
death, beneath the smooth mesmeric illusion of a hu-
man face?
     Valusia—land of dreams and nightmares—a king-
dom of the shadows, ruled by phantoms who glided
back and forth behind the painted curtains, mocking
the futile king who sat upon the throne—himself a
shadow.
     And like a comrade shadow Brule stood by his
side, dark eyes glittering from immobile face. A real
man, Brule! And Kull felt his friendship for the savage
become a thing of reality and sensed that Brule felt a
friendship for him beyond the mere necessity of state-
craft.
     And what, mused Kull, were the realities of life?
Ambition, power, pride? The friendship of man, the
love of women—which Kull had never known—battle,
plunder, what? Was it the real Kull who sat upon the
throne or was it the real Kull who had scaled the hills
of Atlantis, harried the far isles of the sunset, and


laughed upon the green roaring tides of the Atlantean
sea? How could a man be so many different men in a
lifetime? For Kull knew that there were many Kulls
and he wondered which was the real Kull. After all,
the priests of the Serpent went a step further in their
magic, for all men wore masks, and many a different
mask with each different man or woman; and Kull
wondered if a serpent did not lurk under every mask.
     So he sat and brooded in strange, mazy thought
ways, and the courtiers came and went and the minor
affairs of the day were completed, until at last the
king and Brule sat alone in the Hall of Society save
for the drowsy attendants.
     Kull felt a weariness. Neither he nor Brule had
slept the night before, nor had Kull slept the night
before that, when in the gardens of Ka-nu he had had
his first hint of the weird things to be. Last night
nothing further had occurred after they had returned
to the study room from the secret corridors, but they
had neither dared nor cared to sleep. Kull, with the
incredible vitality of a wolf, had aforetime gone for
days upon days without sleep, in his wild savage days
but now his mind was edged from constant thinking
and from the nerve-breaking eeriness of the past night.
He needed sleep, but sleep was furthest from his
mind.
     And he would not have dared sleep if he had
thought of it. Another thing that had shaken him was
the fact that though he and Brule had kept a close
watch to see if, or when, the study-room guard was
changed, yet it was changed without their knowledge;
for the next morning those who stood on guard were
able to repeat the magic words of Brule, but they re-
membered nothing out of the ordinary. They thought
that they had stood at guard all night, as usual, and
Kull said nothing to the contrary. He believed them
true men, but Brule had advised absolute secrecy, and
Kull also thought it best.
     Now Brule leaned over the throne, lowering his
voice so not even a lazy attendant could hear: "They
will strike soon, I think, Kull. A while ago Ka-nu gave


me a secret sign. The priests know that we know of
their plot, of course, but they know not, how much we
know. We must be ready for any sort of action. Ka-nu
and the Pictish chiefs will remain within hailing dis-
tance now until this is settled one way or another. Ha,
Kull, if it comes to a pitched battle, the streets and
the castles of Valusia will run red!"
     Kull smiled grimly. He would greet any sort of
action with a ferocious joy. This wandering in a laby-
rinth of illusion and magic was extremely irksome to
his nature. He longed for the leap and clang of
swords, for the joyous freedom of battle.
     Then into the Hall of Society came Tu again, and
the rest of the councilors.
     "Lord king, the hour of the council is at hand and
we stand ready to escort you to the council room."
     Kull rose, and the councilors bent the knee as he
passed through the way opened by them for his pas-
sage, rising behind him, and following. Eyebrows
were raised as the Pict strode defiantly behind the
king, but no one dissented. Brule's challenging gaze
swept the smooth faces of the councilors with the de-
fiance of an intruding savage.
     The group passed through the halls and came at
last to the council chamber. The door was closed, as
usual, and the councilors arranged themselves in the
order of their rank before the dais upon which stood
the king. Like a bronze statue Brule took up his stand
behind Kull.
     Kull swept the room with a swift stare. Surely no
chance of treachery here. Seventeen councilors there
were, all known to him; all of them had espoused his
cause when he ascended the throne.
     "Men of Valusia—" he began in the conventional
manner, then halted, perplexed. The councilors had
risen as a man and were moving toward him. There
was no hostility in their looks, but their actions were
strange for a council room. The foremost was close to
him when Brule sprang forward, crouched like a leop-
ard.
     "Ka. nama. kaa lajerama!" his voice crackled


through the sinister silence of the room and the fore-
most councilor recoiled, hand flashing to his robes;
and like a spring released, Brule moved and the man
pitched headlong and lay still while his face faded and be-
came the head of a mighty snake.
     "Slay, Kull!" rasped 'the Pict's voice. "They be all
serpent men!"
     The rest was a scarlet maze. Kull saw the familiar
faces dim like fading fog and in their places gaped
horrid reptilian visages as the whole band rushed for-
ward. His mind was dazed but his giant body faltered
not.
     The singing of his sword filled the room, and the
onrushing flood broke in a red wave. But they surged
forward again, seemingly willing to fling their lives
away in order to drag down the king. Hideous jaws
gaped at him; terrible eyes blazed into his unblink-
ingly; a frightful fetid scent pervaded the atmo-
sphere—the serpent scent that Kull had known in
southern jungles. Swords and daggers leaped at him
and he was dimly aware that they wounded him. But
Kull was in his element; never before had he faced
such grim foes but it mattered little; they lived, their
veins held blood that could be spilt and they died
when his great sword cleft their skulls or drove
through their bodies. Slash, thrust, thrust and swing.
Yet had Kull died there but for the man who crouched
at his side, parrying and thrusting. For the king was
clear berserk, fighting in the terrible Atlantean way,
that seeks death to deal death; he made no effort to
avoid thrusts and slashes, standing straight up and
ever plunging forward, no thought in his frenzied
mind but to slay. Not often did Kull forget his fight-
ing craft in his primitive fury, but now some chain
had broken in his soul, flooding his mind with a red
wave of slaughter-lust. He slew a foe at each blow,
but they surged about him, and time and again Brule
turned a thrust that would have slain, as he crouched
beside KulL, parrying and warding with cold skill,


slaying not as Kull slew with long slashes and plunges,
but with short overhand blows and upward thrusts.
     Kull laughed, a laugh of insanity. The frightful
faces swirled about him in a scarlet blaze. He felt
steel sink into his arm and dropped his sword in a
flashing arc that cleft his foe to the breast-bone. Then
the mists faded and the king saw that he and Brule
stood alone above a sprawl of hideous crimson figures
who lay still upon the floor.
     "Valka! what a killing!" said Brule, shaking the
blood from his eyes. "Kull, had these been warriors
who knew how to use the steel, we had died here.
These serpent priests know naught of swordcraft and
die easier than any men I ever slew. Yet had there
been a few more, I think the matter had ended other-
wise."
     Kull nodded. The wild berserker blaze had
passed, leaving a mazed feeling of great weariness.
Blood seeped from wounds on breast, shoulder, arm
and leg. Brule, himself bleeding from a score of flesh
wounds, glanced at him in some concern.
     "Lord Kull, let us hasten to have your wounds
dressed by the women."
     Kull thrust him aside with a drunken sweep of his
mighty arm.
     "Nay, we'll see this through ere we cease. Go you,
though, and have your wounds seen to—I command
it."
     The Pict laughed grimly. "Your wounds are more
than mine, lord king—' he began, then stopped as a
sudden thought struck him. "By Valka, Kull, this is not
the council room!"
     Kull looked about and suddenly other fogs
seemed to fade. "Nay, this is the room where Eallal
died a thousand years ago—since unused and named
'Accursed.'"
     "Then by the gods, they tricked us after all!" ex-
claimed Brule in a fury, kicking the corpses at their
feet. "They caused us to walk like fools into their am-
bush! By their magic they changed the appearance of
all—"


     "Then there is further deviltry afoot." said Kull,
"for if there be true men in the councils of Valusia
they should be in the real council room now. Come
swiftly."
     And leaving the room with its ghastly keepers
they hastened througth halls that seemed deserted un-
til they came to the real council room. Then Kull
halted with a ghastly shudder. From the council room
sounded a voice speaking, and. the voice was his!
     With a hand that shook he parted the tapestries
and gazed into the room. There sat the councilors,
counterparts of the men he and Brule had just slain,
and upon the dais stood Kull, king of Valusia..
     He stepped back, his mind reeling.
     "This is insanity!" he whispered. "Am I Kull? Do
I stand here or is that Kull yonder in very truth, arid
am I but a shadow, a figment of thought?"
     Brule's hand clutching his shoulder, shaking him
fiercely, brought him to his senses.
     "Valka's name, be not a fool! Can you yet be as-
tounded after all we have seen? See you not that those
are true men bewitched by a snake-man who has
taken your form, as those others took their forms? By
now you should have been slain, and yon monster
reigning in your stead, unknown by those who bowed
to you. Leap arid slay swiftly or else we are undone.
The Red Slayers, true men, stand close on each hand
and none but you can reach and slay him. Be swift!"
     Kull shook off the onrushing dizziness, flung
back his head in the old, defiant gesture. He took a
long, deep breath as does a strong swimmer before
diving into the sea; then, sweeping back the tapes-
tries, made the dais in a single lion-like bound. Brule
had spoken truly. There stood men of the Red Slavers,
guardsmen trained to move quick as the striking; leop-
ard; any but Kull had died ere he could reach the
usurper. But the sight of Kull, identical with the man
upon the dais, held them in their tracks, their rninds
stunned for an instant, and that was long enough. He
upon the dais snatchcd for his sword. but even as his


fingers closed upon the hilt, Kull's sword stood out
behind his shoulders and the thing that men had
thought the king pitched forward from the dais to lie
silent upon the floor.
     "Hold!" Kull's lifted hand and kingly voice
stopped the rush that had started, and while they
stood astounded he pointed to the thing which lay be-
fore them—whose face was fading into that of a snake.
They recoiled, and from one door came Brule and
from another came Ka-nu.
     These grasped the king's bloody hand and Ka-nu
spoke: "Men of Valusia, you have seen with your own
eyes. This is the true Kull, the mightiest king to whom
Valusia has ever bowed. The power of the Serpent is
broken and ye be all true men. King Kull, have you
commands?"
     "Lift that carrion," said Kull, and men of the
guard took up the thing.
     "Now follow me," said the king, and he made his
way to the Accursed Room. Brule, with a look of con-
cern, offered the support of his arm but Kull shook
him off.
     The distance seemed endless to the bleeding
king, but at last he stood at the door and laughed
fiercely and grimly when he heard the horrified ejac-
ulations of the councilors.
     At his orders the guardsmen flung the corpse
they carried beside the others, and motioning all from
the room Kull stepped out last and closed the door.
     A wave of dizziness left him shaken. The faces
turned to him, pallid and wonderingly, swirled and
mingled in a ghostly fog. He felt the blood from his
wound trickling down his limbs and he knew that
what he was to do, he must do quickly or not at all.
     His sword rasped from its sheath.
     "Brule, are you there?"
     "Aye!" Brule's face looked at him through the
mist, close to his shoulder, but Brule's voice sounded
leagues and eons away.
     "Remember our vow, Brule. And now, bid them
stand back."


     His left arm cleared a space as he flung up his
sword. Then with all his waning power he drove it
through the door into the jamb, driving the great
sword to the hilt and sealing the room forever.
     Legs braced wide, he swayed drunkenly, facing
the horrified councilors. "Let this room be doubly ac-
cursed. And let those rotting skeletons lie there for-
ever as a sign of the dying might of the Serpent. Here
I swear that I shall hunt the serpent-men from land to
land, from sea to sea, giving no rest until all be slain,
that good triumph and the power of Hell be broken.
This thing I swear—I—Kull—king—of—Valusia."
     His knees buckled as the faces swayed and
swirled. The councilors leaped forward, but ere they
could reach him, Kull slumped to the floor, and lay
still, face upward.
     The councilors surged about the fallen king, chat-
tering and shrieking. Ka-nu beat them back with his
clenched fists, cursing savagely.
     "Back, you fools! Would you stifle the little life
that is yet in him? How, Brule, is he dead or will he
live?"—to the warrior who bent above the prostrate
Kull.
     "Dead?" sneered Brule irritably. "Such a man as
this is not so easily killed. Lack of sleep and loss of
blood have weakened him—by Valka, he has a score
of deep wounds, but none of them mortal. Yet have
those gibbering fools bring the court women here at
once."
     Brule's eyes lighted with a fierce, proud light.
     "Valka, Ka-nu, but here is such a man as I knew
not existed in these degenerate days. He will be in the
saddle in a few scant days and then may the serpent-
men of the world beware of Kull of Valusia. Valka!
but that will be a rare hunt! Ah, I see long years of
prosperity for the world with such a king upon the
throne of Valusia."


The Altar and The Scorpion
     "God of the crawling darkness, grant me aid!"
     A slim youth knelt in the gloom, his white body
shimmering like ivory. The polished marble floor was
cold to his knees, but his heart was colder than the
stone.
     High above him, merged into the masking shad-
ows, loomed the great lapis lazuli ceiling, upheld by
marble walls. Before him glimmered a golden altar,
and on this altar shone a huge crystal image; a scor-
pion, wrought with a craft surpassing mere art.
     "Great Scorpion," the youth continued his invoca-
tion, "aid thy worshipper! Thou knowest how in by-
gone days Gonra of the Sword, my greatest ancestor,
died before thy shrine on a heap of slain barbarians
who sought to defile thy holiness. Through the
mouths of thy priests, thou promised aid to Gonra's
race for all the years to come.
     "Great Scorpion! Never has man or woman of my
blood before reminded thee of thy vow. But now in
my hour of bitter need I come before thee, to abjure
thee to remember that oath, by the blood drunk by
Gonra's blade, by the blood spilled from Gonra's
veins!
     "Great Scorpion! Thuron, high priest of The
Black Shadow, is my enemy. Kull, king of all Valusia,
rides from his purple-spired city to smite with fire


and steel the priests who have defied him and still
offer human sacrifice to the dark elder gods. But be-
fore the king may arrive and save us, I, and the girl I
love, shall lie stark on the black altar in the Temple of
Everlasting Darkness. Thuron has sworn! He will give
our bodies to ancient and abhorred abominations,
and, at last, our souls to the god that lurks forever in
The Black Shadow.
     "Kull sits high on the throne of Valusia and now
rides to our aid, but Thuron rules this mountain city
and even now follows me. Great Scorpion, aid us! Re-
member Gonra, who gave up his life for you when the
Atlantean savages carried the torch and sword into
Valusia."
     The boy's slender form drooped, his head sank on
his bosom despairingly. The great shimmering image
on the altar gave back an icy sheen in the dim light,
and no sign came to its worshipper to show that the
curious god had heard that passionate invocation.
     Suddenly the youth started erect. Quick footfalls
throbbed on the long wide steps outside the temple. A
girl darted into the shadowed doorway like a white
flame blown before the wind.
     "Thuron—he comes!" she gasped as she flew into
her lover's arms.
     The boy's face went pale, and his embrace tight-
ened as he gazed apprehensively at the doorway.
Footfalls, heavy and sinister, clashed on the marble,
and a shape of menace loomed in the opening.
     Thuron, the high priest, was a tall, gaunt man, a
cadaverous giant. His eves glimmered like fiery pools
under his heavy brows, and his thin gash of a mouth
gaped in a silent laugh. His only garment was a silken
loincloth, through which was thrust a cruel curved
dagger, and he carried a short, heavy whip in his lean,
powerful hand-
     His two victims clung to each other and gazed
wide-eyed at their foe, as birds stare at a serpent. And
Thuron's slow, swaying stride as he advanced was not
unlike the sinuous glide of a crawling snake.


     "Thuron, have a care!" the youth spoke bravely,
but his voice faltered from the terror that gripped
him. "If you have no fear of the king or pity for us,
beware offending the Great Scorpion, under whose
protection we are."
     Thuron laughed in his might and arrogance.
     The king!" he jeered. "What means the king to
me, who am mightier than any king? The Great Scor-
pion? Ho! ho! A forgotten god, a deity remembered
only by children and women. Would you pit your
Scorpion against The Black Shadow? Fool! Valka him-
self, god of all gods, could not save you now! You are
sworn to the god of The Black Shadow."
     He swept toward the cowering youngsters and
gripped their white shoulders, sinking his talon-like
nails deep into the soft flesh. They sought to resist,
but he laughed and with incredible strength lifted
them in the air, where he dangled them at arm's
length as a man might dangle a baby. His grating,
metallic laughter filled the room with echoes of evil
mockery.
     Holding the youth between his knees, he bound
the girl hand and foot while she whimpered in his
cruel clutch; then, flinging her roughly to the floor,
he bound the youth likewise. Stepping back, he sur-
veyed his work. The girl's frightened sobs sounded
quick and panting in the silence. At last the high
priest spoke.
     "Fools, to think to escape me! Always men of
your blood, boy, have opposed me in council and
court. Now you pay, and The Black Shadow drinks.
Ho! ho! I rule the city today, let he be king who may!
     "My priests throng the streets, full armed, and no
man dare say me nay. Were the king in the saddle this
moment, he could not arrive and break my swordsmen
in time to save you."
     His eyes roved about the temple and fell upon
the golden altar and the silent crystal scorpion.
     "Ho! ho! What fools to pin your faith on a god
whom men have long ceased to worship! Who has not
even a priest to attend him, and who is granted a


shrine only because of the memory of his former
greatness; who is accorded reverence only by simple
people and foolish women!
     "The real gods are dark and bloody! Remember
my words when soon you lie on an ebon altar behind
which broods a black shadow forever. Before you die
you shall know the real gods, the powerful, the terri-
ble gods, who came from forgotten worlds and lost
realms of blackness. Who had their birth on frozen
stars, and black suns brooding beyond the light of any
stars. You shall know the brain-shattering truth of that
Unnamable One, to whose reality no earthly likeness
may be given, but whose symbol is—The Black
Shadow!"
     The girl ceased to cry, frozen, like the youth, into
dazed silence. They sensed, behind these threats, a
hideous and inhuman gulf of monstrous shadows.
     Thuron took a stride toward them, bent and
reached claw-like hands to grip and lift them to his
shoulders. He laughed as they sought to writhe away
from him. His fingers closed on the girl's tender shoul-
der—
     A scream shattered the crystal gong of the silence
into a million vibrating shards as Thuron bounded
into the air and fell on his face, screeching and writh-
ing. Some small creature scurried away and van-
ished through the door. Thuron's screams dwindled
into a high, thin squealing and broke short at the
highest note. Silence fell like a deathly mist.
     At last the boy spoke in an awed whisper.
     "What was it?"
     "A scorpion!" the girl's answer came low and
tremulous. "It crawled across my bare bosom without
harming me, and when Thuron seized me it stung
him."
     Another silence fell. Then the boy spoke again,
hesitantly.
     "No scorpion has been seen in this city for longer
than men remember."
     "The Great One summoned this of his people to
our aid!" whispered the girl. "The gods never forget,


and the Great Scorpion has kept his oath. Let us give
thanks to him!"
     And, bound hand and foot as they were, the
youthful lovers wriggled about on their faces, where
they lay giving praise to the great silent, glistening
scorpion on the altar for a long time-until a distant
clash of many silver-shod hoofs and the clangor of
swords bore to them the coming of the king.


Delcardes' Cat
     King Kull went with Tu, chief councilor of the
throne, to see the talking cat of Delcardes, for though
a cat may look at a king, it is not given every king a
look at a cat like Delcardes'. So Kull forgot the death
threat of Thulsa Doom, the necromancer, and went to
Delcardes.
     Kull was skeptical, and Tu was wary and suspi-
cious without knowing why, but years of counter-plot
and intrigue had soured him. He swore testily that a
talking cat was a fraud, a swindle, and a delusion; and
maintained that should such a thing exist, it was a di-
rect insult to the gods, who ordained that only man
should enjoy the power of speech.
     But Kull knew that in the old times beasts had
talked to men, for he had heard the legends, handed
down from his barbarian ancestors. So he was skepti-
cal but open to conviction.
     Delcardes helped the conviction. She lounged
with supple ease upon her silk couch, like a great,
beautiful feline, and looked at Kull from under long,
drooping lashes, which lent unimaginable charm to
her narrow, piquantly slanted eyes.
     Her lips were full and red, and usually, as at pres-
ent, curved in a faint enigmatical smile. Her silken
garments and ornaments of gold and gems hid little of
her glorious figure.


     But Kull was not interested in women. He ruled
Valusia, but for all that, he was an Atlantean and a
savage in the eyes of his subjects. War and conquest
held his attention, together with keeping his feet on
the ever-rocking throne of the ancient empire, and the
task of learning the customs and thoughts of the peo-
ple he ruled.
     To Kull, Delcardes was a mysterious and queenly
figure, alluring, yet surrounded by a haze of ancient
wisdom and womanly magic.
     To Tu, she was a woman and therefore the latent
base of intrigue and danger.
     To Ka-nu, Pictish ambassador and Kull's closest
adviser, she was an eager child, parading under the
effect of her play-acting; but Ka-nu was not there
when Kull came to see the talking cat.
     The cat lolled on a silken cushion on a couch of
her own, and surveyed the king with inscrutable eyes.
Her name was Saremes, and she had a slave who stood
behind her, ready to do her bidding; a lanky man who
kept the lower part of his face concealed by a thin veil
which fell to his chest.
     "King Kull," said Delcardes, "I crave a boon of
you before Saremes begins to speak, when I must be
silent."
     "You may speak," Kull answered.
     The girl smiled eagerly and clasped her hands.
     "Let me marry Kulra Thoom of Zarfhaana."
     Tu broke in as Kull was about to speak.
     "My lord, this matter has been thrashed out at
lengths before! I thought there was some purpose in
requesting this visit! This—this girl has a strain of
royal blood in her, and it is against the custom of Val-
usia that royal women should marry foreigners of
lower rank."
     "But the king can rule otherwise," pouted Del-
cardes.
     "My lord," said Tu, spreading his hands as one in
the last stages of nervous irritation, "if she marries
thus it is likely to cause war and rebellion and discord
for the next hundred years."


     He was about to plunge into a dissertation on
rank, genealogy, and history; but Kull interrupted, his
short stock of patience exhausted.
     "Valka and Hotath! Am I an old woman or a
priest to be bedevilled with such affairs? Settle it be-
tween yourselves and vex me no more with questions
of mating! By Valka, in Atlantis men and women
marry whom they please and none else."
     Delcardes pouted a little, made a face at Tu, who
scowled back; then smiled sunnily and turned on her
couch with a lissome movement.
     "Talk to Saremes, Kull; she will grow jealous of
me."
     Kull eyed the cat uncertainly. Her fur was long,
silky, and gray; her eyes slanting and mysterious.
     "She looks very young, Kull; yet she is very old,"
said Delcardes. "She is a cat of the Old Race who
lived to be thousands of years old. Ask her age, Kull."
     "How many years have you seen, Saremes?"
asked Kull idly.
     "Valusia was young when I was old," the cat an-
swered in a clear though curiously timbred voice.
     Kull started violently.
     "Valka and Hotath!" he swore. "She talks!"
     Delcardes laughed softly in pure enjoyment, but
the expression of the cat never altered.
     "I talk, I think, I know, I am," she said. "I have
been the ally of queens and the councilor of kings
ages before the white beaches of Atlantis knew your
feet, Kull of Valusia. I saw the ancestors of the Valu-
sians ride out of the far east to trample down the Old
Race, and I was here when the Old Race came up out
of the oceans so many eons ago that the mind of man
reels when seeking to measure them. Older am I than
Thulsa Doom, whom few men have ever seen. I have
seen empires rise and kingdoms fall and kings ride in
on their steeds and out on their shields. Aye, I have
been a goddess in my time, and strange were the neo-
phytes who bowed before me and terrible were the
rites which were performed in my worship. For of old,


beings exalted my land—beings as strange as their
deeds."
     "Can you read the stars and foretell events?"
Kull's barbarian mind at once leaped to material
ideas.
     "Aye, the books of the past and the future are
open to me, and I tell man what is good for him to
know."
     "Then tell me," said Kull, "where I misplaced the
secret letter from Ka-nu yesterday."
     "You thrust it into the bottom of your dagger
scabbard and then instantly forgot it," the cat replied.
     Kull started, snatched out his dagger, and shook
the sheath. A thin strip of folded parchment tumbled
out.
     "Valka and Hotath!" he swore. "Saremes, you are
a witch of cats! Mark ye, Tu!"
     But Tu's lips were pressed in a straight, disap-
proving line, and he eyed Delcardes darkly.
     She returned his stare guilelessly, and he turned
to Kull in irritation.
     "My lord, consider! This is all mummery of some
sort."
     "Tu, none saw me hide that letter, for I myself
had forgotten."
     "Lord king, any spy might—"
     "Spy? Be not a greater fool than you were born,
Tu. Shall a cat set spies to watch me hide letters?"
     Tu sighed. As he grew older it was becoming in-
creasingly difficult to refrain from showing exasper-
ation toward kings.
     "My lord, give thought to the humans who may
be behind the cat!"
     "Lord Tu," said Delcardes in a tone of gentle re-
proach, "you put me to shame, and you offend Sar-
emes."
     Kull felt vaguely angered at Tu.
     "At least, Tu," said he, "the cat talks; that you
cannot deny."
     "There is some trickery," Tu stubbornly main-
tained. "Man talks; beasts may not."


     "Not so," said Kull, himself convinced of the real-
ity of the talking cat, and anxious to prove that he was
correct. "A lion talked to Kambra, and birds have spo-
ken to the old men of the Sea-mountain tribe, telling
them where game was hidden.
     "None denies that beasts talk among themselves.
Many a night have I lain on the slopes of the forest-
covered hills or out on the grassy savannahs, and have
heard the tigers roaring to one another across the star-
light. Then why should some beast not learn the
speech of man? There have been times when I could
almost understand the roaring of the tigers. The tiger
is my totem and is tabu to me, save in self-defense,"
he added irrelevantly.
     Tu squirmed. This talk of totem and tabu was
good enough in a savage chief, but to hear such re-
marks from the king of Valusia irked him extremely.
     "My lord," said he, "a cat is not a tiger."
     "Very true," said Kull. "And this one is wiser than
all tigers."
     "That is naught but truth," said Saremes calmly.
     "Lord chancellor, would you believe then if I told
you what was at this moment transpiring at the royal
treasury?"
     "No!" Tu snarled. "Clever spies may learn any-
thing, as I have found."
     "No man can be convinced when he will not,"
said Saremes imperturbably, quoting an ancient Valu-
sian saying. 'Yet know, lord Tu, that a surplus of
twenty gold tals has been discovered, and a courier is
even now hastening through the streets to tell you of
it. Ah," as a step sounded in the corridor without,
"even now he comes."
     A slim courtier, clad in the gay garments of the
royal treasury, entered, bowing deeply, and craved
permission to speak. Kull having granted it, he said:
     "Mighty king and lord Tu, a surplus'of twenty
tals of gold has been found in the royal moneys."
     Delcardes laughed and clapped her hands de-
lightedly, but Tu merely scowled.


    "When was this discovered?"
    "A scant half-hour ago."
    "How many have been told of it?"
    "None, my lord. Only I and the royal treasurer
have known until just now when I told you, my lord."
    "Humph!" Tu waved him aside sourly. "Begone. I
will see about this matter later."
    "Delcardes," said Kull, "this cat is yours, is she
not?"
    "Lord king," answered the girl, "no one owns Sar-
emes. She only bestows on me the honor of her pres-
ence; she is a guest. She is her own mistress and has
been for a thousand years."
    "I would that I might keep her in the palace,"
said Kull.
    "Saremes," said Delcardes deferentially, "the king
would have you as his guest."
    "I will go with the king of Valusia," said the cat
with dignity, "and remain in the royal palace until
such time as it shall pleasure me to go elsewhere. For
I am a great traveler, Kull, and it pleases me at times
to go out over the world and walk the streets of cities
where in ages gone by I have roamed forests, and to
tread the sands of deserts where long ago I trod impe-
rial streets."
     So Saremes, the talking cat, came to the royal pal-
ace of Valusia. Her slave accompanied her, and she
was given a spacious chamber lined with fine couches
and silken pillows. The best viands of the royal table
were placed before her daily, and all the household of
the king did homage to her except Tu, who grumbled
to see a cat exalted, even a talking cat. Saremes
treated him with amused contempt, but admitted Kull
into a level of dignified equality.
     She quite often came into his throne chamber,
borne on a silken cushion by her slave, who must al-
ways accompany her, no matter where she went.
     At other times Kull came into her chamber, and
they talked into the dim hours of dawn, and many
were the tales she told him and ancient the wisdom


that she imparted. Kull listened with interest and at-
tention, for it was evident that this cat was wiser far
than many of his councilors, and had gained more an-
cient wisdom than all of them together. Her words
were pithy and oracular, but she refused to prophesy
beyond minor affairs taking place in the everyday life
of the palace or kingdom; save that she warned him
against Thulsa Doom, who had sent a threat to Kull.
     "For," said she, "I, who have lived more years
than you shall live minutes, know that man is better
off without knowledge of things to come; for what is
to be, will be, and man can neither avert nor hasten.
It is better to go in the dark when the road must pass
a lion and there is no other road."
     "Yes," said Kull, "if what must be, is to be—a
thing which I doubt—and a man be told what things
shall come to pass and his arm weakened or strength-
ened thereby; then was that, too, foreordained?"
     "If he was ordained to be told," said Saremes,
adding to Kull's perplexity and doubt "However, not
all of life's roads are set fast, for a man may do this or
a man may do that, and not even the gods know the
mind of a man."
     "Then," said Kull dubiously, "all things are not
destined if there be more than one road for a man to
follow. And how can events then be prophesied truly?"
     "Life has many roads, Kull," answered Saremes.
"I stand at the crossroads of the world, and I know
what lies down each road. Still, not even the gods
know what road a man will take, whether the right
hand or the left hand, when he comes to the dividing
of the ways; and once started upon a road, he cannot
retrace his steps."
     "Then, in Valka's name," said Kull, "why not
point out to me the perils or the advantages of each
road as it comes and aid me in choosing?"
     "Because there are bounds set upon the powers of
such as I," the cat replied, "lest we hinder the work-
ings of the alchemy of the gods. We may not brush the
veil entirely aside for human eyes, lest the gods take
our power from us, and lest we do harm to man. For


though there are many roads at each crossroads, still a
man must take one of those and sometimes one is no
better than another. So Hope flickers her lamp along
one road and man follows, though that road may be
the foulest of all."
     Then she continued, seeing Kull found it difficult
to understand.
     "You see, lord long, that our powers must have
limits, else we might grow too powerful and threaten
the gods. So a mystic spell is laid upon us, and while
we may open the books of the past, we may but grant
flying glances of the future through the mist that
veils it."
     Kull felt somehow that the argument of Saremes
was rather flimsy and illogical, smacking of witchcraft
and mummery; but with Saremes' cold, oblique eyes
gazing unwinkingly at him, he was not prone to offer
any objections, even had he thought of any.
     "Now," said the cat, "I will draw aside the veil for
an instant to your own good—let Delcardes marry
Kulra Thoom."
     Kull rose with an impatient twitch of his mighty
shoulders.
     "I will have naught to do with a woman's mating.
Let Tu attend to it."
     Yet Kull slept on the thought, and as Saremes
wove the advice craftily into her philosophizing and
moralizing in days to come, Kull weakened.
     A strange sight it was indeed, to see Kull, his chin
resting on his great fist, leaning forward and drinking
in the distinct intonations of me cat Saremes as she
lay curled on her silken cushion, or stretched lan-
guidly at full length; as she talked of mysterious and
fascinating subjects, her eyes glinting strangely and
her lips scarcely moving, if at all, while the slave Ku-
thulos stood behind her like a statue, motionless and
speechless.
     Kull highly valued her opinions, and he was
prone to ask her advice—which she gave warily or not
at all—on matters of state. Still, Kull found that what
she advised usually coincided with his private wish,


and he began to wonder if she were not a mind reader
also.
     Kuthulos irked him with his gauntness, his mo-
tionlessness, and his silence, but Saremes would have
none other to attend her. Kull strove to pierce the veil
that masked the man's features, but though it seemed
thin enough, he could tell nothing of the face beneath
and out of courtesy to Saremes never asked Kuthulos
to unveil.
     Kull came to the chamber of Saremes one day,
and she looked at him with enigmatical eyes. The
masked slave stood statue-like behind her.
     "Kull," said she, "again I will tear the veil for you.
Brule, the Pictish Spear-slayer, warrior of Ka-nu and
your friend, has just been hauled beneath the surface
of the Forbidden Lake by a grisly monster."
     Kull sprang up, cursing in rage and alarm.
     "Ha! Brule? Valka's name, what was he doing
about the Forbidden Lake?"
     "He was swimming there. Hasten, you may yet
save him, even though he be borne to the Enchanted
Land which lies below the Lake."
     Kull whirled toward the door. He was startled,
but not so much as he would have been had the
swimmer been someone else, for he knew the reckless
irreverence of the Pict, chief among Valusia's most
powerful allies.
     He started to shout for guards, when Saremes'
voice stayed him.
     "Nay, my lord. You had best go alone. Not even
your command might make men accompany you into
the waters of that grim lake, and by the custom of
Valusia, it is death for any man to enter there save the
king."
     "Aye, I will go alone," said Kull, "and thus save
Brule from the anger of the people, should he chance
to escape the monsters. Inform Ka-nu."
     Kull, discouraging respectful inquiries with word-
less snarls, mounted his great stallion and rode out of
Valusia at full speed. He rode alone and he ordered
that none follow him. That which he had to do, he


could do alone, and he did not wish anyone to see
when he brought Brule or Brule's corpse out of the
Forbidden Lake. He cursed the reckless inconsider-
ation of the Pict, and he cursed the tabu which hung
over the lake; the violation of which might cause re-
bellion among the Valusians.
     Twilight was stealing down from the mountains
of Zalgara when Kull halted his horse on the shores of
the lake, which lay amid a great lonely forest. There
was certainly nothing forbidding in its appearance, for
its waters spread blue and placid from beach to wide
white beach, and the tiny islands rising about its
bosom seemed like gems of emerald and Jade. A faint
shimmering mist rose from it, enhancing the air of
lazy unreality which lay about the regions of the lake.
Kull listened intently for a moment, and it seemed to
him as though faint and faraway music breathed up
through the sapphire waters.
     He cursed impatiently, wondering if he were be-
ginning to be bewitched, and flung aside all garments
and ornaments except his girdle, loin-clout, and
sword. He waded out into the shimmery blueness un-
til it lapped his thighs; then, knowing that the depth
swiftly increased, he drew a deep breath and dived.
     As he swam down through the sapphire glimmer,
he had time to reflect that this was probably a fool's
errand. He might have taken time to find from Sar-
ernes just where Brule had been swimming when at-
tacked and whether he was destined to rescue the
warrior or not. Still, he thought that the cat might not
have told him, and even if she had assured him of fail-
ure, he would have attempted what he was now
doing, anyway. So there was truth in Saremes' saying
that men were better untold about the future.
     As for the location of the site where Brule had
been attacked, the monster might have dragged him
anywhere. Kull intended to explore the lake bed un-
til-
     Even as he ruminated thus, a shadow flashed by
him, a vague shimmer in the jade and sapphire shim-
mer of the lake. He was aware that other shadows


swept by him on all sides, but he could not make out
their forms.
Far beneath him he began to see the glimmer ot
the lake bottom which seemed to glow with a strange
radiance. Now the shadows were all about him; they
wove a serpentine net about him, an ever-changing
thousand-hued glittering web of color. The water here
burned topaz and the things wavered and scintillated
in its faery splendor. Like the shades and shadows of
colors they were, vague and unreal, yet opaque and
gleaming.
     However, Kull, deciding that they had no inten-
tion of attacking him, gave them no more attention,
but directed his gaze on the lake floor which his feet
just then lightly struck. He started, and could have
sworn that he had landed on a living creature, for he
felt a rhythmic movement beneath his bare feet. The
faint glow was evident there at the bottom of the lake;
as far as he could see, stretching away on all sides
until it faded into the lambent sapphire shadows, the
lake floor was one solid level of fire that faded and
glowed with unceasing regularity. Kull bent closer;
the floor was covered by a sort of short moss-like
substance which shone like white flame. It was as if
the lake bed were covered with myriads of fireflies
which raised and lowered their wings together. And
this moss throbbed beneath his feet like a living thing.
     Now Kull began to swim upward again. Raised
among the sea-mountains of ocean-girt Atlantis, he
was like a sea creature himself. As much at home in
the water as any Lemurian, he could remain under the
surface twice as long as the ordinary swimmer, but
this lake was deep and he wished to conserve his
strength.
     He came to the top, filled his enormous chest
with air, and dived again. Again the shadows swept
about him, almost dazzling his eyes with their ghostly
gleams. He swam faster this time, and having reached
the bottom, he began to walk along it as fast as the
clinging substance about his limbs would allow;
the while the fire-moss breathed and glowed and the


color things flashed about him and monstrous, night-
marish shadows fell across his shoulder upon the
burning floor, flung by unseen beings.
     The moss was littered by the skulls and the bones
of men who had dared the Forbidden Lake. Suddenly,
with a silent swirl of the waters, a thing rushed upon
Kull. At first the king thought it to be a huge octo-
pus, for the body was that of an octopus, with long
waving tentacles; but as it charged upon him he saw
that it had legs like a man and a hideous semi-human
face leered at him from among the writhing, snaky
arms of the monster.
     Kull braced his feet, and as he felt the cruel ten-
tacles whip about his limbs, he thrust his sword with
cool accuracy into the midst of that demoniac face,
and the creature lumbered down and died at his feet
with grisly, soundless gibbering. Blood spread like a
mist about him, and Kull thrust strongly against the
floor with his legs and shot upward.
     He burst into the fast-fading light, and even as he
did, a great form came skimming across the water to-
ward him—a water spider, but this one was larger than
a boar, and its cold eyes gleamed hellishly. Kull, keep-
ing himself afloat with his feet and one hand, raised
his sword, and as the spider rushed in, he cleft it half-
way through the body; and it sank silently.
     A slight noise made him turn, and another, larger
than the first, was almost upon him. This one flung
over the king's arms and shoulders strands of clinging
web that would have meant doom for any but a giant.
But Kull burst the grim shackles as if they had been
strings, and, seizing a leg of the thing as it towered
above him, he thrust the monster through again and
again till it weakened in his grasp and floated away,
reddening the waters.
     "Valka!" muttered the king, "I am not like to go
without employment here. Yet these things be easy to
slay. How could they have overcome Brule, who is
second only to me in battle might in all the Seven
Kingdoms?"
     But Kull was to find that grimmer spectres than


these haunted the death-ridden abysses of Forbidden
Lake. Again he dived and this time only the color-
shadows and the bones of forgotten men met his
glance. Again he rose for air and for the fourth time
e dived.
     He was not far from one of the islands, and as he
swam downward, he wondered what strange things
were hidden by the dense emerald foliage which
cloaked these islands. Legend said that temples and
shrines reared there that were never built by human
hands, and that on certain nights the lake beings came
out of the deeps to enact eerie rites there.
     The rush came just as his feet struck the moss. It
came from behind, and Kull, warned by some primal
instinct, whirled Just in time to see a great form loom
over him—a form neither man nor beast, but horribly
compounded of both—to feel gigantic fingers close on
arm and shoulder.
  He struggled savagely, but the thing held his sword
arm helpless, and its talons sank deeply into his left
forearm. With a volcanic wrench he twisted about so
that he could at least see his attacker. The thing was
something like a monstrous shark, but a long, cruel
horn, curved like a saber, jutted up from its snout. It
had four arms, human in shape but inhuman in size
and strength and in the crooked talons of the fingers.
     With two arms the monster held Kull helpless,
and with the other two it bent his head back to break
his spine. But not even such a grim being as this
might so easily conquer Kull of Atlantis. A wild rage
surged up in him, and the king of Valusia went ber-
serk.
     Bracing his feet against the yielding moss, he tore
his left arm free with a heave and wrench of his shoul-
ders. With cat-like speed, he sought to shift the sword
from right hand to left and, failing in this, struck sav-
agely at the monster with clenched fist. But the mock-
ing sapphirean stuff about him foiled him, breaking
the force of his blow. The shark-man lowered his snout,
but, before he could strike upward, Kull gripped the
horn with his left hand and held fast


     Then followed a test of might and endurance.
Kull, unable to move with any speed in the water,
knew his only hope was to keep in close and wrestle
with his foe in such manner as to counterbalance the
monster's quickness. He strove desperately to tear his
sword arm loose, and the shark-man was forced to
grasp it with all four of his hands. Kull gripped the
horn and dared not let go lest he be disemboweled
with its terrible upward thrust, and the shark-man
dared not release with a single hand the arm that held
Kull's long sword.
     So they wrenched and wrestled, and Kull saw
that he was doomed if it went on in this manner. Al-
ready he was beginning to suffer for want of air. The
gleam in the cold eyes of the shark-man told that he,
too, recognized the fact that he had but to hold Kull
below the surface until he drowned.
     A desperate plight indeed, for any man. But Kull
of Atlantis was no ordinary man. Trained from child-
hood in a hard and bloody school, with steel muscles
and dauntless brain bound together by the coordina-
tion that makes the super-fighter, he added to this a
courage which never faltered and a tigerish rage
which on occasion swept him up to superhuman
deeds.
     So now, conscious of his swiftly approaching
doom and goaded to frenzy by his helplessness, he de-
cided upon action as desperate as his need. He released
the monster's horn, at the same time bending his body
as far back as he could and gripping the nearest arm
of the thing with the free hand.
     Instantly the shark-man struck, his horn plough-
ing along Kull's thigh and then-the luck of Atlantis!—
wedging fast in Kull's heavy girdle. And as he tore it
free, Kull sent his mighty strength through the fingers
that held the monster's arm, and crushed clammy
flesh and inhuman bone like rotten fruit between
them.
     The shark-man's mouth gaped silently with the
torment and he struck again wildly. Kull avoided the
blow, and losing their balance, they went down to-



gether, half buoyed by the jade surge in which they
wallowed. And as they tossed there, Kull tore his
sword arm from the weakening grip and, striking up-
ward, split the monster open.
     The entire battle had consumed only a very brief
time, but to Kull, as he swam upward, his head sing-
ing and a great weight seeming to press his ribs, it
seemed like hours. He saw dimly that the lake floor
shelved suddenly upward close at hand and knew that
it sloped to an island; then the water came alive about
him and he felt himself lapped from shoulder to heel
in gigantic coils which even his steel muscles could
not break. His consciousness was fading—he felt him-
self borne along at terrific speed—there was a sound
of many bells—then suddenly he was above water and
his tortured lungs were drinking in great draughts of
air. He was whirling along through utter darkness,
and he had time to take only a long breath before he
was again swept under.
     Again light glowed about him, and he saw the
fire-moss throbbing far below. He was in the grasp of
a great serpent who had flung a few lengths of its
sinuous body about him like huge cables and was now
bearing him to what destination Valka alone knew.
     Kull did not struggle, reserving his strength. If
the snake did not keep him so long under water that
he died, there would no doubt be a chance of battle
in the creature's lair or wherever he was being taken.
As it was, Kull's limbs were pinioned so close that he
could no more free an arm than he could have flown.
     The serpent, racing through the blue deeps so
swiftly, was the largest Kull had ever seen—a good
two hundred feet of jade and golden scales, vividly
and wonderfully colored. Its eyes, when they turned
toward Kull, were like icy fire, if such a thing can be.
Even then Kull's imaginative soul was struck with the
bizarreness of the scene: that great green and gold
form flying through the burning topaz of the lake,
while the shadow-colors weaved dazzlingly about it
     The fire-gemmed floor sloped upward again-
either for an island or the lake shore—and a great cav-


era suddenly appeared before them. The snake glided
into this, the fire-moss ceased, and Kull found himself
partly above the surface in unlighted darkness. He
was borne along in this manner for what seemed like
a very long time; then the monster dived again.
     Again they came up into light, but such light as
Kull had never before seen. A luminous glow shim-
mered duskily over the face of the waters which lay
dark and still. And Kull knew that be was in the En-
chanted Domain under the bottom of Forbidden
Lake, for this was no earthly radiance; it was a black
light, blacker than any darkness; yet it lit the unholy
waters so that he could see the dusky glimmer of them
and his own dark reflection in them. The coils sud-
denly loosed from his limbs, and he struck out for a
vast bulk that loomed in the shadows in front of him.
     Swimming strongly, he approached and saw that
it was a great city. On a great level of black stone, it
towered up and up until its sombre spires were lost in
the blackness above the unhallowed light, which,
black also, was yet of a different hue. Huge square-
built massive buildings of mighty basaltic-like blocks
fronted him as he clambered out of the clammy wa-
ters and strode up the steps which were cut into the
stone like steps in a wharf. Columns rose gigantically
between the buildings.
     No gleam of earthly light lessened the grimness
of this inhuman city, but from its walls and towers the
black light flowed out over the waters in vast throb-
bing waves.
     Kull was aware that in a wide space before him,
where the buildings swept away on each side, a huge
concourse of beings confronted him. He blinked, striv-
ing to accustom his eyes to the strange illumination.
The beings came closer, and a whisper ran among
them like the waving of grass in the night wind. They
were light and shadowy, glimmering against the
blackness of their city, and their eyes were eery and
luminous.
     Then the king saw that one of their number stood
in front of the rest. This one was much like a man,


and his bearded face was high and noble, but a frown
hovered over his magnificent brows.
     "You come like a herald of all your race," said this
lake-man suddenly. "Bloody and bearing a red sword."
     Kull laughed angrily, for this smacked of injus-
tice.
     "Valka and Hotath!" said the king. "Most of this
blood is mine own and was let by things of your
cursed lake."
     "Death and ruin follow the course of your race,"
said the lake-man sombrely. "Do we not know? Aye,
we reigned in the lake of blue waters before mankind
was even a dream of the gods."
     "None molests you—" began Kull.
     "They fear to. In the old days men of the earth
sought to invade our dark kingdom. And we slew
them, and there was war between the sons of man and
the people of the lakes. And we came forth and
spread terror among the earthlings, for we knew that
they bore only death for us and that they yielded only
to slaying. And we wove spells and charms and burst
their brains and shattered their souls with our magic
so they begged for peace, and it was so. The men of
earth laid a tabu on this lake so that no man may
come here save the king of Valusia. That was thou-
sands of years ago. No man has ever come into the
Enchanted Land and gone forth, save as a corpse
floating up through the still waters of the upper lake.
King of Valusia, or whoever you be, you are doomed."
     Kull snarled in defiance.
     "I sought not your cursed kingdom. I seek Brule
the Spear-slayer whom you dragged down."
     "You lie," the lake-man answered. "No man has
dared this lake for over a hundred years. You come
seeking treasure or to ravish and slay like all your
bloody-handed kind. You die!"
     And Kull felt the whisperings of magic charms
about him; they filled the air and took physical form,
floating in the shimmering light like wispy spider-
webs, clutching at him with vague tentacles. But Kull
swore impatiently and swept them aside and out of


existence with his bare hand. For against the fierce
elemental logic of the savage, the magic of decadency
had no force.
     "You are young and strong," said the lake-king.
"The rot of civilization has not yet entered your soul
and our charms may not harm you, because you do
not understand them. Then we must try other things."
     And the lake-beings about him drew daggers and
moved upon Kull. Then the king laughed and set his
back against a column, gripping his sword hilt until
the muscles stood out on his right arm in great ridges.
     "This is a game I understand, ghosts," he laughed.
     They halted.
     "Seek not to evade your doom," said the king of
the lake, "for we are immortal and may not be slain
by mortal arms."
     "You lie, now," answered Kull, with the craft of
the barbarian, "for by your own words you feared the
death my kind brought among you. You may live for-
ever, but steel can slay you. Take thought among
yourselves. You are soft and weak and unskilled in
arms; you bear your blades unfamiliarly. I was born
and bred to slaying. You will slay me, for there are
thousands of you and I but one; yet your charms have
failed, and many of you shall die before I fall. I will
slaughter you by the scores. Take thought, men of the
lake; is my slaying worth the lives it will cost you?"
     For Kull knew that beings who slay by steel may
be slain by steel, and he was unafraid. A figure of
threat and doom, bloody and terrible he loomed
above them.
     "Aye, consider," he repeated, "is it better that you
should bring Brule to me and let us go, or that my
corpse shall lie amid sword-torn heaps of your dead
when the battle shout is silent? Nay, there be Picts
and Lemurians among my mercenaries who will fol-
low my trail even into the Forbidden Lake and will
drench the Enchanted Land with your gore if I die
here. For they have their own tabus, and they reck
not of the tabus of the civilized races; nor care they


what may happen to Valusia, but think only of me
who am of barbarian blood like themselves."
     "The old world reels down the road to ruin and
forgetfulness," brooded the lake-king. "And we that
were all-powerful in bygone days must brook to be
bearded in our own kingdom by an arrogant savage.
Swear that you will never set foot in Forbidden Lake
again and that you will never let the tabus be broken
by others, and you shall go free."
     "First bring the Spear-slayer to me."
     "No such man has ever come to this lake."
     "Nay? The cat Saremes told me-"
     "Saremes? Aye, we knew her of old when she
came swimming down through the green waters and
abode for some centuries in the courts of the En-
chanted Land; the wisdom of the ages is hers, but I
knew not that she spoke the speech of earthly men.
Still, there is no such man here, and I swear—"
     "Swear not by gods or devils," Kull broke in.
"Give your word as a true man."
     "I give it," said the lake-king, and Kull believed,
for there was a majestic bearing about the king which
made Kull feel strangely small and rude.
     "And I," said Kull, "give you my word—which has
never been broken—that no man shall break the tabu
or molest you in any way again."
     "And I believe you, for you are different from
any earthly man I ever knew. You are a real king and,
what is greater, a true man."
     Kull thanked him and sheathed his sword, turn-
ing toward the steps.
     "Know ye how to gain the outer world, king of
Valusia?"
     "As to that," answered Kull, "if I swim long
enough I suppose I shall find the way. I know that the
serpent brought me clear through at least one island
and possibly many, and that we swam in a cave for a
long time."
     "You are bold," said the lake-king, "but you might
swim forever in the dark."


     He raised his hands, and a behemoth swam to the
foot of the steps.
     "A grim steed," said the lake-king, "but he will
bear you safely to the very shore of the upper lake."
     A moment," said Kull. "Am I at present beneath
an island, or the mainland—or is this land in truth be-
neath the lake floor?"
     "You are at the centre of the universe as you are
always. Time, place, and space are illusions, having no
existence save in the mind of man which must set lim-
its and bounds in order to understand. There is only
the underlying reality, of which all appearances are
but outward manifestations, just as the upper lake is
fed by the waters of this real one. Go now, king, for
you are a true man even though you be the first wave
of the rising tide of savagery which shall overwhelm
the world ere it recedes."
     Kull listened respectfully, understanding little but
realizing that this was high magic. He struck hands
with the lake-king, shuddering a little at the feel of
that which was flesh, but not human flesh; then he
looked once more at the great black buildings rearing
silently and the murmuring moth-like forms among
them, and he looked out over the shiny jet surface of
the waters with the waves of black light crawling like
spiders across it. And he turned and went down the
stair of the water's edge and sprang on the back of the
behemoth.
     Eons followed, of dark caves and rushing waters
and the whisper of gigantic unseen monsters; some-
times above and sometimes below the surface the be-
hemoth bore the long, and finally the fire-moss
leaped up and they swept up through the blue of the
burning water; and Kull waded to land.
     Kull's stallion stood patiently where the king had
left him. The moon was }ust rising over the lake,
whereat Kull swore amazedly.
     "A scant hour ago, by Valka, I dismounted here! I
had thought that many hours and possibly days had
passed since then."
     He mounted and rode toward the city of Valusia,


reflecting that there might have been some meaning
in the lake-king's remarks about the illusion of time.
     Kull was weary, angry, and bewildered. The jour-
ney through the lake had cleansed him of the blood,
but the motion of riding started the gash in his thigh
to bleeding again; moreover, the leg was stiff and
irked him somewhat. Still, the main thought that pre-
sented itself was that Saremes had lied to him, either
through ignorance or through malicious forethought,
and had come near to sending him to his death. For
what reason?
     Kull cursed, reflecting what Tu would say. Still,
even a talking cat might be innocently wrong, but
hereafter Kull determined to lay no weight to the
words of such.
     Kull rode into the silent silvery streets of the an-
cient city, and the guards at the gate gaped at his
appearance, but wisely refrained from questioning.
     He found the palace in an uproar. Swearing, he
stalked to his council chamber and thence to the
chamber of the cat Saremes. The cat was there, curled
imperturbably on her cushion; and grouped about the
chamber, each striving to talk down the others, were
Tu and the chief councilors. The slave Kuthulos was
nowhere to be seen.
     Kull was greeted by a wild acclamation of shouts
and questions, but he strode straight to Saremes' cush-
ion and glared at her.
     "Saremes," said the king, "you lied to me."
     The cat stared at him coldly, yawned, and made
no reply. Kull stood nonplussed, and Tu seized his
arm.
     "Kull, where in Valka's name have you been?
Whence this blood?"
     Kull jerked loose irritably.
     "Leave be," he snarled. "This cat sent me on a
fool's errand—where is Brule?"
     "Kull!"
     The king whirled and saw Brule stride through
the door, his scanty garments stained by the dust of


hard riding. The bronze features of the Pict were im-
mobile, but his dark eyes gleamed with relief.
     "Name of seven devils!" said the warrior testily,
to hide his emotion. "My riders have combed the hills
and the forest for you. Where have you been?"
     "Searching the waters of Forbidden Lake for your
worthless carcass," answered Kull, with grim enjoy-
ment at the Pict's perturbation.
     "Forbidden Lake!" Brule exclaimed with the free-
dom of the savage. "Are you in your dotage? What
would I be doing there? I accompanied Ka-nu yester-
day to the Zarfhaanian border and returned to hear
Tu ordering out all the army to search for you. My
men have since then ridden in every direction except
the Forbidden Lake, where we never thought of
going."
Saremes lied to me—" Kull began.
     But he was drowned out by a chatter of scolding
voices, the main theme being that a king should never
ride off so unceremoniously, leaving the kingdom to
take care of itself.
     "Silence!" roared Kull, lifting his arms, his eyes
blazing dangerously. "Valka and Hotath! Am I an ur-
chin to be rated for truancy? Tu, tell me what has
occurred."
     In the sudden silence which followed his royal
outburst, Tu began:
     "My lord, we have been duped from the begin-
ning. This cat is, as I have maintained, a delusion and
a dangerous fraud."
     "Yet-"
     "My lord, have you never heard of men who
could hurl their voices to a distance, making it appear
that another spoke out, or that invisible voices
sounded?"
     Kull flushed. "Aye, by Valka! Fool that I should
have forgotten! An old wizard of Lemuria had that
gift Yet who spoke—"
     "Kuthulos!" exclaimed Tu. "Fool am I not to have
remembered Kuthulos, a slave, aye, but the greatest
scholar and the wisest man in all the Seven Empires.


Slave of that she-fiend Delcardes who even now
writhes on the rack!"
     Kull gave a sharp exclamation.
     "Aye,' said Tu grimly. "When I entered and found
that you had ridden away, none knew where, I sus-
pected treachery, and I sat down and thought hard.
And I remembered Kuthulos and his art of voice-
throwing and of how the false cat had told you small
things but never great prophecies, giving false argu-
ments for reason of refraining.
     "So I knew that Delcardes had sent you this cat
and Kuthulos to befool you and gain your confidence,
and finally send you to your doom. So I sent for Del-
cardes and ordered her put to the torture so that she
might confess all. She planned cunningly. Aye, Sar-
emes must have her slave Kuthulos with her all the
time—while he talked through her mouth and put
strange ideas in your mind."
     Then where is Kuthulos?" asked Kull.
     "He had disappeared when I came to Saremes'
chamber, and—"
     "Ho, Kull!" a cheery voice boomed from the door
and a bearded, elfish figure strode in, accompanied
by a slim, frightened girlish shape.
     "Ka-nu! Delcardes! So they did not torture you
after all!"
     "Oh, my lord!" she ran to him and fell on her
knees before him, clasping his feet. "Oh, Kull," she
wailed, "they accuse me of terrible things! I am guilty
of deceiving you, my lord, but I meant no harm! I
only wished to marry Kulra Thoom!"
     Kull raised her to her feet, perplexed, but pitying
her for her evident terror and remorse.
     "Kull," said Ka-nu, "it is a good thing I returned
when I did, else you and Tu had tossed the kingdom
into the sea!"
     Tu snarled wordlessly, always jealous of the Pict-
ish ambassador, who was also Kull's adviser.
     "I returned to find the whole palace in an uproar,
men rushing hither and yon and falling over one an-
other in doing nothing. I sent Brule and his riders to


look for you, and going to the torture chamber—
naturally I went first to the torture chamber, since Tu
was in charge—"
     The chancellor winced.
     "Going to the torture chamber," Ka-nu continued
placidly, 'I found them about to torture little Del-
cardes, who wept and told all she had to tell, but they
did not believe her. She is only an inquisitive child,
Kull, in spite of her beauty and all. So I brought her
here.
     "Now, Kull, Delcardes spoke truth when she said
Saremes was her guest and that the cat was very an-
cient. True; she is a cat of the Old Race and wiser
than other cats, going and coming as she pleases—but
still a cat. Delcardes had spies in the palace to report
to her such small things as the secret letter which you
hid in your dagger sheath and the surplus in the trea-
sury—the courtier who reported that was one of her
spies and had discovered the surplus and told her be-
fore the royal treasurer knew. Her spies were your
most loyal retainers; the things they told her harmed
you not and aided her, whom they all love, for they
knew she meant no harm.
     "Her idea was to have Kuthulos, speaking
through the mouth of Saremes, gain your confidence
through small prophecies and facts which anyone
might know, such as warning you against Thulsa
Doom. Then, by constantly urging you to let Kulra
Thoom marry Delcardes, to accomplish what was Del-
cardes' only desire."
     "Then Kuthulos turned traitor," said Tu.
     And at that moment there was a noise at the
chamber door, and guards entered, haling between
them a tall, gaunt form, his face masked by a veil, his
arms bound.
     "Kuthulos!"
     "Aye, Kuthulos," said Ka-nu, but he seemed not
at ease, and his eyes roved restlessly. "Kuthulos, no
doubt, with his veil over his face to hide the workings
of his mouth and neck muscles as he talked through
Saremes."


     Kull eyed the silent figure which stood there like
a statue. A silence fell over the group, as if a cold
wind had passed over them. There was a tenseness in
the atmosphere. Delcardes looked at the silent figure
and her eyes widened as the guards told in terse sen-
tences how the slave had been captured while trying
to escape from the palace down a little used corridor.
     Then a tense silence fell again as Kull stepped
forward and reached forth a hand to tear the veil from
the hidden face. Through the thin fabric Kull felt two
eyes burn into his consciousness. None noticed Ka-nu
clench his hands and tense himself as if for a terrific
struggle.
     Then as Kull's hand almost touched the veil, a
sudden sound broke the breathless silence—such a
sound as a man might make by striking the floor with
his forehead or elbow. The noise seemed to come
from a wall, and Kull, crossing the room with a stride,
smote against a panel from behind which the rapping
sounded. A hidden door swung inward, revealing a
dusty corridor, upon which lay the bound and gagged
form of a man.
     They dragged him forth and, standing him up-
right, unbound him.
     "Kuthulos!" shrieked Delcardes.
     Kull stared. The man's face, now revealed, was
thin and kindly, like a teacher of philosophy and mor-
als.
     "Yes my lords and lady," he said. "That man who
wears my veil stole upon me through the secret door,
struck me down, and bound me. I lay there, hearing
him send the king to what he thought was Kull's
death, but could do nothing."
     "Then who is he?" All eyes turned towards the
veiled figure, and Kull stepped forward.
     "Lord king, beware!" exclaimed the real Kuthu-
los. "He-"
     Kull tore the veil away with one motion and re-
coiled with a gasp. Delcardes screamed and her knees
gave way; the councilors pressed backwards, faces


white, and the guards released their grasp and shrank
away, horror-struck.
     The face of the man was a bare white skull, in
whose eye sockets flamed livid fire!
     "Thulsa Doom! Aye, I guessed as much!" ex-
claimed Ka-nu.
     "Aye, Thulsa Doom, fools," the voice echoed cav-
ernously. "The greatest of all wizards and your eternal
foe, Kull of Atlantis. You have won this tilt, but be-
ware, there shall be others."
     He burst the bonds on his arms with a single con-
temptuous gesture and stalked toward the door, the
throng giving back before him.
     "You are a fool of no discernment, Kull," said he.
"Else you had never mistaken me for that other fool,
Kuthulos, even with the veil and his garments."
     Kull saw that it was so, for though the twain were
alike in height and general shape, the flesh of the
skull-faced wizard was like that of a man long dead.
     The king stood, not fearful like the others, but so
amazed at the turn of events that he was speechless.
Then even as he sprang forward like a man waking
from a dream, Brute charged with the silent ferocity
of a tiger, his curved sword gleaming. And like a
gleam of light it flashed into the ribs of Thulsa Doom,
piercing him through and through, so that the point
stood out between his shoulders.
     Brule regained his blade with a quick wrench as
he leaped back; then, crouching to strike again were it
necessary, he halted. Not a drop of blood oozed from
the wound which in a living man had been mortal.
The skull-faced one laughed.
     "Ages ago I died as men do!" he taunted. "Nay, I
shall pass to some other sphere when my time comes,
not before. I bleed not, for my veins are empty, and I
feel only a slight coldness which shall pass when the
wound closes, as it is even now closing. Stand back,
fool, your master goes; but he shall come again to you,
and you shall scream-and shrivel and die in that com-
ing! Kull, I salute you!"
     And while Brule hesitated, unnerved, and Kull


halted in undecided amazement, Thulsa Doom
stepped through the door and vanished before their
very eyes.
     "At least, Kull," said Ka-nu later, "you have won
your first tilt with the skull-faced one, as he admitted.
Next time we must be more wary, for he is a fiend
incarnate—an owner of magic black and unholy. He
hates you, for he is a satellite of the great Serpent
whose power you broke; he has the gift of illusion and
of invisibility, which only he possesses. He is grim and
terrible."
     "I fear him not," said Kull. "The next time I will
be prepared, and my answer shall be a sword thrust,
even though he be unslayable, which thing I doubt.
Brule did not find his vitals, which even a living dead
man must have. That is all."
     Then, turning to Tu: "Lord Tu, it would seem
that the civilized races also have their tabus since the
blue lake is forbidden to all save myself."
     Tu answered testily, angry because Kull had
given the happy Delcardes permission to marry whom
she desired:
     "My lord, that is no heathen tabu such as your
tribe bows to; it is a matter of statecraft, to preserve
peace between Valusia and the lake-beings, who are
magicians."
     "And we keep tabus so as not to offend unseen
spirits of tigers and eagles," said Kull. "And therein I
see no difference."
     "At any rate," said Tu, "you must beware of
Thulsa Doom, for he vanished into another dimension,
and as long as he is there he is invisible and harmless
to us; but he will come again."
     "Ah, Kull," sighed the old rascal, Ka-nu, "mine is
a hard life compared to yours; Brule and I were drunk
in Zarfhaana, and I fell down a flight of stairs, most
damnably bruising my shins. And all the while you
lounged in sinful ease on the silk of the kingship,
Kull?                                    
     Kull glared at him wordlessly and turned his
back, giving his attention to the drowsing Saremes.


     "She is not a wizard-beast, Kull," said the Spear-
slayer. "She is wise, but she merely looks her wisdom
and does not speak. Yet her eyes fascinate me with
their antiquity. A mere cat, just the same."
     "Still, Brule," said Kull, admiringly stroking her
silky fur, "still, she is a very ancient cat. Very."


The Skull of Silence
     Men still name it The Day of the King's Fear. For
Kull, king of Valusia, was only a man after all. There
was never a bolder man, but all things have their lim-
its, even courage. Of course Kull had known appre-
hension and cold whispers of dread, sudden starts of
horror, and even the shadow of unknown terror. But
these had been but starts and leapings in the shadow of
the mind, caused mainly by surprise or some loathsome
mystery or unnatural thing—more repugnance than
real fear. So real fear in him was so rare a thing that men
mark the day.
     Yet there was a time that Kull knew Fear, stark,
terrible, and unreasoning, and his marrow weakened
and his blood ran cold. So men speak of the time of
Kull's Fear, and they do not speak in scorn, nor does
Kull feel any shame. No, for as it came about, the
thing rebounded to his undying glory.
     Thus it came to be. Kull sat at ease on the Throne
of Society, listening idly to the conversation of Tu,
chief councilor; Ka-nu, ambassador from Pictdom;
Brule, Ka-nu's right-hand man; and Kuthulos the
slave, who was yet the greatest scholar in the Seven
Empires.
     "All is illusion," Kuthulos was saying. "All out-
ward manifestations of the underlying Reality, which
is beyond human comprehension, since there are no


relative things by which the finite mind may measure
the infinite. The one may underlie all, or each natural
illusion may possess a basic entity. All these things
were known to Raama, the greatest mind of all the
ages, who eons ago freed humanity from the grasp of
unknown demons and raised the race to its heights."
     "He was a mighty necromancer," said Ka-nu.
     "He was no wizard," said Kuthulos. "No chanting,
mumbling conjurer, divining from snake's livers. There
was naught of mummery about Raama. He had
grasped the First Principles; he knew the Elements
and he understood that natural forces, acted upon by
natural causes, produced natural results. He accom-
plished his apparent miracles by the exercise of his
powers in natural ways, which were as simple in their
manner to him as lighting a fire is to us, and as much
beyond our ken as our fire would have been to our ape-
ancestors."
     "Then why did he not give all his secrets to the
race?" asked Tu.
     "He knew it is not good for man to know too
much. Some villain would subjugate the whole race,
nay, the whole universe, if he knew as much as Raama
knew. Man must learn by himself and expand in soul
as he learns."
     "Yet, you say all is illusion," persisted Ka-nu,
shrewd in statecraft, but ignorant in philosophy and
science, and respecting Kuthulos or his knowledge.
"How is that? Do we not hear and see and feel?"
     "What is sight and sound?" countered the slave.
"Is not sound the absence of silence, and silence ab-
sence of sound? The absence of a thing is not material
substance. It is—nothing. And how can nothing exist?"
     "Then why are things?" asked Ka-nu like a puz-
zled child.
"They are appearances of reality. Like silence;
somewhere exists the essence of silence, the soul of
silence. Nothing that is something; an absence so ab-
solute that it takes material form. How many of you
ever heard complete silence? None of us! Always


there are some noises—the whisper of the wind, the
flutter of an insect, even the growing of the grass, or
on the desert, the murmur of the sands. But at the
centre of silence, there is no sound."
     "Raama," said Ka-nu, "long ago shut a spectre of
silence into a great castle and sealed it there for all
time."
     "Aye," said Brule. "I have seen the castle: a great
black thing on a lone hill, in a wild region of Valusia.
Since time immemorial it has been known as the Skull
of Silence."
     "Ha!" Kull was interested now. "My friends, I
would like to look upon this thing!"
     "Lord king," said Kuthulos, "it is not good to
tamper with what Raama made fast. For he was wiser
than any man. I have heard the legend that by his arts
he imprisoned a demon; not by his arts, say I, but by
his knowledge of the natural forces, and not a demon
but some element which threatened the existence of
the race.
     "The might of that element is evinced by the fact
that not even Raama was able to destroy it; he only
imprisoned it."
     "Enough," Kull gestured impatiently. "Raama has
been dead so many thousand years that it wearies me
to think on it. I ride to find the Skull of Silence; who
rides with me?"
     All of those who listened to him, and a hundred
of the Red Slayers, Valusia's mightiest war force, rode
with Kull when he swept out of the royal city in the
early dawn. They rode up among the mountains of
Zalgara, and after many days' search they came upon
a lone hill rising sombrely from the surrounding pla-
teaus, and on its summit a great stark castle, black as
doom.
     "This is the place," said Brule. "No people live
within a hundred miles of this castle, nor have they in 
the memory of man. It is shunned like a region ac-
cursed."
Kull reined his great stallion to a halt and gazed.


No one spoke, and Kull was aware of the strange, al-
most intolerable stillness. When he spoke again, every-
one started. To the king, it seemed that waves of
deadening quiet emanated from that brooding castle
on the hill. No birds sang in the surrounding land, and
no wind moved the branches of the stunted trees. As
Kull's horsemen rode up the slope, their footfalls on
the rocks seemed to tinkle drearily and far away,
dying without echo.
     They halted before the castle that crouched there
like a dark monster, and Kuthulos again essayed to
argue with the king.
     "Kull, consider! If you burst that seal, you may
loose upon the world a monster whose might and
frenzy no man can stay!"
     Kull, impatient of restraint, waved him aside. He
was in the grip of a wayward perverseness, a common
fault of kings, and though usually reasonable, he had
now made up his mind and was not to be swerved
from his course.
     "There are ancient writings on the seal, Kuthu-
los," he said. "Read them to me.
     Kuthulos unwillingly dismounted, and the rest
followed suit, all save the common soldiers who sat
their horses like bronze images in the pale sunlight.
The castle leered at them like a sightless skull, for
there were no windows whatever and only one great
door, that of iron and bolted and sealed. Apparently
the building was all in one chamber.
     Kull gave a few orders as to the disposition of the
troops and was irritated when he found he was forced
to raise his voice unseemingly in order for the com-
manders to understand him. Their answers came
dimly and indistinctly.
     He approached the door, followed by his four
comrades. There on a frame beside the door hung a
curious-appearing gong, apparently of jade, a sort of
green in color. But Kull could not be sure of the color,
for before his amazed stare it changed and shifted,
and sometimes his gaze seemed to be drawn into


depths and sometimes to glance at extreme shallowness.
Beside the gong hung a mallet of the same strange
material. He struck it lightly and then gasped, nearly
stunned by the crash of sound which followed—it was
like all earthly noise concentrated.
     "Read the writings, Kuthulos," he commanded
again, and the slave bent forward in considerable
awe, for no doubt these words had been carved by the
great Raama himself.
     "That which was, may be again," he intoned.
"Then beware, all sons of men!"
     He straightened, a look of fright on his face.
     "A warning! A warning straight from Raama!
Mark ye, Kull, mark ye!"
     Kull snorted, and drawing his sword, rent the seal
from its hold and cut through the great metal bolt. He
struck again and again, dimly aware of the compara-
tive silence with which the blows fell. The bars fell,
the door swung open.
     Kuthulos screamed. Kull reeled, stared—the
chamber was empty? No! He saw nothing, there was
nothing to see, yet he felt the air throb about him as
something came billowing from that foul chamber in
great unseen waves. Kuthulos leaned to his shoulder
and shrieked, and his words came faintly as from over
cosmic, distance.
     "The Silence! This is the soul of all Silence!"
     Sound ceased. Horses plunged and their riders
fell face first into the dust and lay clutching at their
heads with their hands, screaming without sound.
     Kull alone stood erect, his futile sword thrust in
front of him. Silence! Utter and absolute! Throbbing,
billowing waves of still horror. Men opened their
mouths and shrieked, but there was no sound!
     The Silence entered Kull's soul; it clawed at his
heart; it sent tentacles of steel into his brain. He
clutched at his forehead in torment; his skull was
bursting, shattering. In the wave of horror which en-
gulfed him, Kull saw red and colossal visions: the Si-
lence spreading out over the Earth, over the Universe!


Men died in gibbering stillness; the roar of rivers, the
crash of seas, the noise of winds faltered and ceased to
be. All Sound was drowned by the Silence. Silence,
soul-destroying, brain-shattering; blotting out all life
on Earth and reaching monstrously up into the skies,
crushing the very singing of the stars!
     And then Kull knew fear, horror, terror-
overwhelming, grisly, soul-killing. Faced by the ghast-
liness of his vision, he swayed and staggered drunk-
enly, gone wild with fear. Oh gods, for a sound, the
very slightest, faintest noise! Kull opened his mouth
like the groveling maniacs behind him, and his heart
nearly burst from bis breast in his effort to shriek.
The throbbing stillness mocked him. He smote against
the metal sill with his sword. And still the billowing
waves flowed from the chamber, clawing at him, tear-
ing at him, taunting him like a being sensate with ter-
rible Life.
     Ka-nu and Kuthulos lay motionless. Tu writhed
on his belly, his head in his hands, and squalled
soundlessly like a dying jackal. Brule wallowed in the
dust like a wounded wolf, clawing blindly at his scab-
bard.
     Kull could almost see the form of the Silence
now, the frightful Silence that was coming out of its
Skull at last, to burst the skulls of men. It twisted, it
writhed in the unholy wisps and shadows, it laughed at
him! It lived! Kull staggered and toppled, and as he
did, his outflung arm struck the gong. Kull heard no
sound, but he felt a distinct throb and jerk of the
waves about him, a slight withdrawal, involuntary,
just as a man's hand jerks back from the flame.
     Ah, old Raama left a safeguard for the race, even
in death! Kull's dizzy brain suddenly read the riddle.
The sea! The gong was like the sea, changing green
shades, never still, now deep and now shallow, never
silent.
     The sea! Vibrating, pulsing, booming day and
night; the greatest enemy of the Silence. Reeling,
dizzy, nauseated, he caught up the jade mallet. His


knees gave way, but he clung with one hand to the
frame, clutching the mallet with the other in a desper-
ate death grip. The Silence surged wrathfully about
him.
     Mortal, who are you to oppose me, who am older
than the gods? Before Life was, I was, and shall be
when Life dies. Before the invader Sound was born,
the Universe was silent and shall be again. For I shall
spread out through all the cosmos and kill Sound—kill
Sound—kill Sound—kill Sound!
     The roar of Silence reverberated through the cav-
erns of Kull's crumbling brain in abysmal chanting
monotones as he struck on the gong—again—and
again—and again!
     And at each blow the Silence gave back—inch by
inch—inch by inch. Back, back, back. Kull renewed
the force of his mallet blows. Now he could faintly
hear the faraway tinkle of the gong, over unthinkable
voids of stillness, as if someone on the other side of
the Universe were striking a silver coin with a horse-
shoe nail. At each tiny vibration of noise, the waver-
ing Silence started and shuddered. The tentacles
shortened, the waves contracted. The Silence shrank.
     Back and back and back—and back. Now the
wisps hovered in the doorway, and behind Kull, men
whimpered and wallowed to their knees, chins sag-
ging and eyes vacant. Kull tore the gong from its
frame and reeled toward the door. He was a finish
fighter; no compromise for him. There would be no
bolting the great door upon the horror again. The
whole Universe should have halted to watch a man
justifying the existence of mankind, scaling sublime
heights of glory in his supreme atonement.
     He stood in the doorway and leaned against the
waves that hung there, hammering ceaselessly. All
Hell flowed out to meet him from the frightful thing
whose very last stronghold he was invading. All of the
Silence was now in the chamber again, forced back by
the unconquerable crashings of Sound; Sound concen-
trated from all the sounds and noises of Earth and im-


prisoned by the master hand that long ago conquered
both Sound and Silence.
     And here Silence gathered all its forces for one
last attack. Hells of soundless cold and noiseless flame
whirled about Kull. Here was a thing, elemental and
real. Silence was the absence of sound, Kuthulos had
said: Kuthulos who now groveled and yammered
empty nothingnesses.
     Here was more than an absence, an absence
whose utter absence became a presence, an abstract
illusion that was a material reality. Kull reeled, blind,
stunned, dumb, almost insensible from the onslaught of
cosmic forces upon him; soul, body, and mind.
Cloaked by the whirling tentacles, the noise of the
gong died out again. But Kull never ceased. His tor-
tured brain rocked, but he thrust his feet against the
sill and shoved powerfully forward. He encountered
material resistance, like a wave of solid fire, hotter
than flame and colder than ice. Still he plunged for-
ward and felt it give—give.
     Step by step, foot by foot, he fought his way into
the chamber of death, driving the Silence before him.
Every step was screaming, demoniac torture; every
foot was ravaging Hell. Shoulders hunched, head
down, arms rising and falling in jerky rhythm, Kull
forced his way, and great drops of blood gathered on
his brow and dripped unceasingly.
     Behind him, men were beginning to stagger up,
weak and dizzy from the Silence that had invaded
their brains. They gaped at the door, where the king
fought his deathly battle for the Universe. Brule
crawled blindly forward, trailing his sword, still
dazed, and only following his stunned instinct which
bade him follow the king, though the trail led to Hell.
     Kull forced the Silence back, step by step, feeling
it grow weaker and weaker, feeling it dwindle. Now
the sound of the gong pealed out and grew and grew.
It filled the room, the Earth, the sky. The Silence
cringed before it, and as the Silence dwindled and
was forced into itself, it took hideous form that Kull
saw, yet did not see. His arm seemed dead, but with a


mighty effort he increased his blows. Now the Silence
writhed in a dark corner and shrank and shrank.
Again, a last blow! All the sound in the Universe
rushed together in one roaring, yelling, shattering, en-
gulfing burst of sound! The gong flew into a million
vibrating fragments. And Silence screamed!


By This Axe I Rule!
1. "My Songs Are Nails for a King's Coffin!"
     "At midnight the king must die!"
     The speaker was tall, lean and dark; a crooked
scar close to his mouth lent him an unusually sinister
cast of countenance. His hearers nodded, their eyes
glinting. There were four of these; a short fat man
with a timid face, weak mouth, and eyes which
bulged in an air of perpetual curiosity; a sombre
giant, hairy and primitive; a tall, wiry man in the garb
of a jester, whose flaming blue eyes flared with a
light not wholly sane; and a stocky dwarf, abnormally
broad of shoulders and long of arms.
     The first speaker smiled in a wintry sort of man-
ner. "Let us take the vow, the oath that may not be
broken—the Oath of the Dagger and the Flame! I
trust you; oh yes, of course. Still, it is better that there
be assurance for all of us. I note tremors among some
of you."
     "That is all very well for you to say, Ardyon,"
broke in the short fat man. "You are an ostracized out-
law, anyway, with a price on your head; you have all
to gain and nothing to lose, whereas we—"
     "Have much to lose and more to gain," answered
the outlaw imperturbably. "You called me down out
of my mountain fastnesses to aid you in overthrowing


a king. I have made the plans, set the snare, baited
the trap, and stand ready to destroy the prey—but I
must be sure of your support. Will you swear?"
     "Enough of this foolishness!" cried the man with
the blazing eyes. "Aye, we will swear this dawn, and
tonight we will dance down a king! 'Oh, the chant of
the chariots and the whir of the wings of the vul-
tures.' "
     "Save your songs for another time, Ridondo,"
laughed Ardyon. This is a time for daggers, not
rhymes."
     "My songs are nails for a king's coffin!" cried the
minstrel, whipping out a long, lean dagger. "Varlets,
bring hither a candle! I shall be first to swear the
oath!"
     A silent and sombre slave brought a long taper,
and Ridondo pricked his wrist, bringing blood. One
by one, the other four followed his example, holding
their wounded wrists carefully so that the blood
should not drip yet. Then gripping hands in a circle,
with the lighted candle in the centre, they turned
their wrists so that the blood drops fell upon it. While
it hissed and sizzled, they repeated:
     "I, Ardyon, a landless man, swear the deep spo-
ken and the silence covenanted, by the oath unbreak-
able."
     "And I, Ridondo, first minstrel of Valusia's
courts!" cried the minstrel.
     "And I, Ducalon, count of Komahar," spoke the
dwarf.
     "And I, Enaros, commander of The Black Legion,"
rumbled the giant.
     "And I, Kaanuub, baron of BIaal," quavered the
short fat man in a rather tremulous falsetto.
     The candle sputtered and went out, quenched by
the ruby drops which fell upon it.
     "So fades the life of our enemy," said Ardyon, re-
leasing his comrades' hands. He looked on them with
carefully veiled contempt. The outlaw knew that
oaths may be broken, even "unbreakable" ones, but
he knew also that Kaanuub, of whom he was most dis-


trustful, was superstitious. There was no point in over-
looking any safeguard, no matter how slight.
     Tomorrow,' said Ardyon abruptly, "or rather, to-
day, for it is dawn now, Brule the Spear-slayer, the
king's right hand man, departs for Grondar along with
Ka-nu, the Pictish ambassador; the Pictish escort; and
a goodly number of the Red Slayers, the king's body-
guard."
     "Yes," said Ducalon with some satisfaction, "that
was your plan, Ardyon, but I accomplished it. I have
kin high in the council of Grondar and it was a simple
matter to indirectly persuade the king of Grondar to
request the presence of Ka-nu. And of course, as Kull
honors Ka-nu above all others, he must have a suffi-
cient escort."
     The outlaw nodded.
     "Good. I have at last managed, through Enaros,
to corrupt an officer of the Red Guard. This man will
march his men away from the royal bedroom tonight
just before midnight, on a pretext of investigating
some suspicious noise or the like. The various court-
iers will have been disposed of. We will be waiting,
we five, and sixteen desperate rogues of mine whom I
have summoned from the hills, and who now hide in
various parts of the city. Twenty-one against one—"
     He laughed. Enaros nodded, Ducalon grinned,
Kaanuub turned pale; Ridondo smote his hands to-
gether and cried out ringingly:
     "By Valka, they will remember this night, who
strike the golden strings! The fall of the tyrant, the
death of the despot—what songs I shall make!"
     His eyes burned with a wild fanatical light, and
the others regarded him dubiously, all save Ardyon,
who bent his head to hide a grin. Then the outlaw
rose suddenly.
     "Enough! Get back to your places and not by
word, deed or look do you betray what is in your
minds." He hesitated, eyeing Kaanuub. "Baron, your
white face will betray you. If Kull comes to you and
looks into your eyes with those icy gray eyes of his,


you will collapse. Get you out to your country estate
and wait until we send for you. Four are enough."
     Kaanuub almost collapsed then, from a reaction
of joy; he left babbling incoherencies. The rest nod-
ded to the outlaw and departed.
     Ardyon stretched himself like a great cat and
grinned. He called for a slave, and one came, a
sombre-looking fellow whose shoulder bore the scars
of the brand that marks thieves.
     "Tomorrow," quoth Ardyon, taking the cup of-
fered him, "I come into the open and let the people of
Valusia feast their eyes upon me. For months now,
ever since the Rebel Four summoned me from my
mountains, I have been cooped in like a rat; living in
the very heart of my enemies, hiding away from the
light in the daytime, skulking, masked, through dark
alleys and darker corridors at night. Yet I have accom-
plished what those rebellious lords could not. Working
through them and through other agents, many of
whom have never seen my face, I have honeycombed
the empire with discontent and corruption. I have
bribed and subverted officials, spread sedition among
the people—in short, I, working in the shadows, have
paved the downfall of the king who at the moment
sits throned in the sun. Ah, my friend, I had almost
forgotten that I was a statesman before I was an out-
law, until Kaanuub and Ducalon sent for me."
     "You work with strange comrades," said the slave.
     "Weak men, but strong in their ways," lazily an-
swered the outlaw. "Ducalon—a shrewd man, bold,
audacious, with kin in high places; but poverty-
stricken, and his barren estates loaded with debts. En-
aros—a ferocious beast, strong and brave as a lion,
with considerable influence among the soldiers, but
otherwise useless for he lacks the necessary brains.
Kaanuub—cunning in his low way and full of petty
intrigue, but otherwise a fool and a coward; avari-
cious but possessed of immense wealth which has
been essential in my schemes. Ridondo—a mad poet,
full of harebrained schemes, brave but flighty. A


prime favorite with the people because of his songs
which tear out their heartstrings. He is our best bid
for popularity, once we have achieved our design."
     "Who mounts the throne, then?"
     "Kaanuub, of course—or so he thinks! He has a
trace of royal blood in him, the blood of that king
whom Kull killed with his bare hands. A bad mistake
of the present king. He knows there are men who still
boast descent from the old dynasty, but he lets them
live. So Kaanuub plots for the throne. Ducalon wishes
to be reinstated in favor as he was under the old re-
gime, so that he may lift his estate and title to their
former grandeur. Enaros hates Kelkor, commander of
the Red Slayers, and thinks he should have that position.
He wishes to be commander of all Valusia's armies.
As for Ridondo—bah! I despise the man and ad-
mire him at the same time. He is your true idealist. He
sees in Kull, an outlander and a barbarian, merely a
rough-footed, red-handed savage who has come out of
the sea to invade a peaceful and pleasant land. He
already idolizes the king that Kull stew, forgetting the
rogue's vile nature. He forgets the inhumanities under
which the land groaned during his reign, and he is
making the people forget. Already they sing "The La-
ment For the King" in which Ridondo lauds the saintly
villain and vilifies Kull as 'that black hearted savage.'
Kull laughs at these songs and indulges Ridondo, but
at the same time wonders why the people are turning
against him."
     "But why does Ridondo hate Kull?"
     "Because he is a poet, and poets always hate
those in power and turn to dead ages for relief in
dreams. Ridondo is a flaming torch of idealism, and
he sees himself as a hero, a stainless knight rising to
overthrow the tyrant."
     "And you?"
     Ardyon laughed and drained the goblet "I have
ideas of my own. Poets are dangerous things because
they believe what they sing, at the time. Well, I be-
lieve what I think. And I think Kaanuub will not hold
the throne overlong. A few months ago I had lost all


ambitions save to waste the villages and the caravans
as long as I lived. Now, well—now we shall see."
3. "Then I Was The Liberator—Now—"
     A room strangely barren in contrast to the rich
tapestries on the walls and the deep carpets on the
floor. A small writing table, behind which sat a man.
This man would have stood out in a crowd of a mil-
lion. It was not so much because of his unusual size,
his height and great shoulders, though these features
lent to the general effect. But his face, dark and im-
mobile, held the gaze, and his narrow gray eyes beat
down the wills of the onlookers by their icy magne-
tism. Each movement he made, no matter how slight,
betokened steel-spring muscles and brain knit to those
muscles with perfect coordination. There was nothing
deliberate or measured about his motions; either he
was perfectly at rest—still as a bronze statue—or else
he was in motion with that catlike quickness which
blurred the sight that tried to follow his movements.
Now this man rested his chin on his fists, his elbows
on the writing table, and gloomily eyed the man who
stood before him. This man was occupied in his own
affairs at the moment, for he was tightening the laces
of his breast-plate. Moreover he was abstractedly
whistling, a strange and unconventional performance,
considering that he was in the presence of a king.
     "Brule," said the king, "this matter of statecraft
wearies me as all the fighting I have done never did."
     "A part of the game, Kull," answered Brule. "You
are king; you must play the part."
     "I wish that I might ride with you to Grondar,"
said Kull enviously. "It seems ages since I had a horse
between my knees, but Tu says that affairs at home
require my presence. Curse him!
     "Months and months ago," he continued with in-
creasing gloom, getting no answer, and speaking with
freedom, "I overthrew the old dynasty and seized the


throne of Valusia, of which I had dreamed ever since
I was a boy in the land of my tribesmen. That was
easy. Looking back now, over the long hard path I
followed, all those days of toil, slaughter, and tribula-
tion seem like so many dreams. From a wild tribes-
man in Atlantis, I rose, passing through the galleys of
Lemuria—a slave for two years at the oars—then an
outlaw in the hills of Valusia, then a captive in her
dungeons, a gladiator in her arenas, a soldier in her
armies, a commander, a king!
     "The trouble with me, Brule, I did not dream far
enough. I always visualized merely the seizing of the
throne; I did not look beyond. When King Borna lay
dead beneath my feet, and I tore the crown from his
gory head, I had reached the ultimate border of my
dreams. From there, it has been a maze of illusions
and mistakes. I prepared myself to seize the throne,
not to hold it.
     "When I overthrew Borna, then people hailed me
wildly; then I was The Liberator—now they mutter
and stare blackly behind my back—they spit at my
shadow when they think I am not looking. They have
put a statue of Borna, that dead swine, in the Temple
of the Serpent, and people go and wail before him,
hailing him as a saintly monarch who was done to
death by a red-handed barbarian. When I led her ar-
mies to victory as a soldier, Valusia overlooked the
fact that I was a foreigner; now she cannot forgive
me.
     "And now, in the Temple of the Serpent, there
come to burn incense to Borna's memory, men whom
his executioners blinded and maimed, fathers whose
sons died in his dungeons, husbands whose wives
were dragged into his seraglio. Ba! Men are all
fools."
     "Ridondo is largely responsible," answered the
Pict, drawing his sword-belt up another notch. "He
sings songs that make men mad. Hang him in his jest-
er's garb to the highest tower in the city. Let him
make rhymes for the vultures."
     Kull shook his leonine head. "No, Brule, he is be-



yond my reach. A great poet is greater than any king.
He hates me; yet I would have his friendship. His
songs are mightier than my sceptre, for time and again
he has near torn the heart from my breast when he
chose to sing for me. I will die and be forgotten; his
songs will live forever."
The Pict shrugged his shoulders. "As you like;
you are still king, and the people cannot dislodge you.
The Red Slayers are yours to a man, and you have all
Pictland behind you. We are barbarians together, even
if we have spent most of our lives in this land. I go
now. You have naught to fear save an attempt at as-
sassination, which is no fear at all, considering the fact
that you are guarded night and day by a squad of the
Red Slayers."
     Kull lifted his hand in a gesture of farewell, and
the Pict clanked out of the room.
     Now another man wished his attention, remind-
ing Kull that a king's time was never his own.
     This man was a young noble of the city, one Seno
val Dor. This famous young swordsman and reprobate
presented himself before the king with the plain evi-
dence of much mental perturbation. His velvet cap was
rumpled, and as he dropped it to the floor when he
kneeled, the plume drooped miserably. His gaudy
clothing showed stains as if in his mental agony he had
neglected his personal appearance for some time.
     "King, lord king," he said in tones of deep sincerity,
"if the glorious record of my family means anything
to your majesty, if my own fealty means anything, for
Valka's sake, grant my request."
     "Name it."
     "Lord king, I love a maiden. Without her, I can-
not live. Without me, she must die. I cannot eat, I can-
not sleep for thinking of her. Her beauty haunts me
day and night—the radiant vision of her divine loveli-
ness—"
     Kull moved restlessly. He had never been a lover.
     "Then in Valka's name, marry her!"
     "Ah," cried the youth, "there's the rub! She is a
slave, Ala by name, belonging to one Ducalon, count


of Komahar. It is on the black books of Valusian law
that a noble cannot marry a slave. It has always been
so. I have moved high heaven and get only the same
reply. 'Noble and slave can never marry.' It is fearful.
They tell me that never before in the history of the
empire has a nobleman wanted to marry a slave. What
is that to me? I appeal to you as a last resort."
"Will not this Ducalon sell her?"
     "He would, but that would hardly alter the case.
She would still be a slave, and a man cannot marry his
own slave. Only as a wife do I want her. Any other
way would be a hollow mockery. I want to show her
to all the world rigged out in the ermine and jewels of
val Dor's wife! But it cannot be, unless you can help
me. She was born a slave, of a hundred generations of
slaves, and slave she will be as long as she lives, and
her children after her. And as such she cannot marry a
freeman."
     "Then go into slavery with her," suggested Kull,
eyeing the youth narrowly.
     This I desired," answered Seno, so frankly that
Kull instantly believed him. "I went to Ducalon and
said, *You have a slave whom I love; I wish to wed
her. Take me, then, as your slave so that I may be
ever near her.' He refused with horror; he would sell
me the girl or give her to me, but he would not con-
sent to enslave me. And my father has sworn on the
unbreakable oath to kill me if I should so degrade the
name of val Dor by going into slavery. No, lord king,
only you can help me."
     Kull summoned Tu and laid the case before him.
Tu, chief councilor, shook his head. "It is written in
the great iron-bound books, even as Seno has said. It
has ever been the law, and it will always be the law.
A noble may not mate with a slave."
     "Why may I not change that law?" queried KulL
     Tu laid before him a tablet of stone whereon the
law was engraved.
     "For thousands of years this law has been. See,
Kull, on the stone it was carved by the primal law-
makers, so many centuries ago a man might count all


night and still not number them all. Not you, or any
other king may alter it"
     Kull felt suddenly the sickening, weakening feel-
.ing of utter helplessness which had begun to assail
him of late. Kingship was another form of slavery, it
seemed to him; he had always won his way by carving
a path through his enemies with his great sword. How
could he prevail against solicitous and respectful
friends who bowed and flattered and were adamant
against anything new; who barricaded themselves and
their customs with tradition and antiquity and quietly
defied him to change anything?
     "Go," he said with a weary wave of his hand. "I
am sorry, but I cannot help you."
     Seno val Dor wandered out of the room, a broken
man, if hanging head and bent shoulders, dull eyes
and dragging steps mean anything.
3. "I Thought You a Human Tiger!"
     A cool wind whispered through the green wood-
lands. A silver thread of a brook wound among great
tree boles, whence hung large vines and gayly fes-
tooned creepers. A bird sang, and the soft late sum-
mer sunlight was sifted through the interlocking
branches to fall in gold and black velvet patterns of
shade and light on the grass-covered earth. In the
midst of this pastoral quietude, a little slave girl lay
with her face between her soft white arms, and wept
as if her heart would break. The birds sang, but she
was deaf; the brooks called her, but she was dumb;
the sun shone, but she was blind—all the universe was
a black void in which only pain and tears were real.
     So she did not hear the light footfall nor see the
tall, broad-shouldered man who came out of the
bushes and stood above her. She was not aware of his
presence until he knelt and lifted her, wiping her eyes
with hands as gentle as a woman's.
     The little slave girl looked into a dark immobile


face, with cold, narrow gray eyes which Just now were
strangely soft. She knew this man was not a Valusian
from his appearance, and in these troublous times it
was not a good thing for little slave girls to be caught
in the lonely woods by strangers, especially foreigners,
but she was too miserable to be afraid, and, besides,
the man looked kind.
      "What's the matter, child?" he asked, and because
a woman in extreme grief is likely to pour out her sor-
rows to anyone who shows interest and sympathy, she
whimpered, "Oh, sir, I am a miserable girl. I love a
young nobleman—"
      "Seno val Dor?"
      "Yes sir," she glanced at him in surprise. "How
did you know? He wishes to marry me, and today, hav-
ing striven in vain elsewhere for permission, he went
to the king himself. But the king refused to aid him."
      A shadow crossed the stranger's dark face. "Did
Seno say the king refused?"
      "No, the king summoned the chief councilor and
argued with him awhile, but gave in. Oh," she
sobbed, "I knew it would be useless! The laws of Val-
usia are unalterable, no matter how cruel or unjust.
They are greater than the king."
      The girl felt the muscles of the arms supporting
her swell and harden into great iron cables. Across the
stranger's face passed a bleak and hopeless expression.
      Aye," he muttered, half to himself, "the laws of
Valusia are greater than the king."
      Telling her troubles had helped her a little, and
she dried her eyes. Little slave girls are used to trou-
bles and to suffering, though this one had been un-
usually kindly used all her life.
      "Does Seno hate the king?" asked the stranger.
      She shook her head. "He realizes the king is help-
less."
      "And you?"
      "And I what?"
      "Do you hate the king?"
      Her eyes flared. "I! Oh, sir, who am I, to hate the
king? Why, why, I never thought of such a thing."


     "I am glad," said the man heavily. "After all, little
one, the king is only a slave like yourself, locked with
heavier chains."
     "Poor man," she said, pityingly, though not ex-
actly understanding; then she flamed into wrath. "But
I do hate the cruel laws which the people follow! Why
should laws not change? Time never stands still! Why
should people today be shackled by laws which were
made for our barbarian ancestors thousands of years
ago—" She stopped suddenly and looked fearfully
about.
     "Don't tell," she whispered, laying her head in an
appealing manner on her companion's shoulder. "It is
not fit that a woman, and a slave girl at that, should
so unashamedly express herself on such public mat-
ters. I will be spanked if my mistress or my master
hears of it."
The big man smiled. "Be at ease, child. The king
himself would not be offended by your sentiments;
indeed, I believe that he agrees with you."
     "Have you seen the king?" she asked, her childish
curiosity overcoming her misery for the moment
"Often."
     "And is he eight feet tall," she asked eagerly, "and
has he horns under his crown, as the common people
say?"
     "Scarcely," he laughed. "He lacks nearly two feet
of answering your description as regards height; as for
size, he might be my twin brother. There is not an
inch difference in us."
"Is he as kind as you?"
"At times, when he is not goaded to frenzy by a
statecraft which he cannot understand and by the va-
garies of a people which can never understand him."
"Is he in truth a barbarian?"
     "In very truth; he was born and spent his early
boyhood among the heathen barbarians who inhabit
the land of Atlantis. He dreamed a dream and ful-
filled it. Because he was a great fighter and a savage
swordsman, because he was crafty in actual battle,
because the barbarian mercenaries in the Valusian


army loved him, he became king. Because he is a war-
rior and not a politician, because his swordsmanship
helps him now not at all, his throne is rocking beneath
him."
     "And he is very unhappy?"
     "Not all the time," smiled the big man. "Some-
times when he slips away alone and takes a few hours
holiday by himself among the woods, he is almost
happy. Especially when he meets a pretty little girl
like-"
     The girl cried out in sudden terror, slipping to
her knees before him. "Oh, sire, have mercy! I did not
know; you are the king!"
     "Don't be afraid." Kull knelt beside her again and
put an arm about her, feeling her tremble from head
to foot. "You said I was kind—''
     "And so you are, sire," she whispered weakly. "I—
I thought you were a human tiger, from what men
said, but you are kind and tender—b-but—you are k-
king, and I—"
     Suddenly, in a very agony of confusion and em-
barrassment, she sprang up and fled, vanishing in-
stantly. The realization that the king whom she had
only dreamed of seeing at a distance some day, was
actually the man to whom she had told her pitiful
woes, overcame her with an abasement and embar-
rassment which was almost physical terror.
     Kull sighed and rose. The affairs of the palace
were calling him back, and he must return and wres-
tle with problems concerning the nature of which he
had only the vaguest idea, and concerning the solving
of which he had no idea at all.
4. "Who Dies First?"
     Through the utter silence which shrouded the
corridors and halls of the palace, twenty figures stole.
Their stealthy feet, cased in soft leather shoes, made
no sound either on thick carpet or bare marble tile.


The torches which stood in niches along the halls
gleamed redly on bared daggers, broadsword blade,
and keen-edged axe.
     "Easy, easy all!" hissed Ardyon, halting for a mo-
ment to glance back at his followers. "Stop that cursed
loud breathing, whoever it is! The officer of the night
guard has removed all the guards from these halls, ei-
ther by direct order or by making them drunk, but we
must be careful. Lucky it is for us that those cursed
Picts—the lean wolves—are either reveling at the con-
sulate or riding to Grondar. Hist! back—here come the
guard!"
     They crowded back behind a huge pillar which
might have hidden a whole regiment of men, and
waited. Almost immediately, ten men swung by; tall
brawny men in red armor, who looked like iron stat-
ues. They were heavily armed, and the faces of some
showed a slight uncertainty. The officer who led
them was rather pale. His face was set in hard lines,
and he lifted a hand to wipe sweat from his brow as
the guard passed the pillar where the assassins hid.
He was young and this betraying of a king came not
easy to him.
     They clanked by and passed on up the corridor.
     "Good!" chuckled Ardyon. "He did as I bid; Kull
sleeps unguarded! Haste, we have work to do! If they
catch us killing him, we are undone, but a dead king
is easy to make a mere memory. Haste!"
Aye, haste!" cried Ridondo.
     They hurried down the corridor with reckless
speed and stopped before a door.
     "Here!" snapped Ardyon. "Enaros—break me
open this door!"
     The giant launched his mighty weight against the
panel. Again—this time there was a rending of bolts, a
crash of wood, and the door staggered and burst in-
ward.
     "In!" shouted Ardyon, on fire with the spirit of
murder.
"In!" roared Ridondo. "Death to the tyrant-"
They halted short. Kull faced them—not a naked


Kull, roused out of deep sleep, mazed and unarmed to
be butchered like a sheep, but a Kull wakeful and fero-
cious, partly clad in the armor of a Red Slayer, with
a long sword in his hand.
     Kull had risen quietly a few minutes before, un-
able to sleep. He had intended to ask the officer of the
guard into his room to converse with him awhile, but
on looking through the spy-hole of the door, had seen
him leading his men off. To the suspicious brain of
the barbarian king had leaped the assumption that he
was being betrayed. He never thought of calling the
men back, because they were supposedly in the plot,
too. There was no good reason for this desertion. So
Kull had quietly and quickly donned the armor he
kept at hand, nor had he completed this act when Ena-
ros first hurtled against the door.
     For a moment the tableau held—the four rebel
noblemen at the door and the sixteen desperate out-
laws crowding close behind them—held at bay by the
terrible-eyed silent giant who stood in the middle of
the royal bedroom, sword at the ready.
     Then Ardyon shouted, "In and slay him! He is
one to twenty, and he has no helmet!"
     True, there had been lack of time to put on the
helmet, nor was there now time to snatch the great
shield from where it hung on the wall. Be that as it
may, Kull was better protected than any of the assas-
sins except Enaros and Ducalon, who were in full ar-
mor with their vizors closed.
     With a yell that rang to the roof, the killers
flooded into the room. First of all was Enaros. He
came in like a charging bull, head down, sword low
for the disemboweling thrust. And Kull sprang to
meet him like a tiger charging a bull, and all the
king's weight and mighty strength went into the arm
that swung the sword. In a whistling arc the great
blade flashed through the air to crash down on the
commander's helmet. Blade and helmet clashed and
flew to pieces together, and Enaros rolled lifeless on
the floor, while Kull bounded back, gripping the
bladeless hilt.


     "Enaros!" he snarled as the shattered helmet dis-
closed the shattered head; then the rest of the pack
were upon him. He felt a dagger point rake along his
ribs and flung the wielder aside with a swing of his
left arm. He smashed his broken hilt square between
another's eyes and dropped him senseless and bleed-
ing to the floor.
     "Watch the door, four of you!" screamed Ardyon,
dancing about the edge of that whirlpool of singing
steel, for he feared that Kull, with his great weight
and speed, might crash through their midst and es-
cape. Four rogues drew back and ranged themselves
before the single door. And in that instant Kull leaped
to the wall and tore therefrom an ancient battle-axe
which had hung there for possibly a hundred years.
Back to the wall, he faced them for a moment;
then leaped among them. No defensive fighter was
Kull! He always carried the fight to the enemy. A
sweep of the axe dropped an outlaw to the floor with
a severed shoulder—the terrible backhand stroke
crushed the skull of another. A sword shattered
against his breastplate—else he had died. His concern
was to protect his uncovered head and the spaces be-
tween breastplate and backplate, for Valusian armor
was intricate, and he had not had time to fully arm
himself. Already he was bleeding from wounds on the
cheek and the arms and legs, but so swift and deadly
was he, and so much the fighter, that even with the
odds so greatly on their side, the assassins hesitated to
leave an opening. Moreover, their own numbers ham-
pered them.
     For one moment they crowded him savagely,
raining blows; then they gave back and ringed him,
thrusting and parrying—a couple of corpses on the
floor gave mute evidence of the folly of their first
plan.
     "Knaves!" screamed Ridondo in a rage, flinging
off his slouch cap, his wild eyes glaring. "Do ye shrink
from the combat? Shall the despot live? Out on it!"
     He rushed in, thrusting viciously; but Kull, recog-
nizing him, shattered his sword with a tremendous


short chop and, with a push, sent him reeling back to
sprawl on the floor. The king took in his left arm the
sword of Ardyon, and the outlaw only saved his life
by ducking Kull's axe and bounding backward. One
of the bandits dived at Kull's legs, hoping to bring
him down in that manner, but after wrestling for a
brief instant at what seemed a solid iron tower, he
glanced up Just in time to see the axe falling, but not
in time to avoid it. In the interim, one of his comrades
had lifted a sword with both hands and hewed down-
ward with such downright sincerity that he cut through
Kull's shoulder plate on the left side, and wounded the
shoulder beneath. In an instant the king's breastplate
was full of blood.
     Ducalon, flinging the attackers to right and left in
his savage impatience, came plowing through and
hacked savagely at Kull's unprotected head. Kull
ducked and the sword whistled above, shaving off a
lock of hair; ducking the blows of a dwarf like Ducalon
is difficult for a man of Kull's height.
     Kull pivoted on his heel and struck from the side,
as a wolf might leap, in a wide level arc; Ducalon
dropped with his entire left side caved in and the
lungs gushing forth.
     "Ducalon!" Kull spoke the word rather breath-
lessly. "I'd know that dwarf in Hell-"
     He straightened to defend himself from the mad-
dened rush of Ridondo, who charged in wide open, 
armed only with a dagger. Kull leaped back, axe high.
     "Ridondo!" his voice rang sharply. "Back! I would
not harm you—"
     "Die, tyrant!" screamed the mad minstrel, hurling
himself headlong on the king. Kull delayed the blow
he was loath to deliver until it was too late. Only
when he felt the bite of steel in his unprotected side
did he strike, in a frenzy of blind desperation.
     Ridondo dropped with a shattered skull, and Kull
reeled back against the wall, blood spurting through
the fingers which gripped his wounded side.
     'In, now, and get him!" yelled Ardyon, preparing
to lead the attack.


     Kull placed his back to the wall and lifted his
axe. He made a terrible and primordial picture. Legs
braced far apart, head thrust forward, one red hand
clutching at the wall for support, the other gripping
the axe on high, while the ferocious features were
frozen in a snarl of hate and the icy eyes blazed
through the mist of blood which veiled them. The
men hesitated; the tiger might be dying, but he was
still capable of dealing death.
     "Who dies first?" snarled Kull through smashed
and bloody lips.
     Ardyon leaped as a wolf leaps, halted almost in
mid-air with the unbelievable speed which character-
ized him, and fell prostrate to avoid the death that
was hissing toward him in the form of a red axe. He
frantically whirled his feet out of the way and rolled
clear just as Kull recovered from his missed blow and
struck again; this time the axe sank four inches into
the polished wood floor close to Ardyon's revolving
legs.
     Another desperado rushed at this instant, fol-
lowed half-heartedly by his fellows. The first villain
had figured on reaching Kull and killing him before
he could get his axe out of the floor, but he miscalcu-
lated the king's speed, or else he started his rush a
second too late. At any rate, the axe lurched up and
crashed down, and the rush halted abruptly as a red-
dened caricature of a man was catapulted back
against their legs.
     At that moment a hurried clanking of feet!
founded down the hall, and the rogues in the door
raised a shout, "Soldiers coming!"
     Ardyon cursed, and his men deserted him like
rats leaving a sinking ship. They rushed out into the
hall—or limped, splattering blood—and down the cor-
ridor a hue and cry was raised and pursuit started.
     Save for the dead and dying men on the floor,
Kull and Ardyon stood alone in the royal bedroom.
Kull's knees were buckling, and he leaned heavily
against the wall, watching the outlaw with the eyes of


a dying wolf. In this extremity, Ardyon's cynical phi-
losophy did not escape him.
     "All seems to be lost, particularly honor," he mur-
mured. "However, the king is dying on his feet, and—"
Whatever other cogitation might have passed through
his mind is not known, for at that moment he ran
lightly at Kull just as the king was employing his axe
arm to wipe the blood from his half-blind eyes. A man
with a sword at the ready can thrust quicker than a
wounded man, out of position, can strike with an axe
that weights his weary arm like lead.
     But even as Ardyon began his thrust, Seno val
Dor appeared at the door and flung something
through the air which glittered, sang, and ended its
flight in Ardyon's throat. The outlaw staggered,
dropped his sword, and sank to the floor at Kull's feet,
flooding them with the flow of a severed jugular;
mute witness that Seno's war-skill included knife-
throwing as well. Kull looked down bewilderedly at
the dead outlaw, and Ardyon's dead eyes stared back
in seeming mockery, as if the owner still maintained
the futility of kings and outlaws, of plots and counter-
plots.
     Then Seno was supporting the king, the room was
flooded with men-at-arms in the uniform of the great
val Dor family, and Kull realized that a little slave girl
was holding his other arm.
     "Kull, Kull, are you dead?" val Dor's face was
very white.
     "Not yet," the king spoke huskily. "Staunch this
wound in my left side; if I die 'twill be from it. It is
deep—Ridondo wrote me a deathly song there!—but
the rest are not mortal. Cram stuff into it for the pres-
ent; I have work to do."
     They obeyed wonderingly, and as the flow of
blood ceased, Kull, though literally bled white al-
ready, felt some slight access of strength. The palace
was fully aroused now. Court ladies, lords, men-at-
arms, councilors, all swarmed about the place, bab-
bling. The Red Slayers were gathering, wild with
rage, ready for anything. Jealous of the fact that others


had aided their king. Of the young officer who had
commanded the door guard, he had slipped away in
the darkness, and neither then nor later was he in ev-
idence, though earnestly sought after.
     Kull, still keeping stubbornly to his feet, grasping
his bloody axe with one hand and Seno's shoulder
with another, singled out Tu, who stood wringing his
hands, and ordered, "Bring me the tablet whereon is
engraved the law concerning slaves."
"But lord king—"
     "Do as I say!" yelled Kull, lifting the axe, and Tu
scurried to obey.
     As he waited, and the court women flocked
about him, dressing his wounds and trying gently but
vainly to pry his iron fingers from about the bloody
axe handle, Kull heard Seno's breathless tale.
     "—Ala heard Kaanuub and Ducalon plotting—she
had stolen into a little nook to cry over her—our trou-
bles, and Kaanuub came on his way to his country
estate. He was shaking with terror for fear plans
might go awry, and he made Ducalon go over the plot
with him again before he left, so he might know there
was no flaw in it.
     "He did not leave until it was late in the evening,
and only then did Ala find a chance to steal away and
come to me. But it is a long way from Ducalon's city
house to the house of val Dor, a long way for a little
girl to walk, and though I gathered my men and came
instantly, we almost arrived too late."
Kull gripped his shoulder.
"I will not forget."
     Tu entered with the law tablet, laying it rever-
ently on the table.
     Kull shouldered aside all who stood near him and
stood up alone.
     "Hear, people of Valusia," he exclaimed, upheld
by the wild beast vitality which was his. "I stand
here—the king. I am wounded almost unto death, but
I have survived mass wounds.
"Hear you! I am weary of this business. I am no
king, but a slave! I am hemmed in by laws, laws,


laws! I cannot punish malefactors nor reward my
friends because of law—custom—tradition. By Valka, I
will be king in fact as well as in name!"
     "Here stand the two who have saved my life.
Hence forward they are free to marry, to do as they
like."
     Seno and Ala rushed into each other's arms with a
glad cry.
"But the law!" screamed Tu.
"I am the law!" roared Kull, swinging up his axe;
it flashed downward and the stone tablet flew into a
hundred pieces. The people clenched their hands in
horror, waiting dumbly for the sky to fall.
     Kull reeled back, eyes blazing. The room whirled
before his dizzy gaze.
     "I am king, state, and law!" be roared, and seizing
the wand-like sceptre which lay near, he broke it in
two and flung it from him. "This shall be my sceptre!"
The red axe was brandished aloft, splashing the pallid
nobles with drops of blood. Kull gripped the slender
crown with his left hand and placed his back against
the wall; only that support kept him from falling, but
in his arms was still the strength of lions.
     "I am either king or corpse!" he roared, his
corded muscles bulging, his terrible eyes blazing. "If
you like not my kingship—come and take this crown!"
     The corded left arm held out the crown, the right
gripping the menacing axe above it.              
     "By this axe I rule! This is my sceptre! I have
struggled and sweated to be the puppet king you
wished me to be—to rule your way. Now I use mine
own way. If you will not fight, you shall obey. Laws
that are just shall stand, laws that have outlived their
times I shall shatter as I shattered that one. I am
king!"
     Slowly the pale-faced noblemen and frightened
women knelt, bowing in fear and reverence to the
blood-stained giant who towered above them with his
eyes ablaze.
"I am king!"


The Striking of The Gong
     Somewhere in the hot red darkness there began a
throbbing. A pulsating cadence, soundless but vibrant
with reality sent out long rippling tendrils that flowed
through the breathless air. The man stirred, groped
about with blind hands, and sat up. At first it seemed
to him that he was floating on the even and regular
waves of a black ocean, rising and falling with monot-
onous regularity which hurt him physically somehow.
He was aware of the pulsing and throbbing of the air
and he reached out his hands as though to catch the
elusive waves. But was the throbbing in the air about
him, or in the brain inside his skull? He could not un-
derstand and a fantastic thought came to him—a feel-
ing that he was locked inside his own skull.
     The pulsing dwindled, centralized, and he held
his aching head in his hands and tried to remember.
Remember what?
     "This is a strange thing," he murmured. "Who or
what am I? What place is this? What has happened
and why am I here? Have I always been here?"
     He rose to his feet and sought to look about him.
Utter darkness met his glance. He strained his eyes,
but no single gleam of light met them. He began to
walk forward, haltingly, hands out before him, seek-
ing light as instinctively as a growing plant seeks it
     "This is surely not everything," he mused. "There


must be something else—what is different from this?/
Light! I know—1 remember Light, though I do not re-
member what Light is. Surely I have known a differ-
ent world than this."
     Far away a faint gray light began to glow. He
hastened toward it. The gleam widened, until it was
as if he were striding down a long and ever widening
corridor. Then he came out suddenly into dim star-
light and felt the wind cold in his face.
     "This is light," he murmured, "but this is not all
yet."
     He felt and recognized a sensation of terrific
height. High above him, even with his eyes, and be-
low him, flashed and blazed great stars in a majestic
glittering cosmic ocean. He frowned abstractedly as
he gazed at these stars.
     Then he was aware that he was not alone. A tall
vague shape loomed before him in the starlight. His
hand shot instinctively to his left hip, then fell away
limply. He was naked and no weapon hung at his
side.
     The shape moved nearer and he saw that it was a
man, apparently a very ancient man, though the fea-
tures were indistinct and illusive in the faint light.
     "You are new come here?" said this figure in a
clear deep voice which was much like the chiming of
a jade gong. At the sound a sudden trickle of memory
began in the brain of the man who heard the voice.
     He rubbed his chin in a bewildered manner.
     "Now I remember," said he. "I am Kull, king of
Valusia—but what am I doing here, without garments
or weapons?"
     "No man can bring anything through the Door
with him," said the other cryptically. "Think, Kull of
Valusia, know you not how you came?"
     "I was standing in the doorway of the council
chamber," said Kull dazedly, "and I remember that
the watchman on the outer tower was striking the
gong to denote the hour—then suddenly the crash of
the gong merged into a wild and sudden flood of
shattering sound. All went dark and red sparks


flashed for an instant before my eyes. Then I awoke
in a cavern or a corridor of some sort, remembering
nothing."
     "You passed through the Door; it always seems
dark."
     "Then I am dead? By Valka, some enemy must
have been lurking among the columns of the palace
and struck me down as I was speaking with Brule, the
Pictish warrior."
     "I have not said you were dead," answered the
dim figure. "Mayhap the Door is not utterly closed.
Such things have been."
     "But what place is this? Is it Paradise or Hell?
This is not the world I have known since birth. And
those stars—I have never seen them before. Those con-
stellations are mightier and more fiery than I ever
knew in life."
     "There are worlds beyond worlds, universes
within and without universes," said the ancient. "You
are upon a different planet than that upon which you
were born; you are in a different universe, doubtless
in a different dimension,"
     "Then I am certainly dead."
     "What is death but a traversing of eternities and a
crossing of cosmic oceans? But I have not said that
you are dead."
     "Then where in Valka's name am I?" roared Kull,
his short stock of patience exhausted.
     "Your barbarian brain clutches at material actual-
ities," answered the other tranquilly. "What does it
matter where you are, or whether you are dead, as
you call it? You are a part of that great ocean which is
Life, which washes upon all shores, and you are as
much a part of it in one place as in another, and as
sure to eventually flow back to the Source of it, which
gave birth to all Life. As for that, you are bound to
Life for all Eternity as surely as a tree, a rock, a bird
or a world is bound. You call leaving your tiny planet,
quitting your crude physical form—death!"
     "But I still have my body."
     "I have not said that you are dead, as you name


it. As for that, you may be still upon your little planet,
as far as you know. Worlds within worlds, universes
within universes. Things exist too small and too large
for human comprehension. Each pebble on the
beaches of Valusia contains countless universes within
itself, and itself as a whole is as much a part of the
great plan of all universes, as is the sun you know.
Your universe, Kull of Valusia, may be a pebble on
the shore of a mighty kingdom.
     "You have broken the bounds of material limita-
tions. You may be in a universe which goes to make
up a gem on the robe you wore on Valusia's throne or
that universe you knew may be in the spiderweb
which lies there on the grass near your feet. I tell you,
size and space and time are relative and do not really
exist."
"Surely you are a god?" said Kull curiously.
"The mere accumulation of knowledge and the ac-
quiring of wisdom does not make a god," answered
the other rather impatiently. "Look!" A shadowy hand
pointed toward the great blazing gems which were
the stars.
     Kull looked and saw that they were changing
swiftly. A constant weaving, an incessant changing of
design and pattern was taking place.
     "The 'everlasting' stars change in their own time,
as swiftly as the races of men rise and fade. Even as
we watch, upon those which are planets, beings are
rising from the slime of the primeval, are climbing up
the long slow roads to culture and wisdom, and are
being destroyed with their dying worlds. All life and a
part of life. To them it seems billions of years; to us,
but a moment. All life."
     Kull watched, fascinated, as huge stars and
mighty constellations blazed and waned and faded,
while others equally as radiant took their places, to be
in turn supplanted.
     Then suddenly the hot red darkness flowed over
him again, blotting out all the stars. As through a
thick fog, he heard a faint familiar clashing.
     Then he was on his feet, reeling. Sunlight met his


eyes, the tall marble pillars and walls of a palace, the
wide curtained windows through which the sunlight
flowed like molten gold. He ran a swift, dazed hand
over his body, feeling his garments and the sword at
his side. He was bloody; a red stream trickled down
his temple from a shallow cut. But most of the blood
on his limbs and clothing was not his. At his feet in a
horrid crimson wallow lay what had been a man. The
clashing he had heard ceased, re-echoing.
     "Brule! What is this? What happened? Where have
I been?"
     "You had nearly been on a journey to old King
Death's realms," answered the Pict with a mirthless
grin as he cleansed his sword. "That spy was lying in
wait behind a column and was on you like a leopard
as you turned to speak to me in the doorway. Whoever
plotted your death must have had great power to so
send a man to his certain doom. Had not the sword
turned in his hand and struck glancingly instead of
straight, you had gone before him with a cleft skull,
instead of standing here now mulling over a mere
flesh wound."
     "But surely," said Kull, "that was hours agone."
     Brule laughed.
     "You are still mazed, lord king. From the time he
leaped and you fell, to the time I slashed the heart out
of him, a man could not have counted the fingers of
one hand. And during the time you were lying in his
blood and yours on the floor, no more than twice that
time elapsed. See, Tu has not yet arrived with ban-
dages and he scurried for them the moment you went
down."
     "Aye, you are right," answered Kull. "I cannot un-
derstand—but just before I was struck down I heard
the gong sounding the hour, and it was still sounding
when I came to myself,
"Brule, there is no such thing as time nor space;
for I have travelled the longest journey of my life, and
have lived countless millions of years during the strik-
ing of the gong."


Swords of The Purple Kingdom

I. "'Valusia Plots Behind Closed Doors"
     A sinister quiet lay like a shroud over the ancient
city of Valusia. The heat waves danced from roof to
shining roof and shimmered against the smooth mar-
ble walls. The purple towers and golden spires were
softened in the faint haze. No ringing hoofs on the'
wide paved streets broke the drowsy silence, and the
few pedestrians who appeared did what they had to
do hastily and vanished indoors again. The city
seemed like a realm of ghosts.
     Kull, king of Valusia, drew aside the filmy cur-
tains and gazed over the golden window sill, out over
the court with sparkling fountains and trim hedges^
and pruned trees, over the high wall and at the blank
windows of houses which metnis glance.
     "All Valusia plots behind closed doors, Brule," he
grunted.
     His companion, a dark-faced, powerful warrior of
medium height, grinned hardly. ''You are too suspi-
cious, Kull. The heat drives most of them indoors."
     "But they plot," reiterated Kull. He was a tall,
broad-shouldered barbarian, with the true fighting
build: wide shoulders, mighty chest, and lean flanks.
Under heavy black brows his cold gray eyes brooded.
His features betrayed his birthplace, for Kull the usurp-
er was an Atlantean.


     True, they plot. When did the people ever fail to
plot, no matter who held the throne? And they might
be excused now, Kull."
     "Aye," the giant's brow clouded, "I am an alien.
The first barbarian to press the Valusian throne since
the beginning of time. When I was a commander of
her forces they overlooked the accident of my birth.
But now they hurl it into my teeth—by looks and
thoughts, at least."
     "What do you care? I am an alien also. Aliens rule
Valusia now, since the people have grown too weak
and degenerate to rule themselves. An Atlantean sits on
her throne, backed by all the Picts, the empire's most
ancient and powerful allies; her court is filled with
foreigners; her armies with barbarian mercenaries;
and the Red Slayers—well, they are at least Valusians,
but they are men of the mountains who look upon
themselves as a different race."
     Kull shrugged his shoulders restlessly.
     "I know what the people think, and with what
aversion and anger the powerful old Valusian families
must look on the state of affairs. But what would you
have? The empire was worse under Borna, a native
Valusian and a direct heir of the old dynasty, than it
has been under me. This is the price a nation must
pay for decaying: the strong young people come in
and take possession, one way or another. I have at
least rebuilt the armies, organized the mercenaries
and restored Valusia to a measure of her former inter-
national greatness. Surely it is better to have one bar-
barian on the throne holding the crumbling bands
together, than to have a hundred thousand riding red-
handed through the city streets. Which is what would
have happened by now, had it been left to King
Borna. The kingdom was splitting under his feet, inva-
sion threatened on all sides, the heathen Grondarians
were ready to launch a raid of appalling magnitude—
     "Well, I killed Borna with my bare hands that
wild night when I rode at the head of the rebels. That
bit of ruthlessness won me some enemies, but within
six months I had put down anarchy and all counter-


rebellions, had welded the nation back into one
piece, had broken the back of the Triple Federation,
and crushed the power of the Grondarians. Now Valu-
sia dozes in peace and quiet, and between naps plots
my overthrow. There has been no famine since my
reign, the storehouses are bulging with grain, the trad-
ing ships ride heavy with cargo, the merchants' purses
are full, the people are fat-bellied—but still they mur-
mur and curse and spit on my shadow. What do they
want?"
     The Pict grinned savagely and with bitter mirth.
"Another Borna! A red-handed tyrant! Forget their in-
gratitude. You did not seize the kingdom for their
sakes, nor do you hold it for their benefit. Well, you
have accomplished a lifelong ambition, and you are
firmly seated on the throne. Let them murmur and
plot. You are king."
     Kull nodded grimly. "I am king of this purple
kingdom! And until my breath stops and my ghost
goes down the long shadow road, I will be king. What
now?"
     A slave bowed deeply, "Nalissa, daughter of the
great house of bora Ballin, desires audience, most
high majesty."
     A shadow crossed the king's brow. "More suppli-
cation in regard to her damnable love affair," he sighed
to Brule. "Mayhap you'd better go." To the slave, "Let
her enter the presence."                          
Kull sat in a chair padded with velvet and gazed
at Nalissa. She was only some nineteen years of age;
and clad in the costly but scanty fashion of Valusian
noble ladies, she presented a ravishing picture, the
beauty of which even the barbarian king could appre-
ciate. Her skin was a marvelous white, due partly to
many baths in milk and wine, but mainly to a heritage
of loveliness. Her cheeks were tinted naturally with a
delicate pink, and her lips were full and red. Under
delicate black brows brooded a pair of deep soft eyes,
dark as mystery, and the whole picture was set off by
a mass of curly black hair which was partly confined
by slim golden band.


     Nalissa knelt at the feet of the king, and clasping
his sword-hardened fingers in her soft slim hands, she
looked up into his eyes; her own eyes luminous and
pensive with appeal. Of all the people in the kingdom,
Kull preferred not to look into the eyes of Nalissa. He
saw there at times a depth of allure and mystery. She
knew something of her powers, the spoiled and pam-
pered child of aristocracy, but her full powers she lit-
tle guessed because of her youth. But Kull, who was
wise in the ways of men and women, realized with
some uneasiness that with maturity Nalissa was bound
to become a terrific power in the court and in the
land, either for good or bad.
     "But your majesty," she was wailing now, like a
child begging for a toy, "please let me marry Dalgar
of Farsun. He has become a Valusian citizen, he is
high in favor at court, as you yourself say. Why—"
     "I have told you," said the king with patience, "it
is nothing to me whether you marry Dalgar, Brule, or
the devil! But your father does not wish you to marry
this Farsunian adventurer and—"
     "But you can make him let me!" she cried.
     "The house of bora Ballin I number among my
staunchest supporters," answered the Atlantean. 'And
Murom bora Ballin, your father, among my closest
friends. When I was a friendless gladiator, he be-
friended me. He lent me money when I was a com-
mon soldier, and he espoused my cause when I struck
for the throne. Not to save this right hand of mine
would I force him into an action to which he is so
violently opposed, or interfere in his family affairs."
     Nalissa had not yet learned that some men cannot
be moved by feminine wiles. She pleaded, coaxed,
and pouted. She kissed Kull's hands, wept on his
breast, perched on his knee and argued, all much to
his embarrassment, but to no avail. Kull was sincerely
sympathetic, but adamant. To all her appeals and
blandishments he had one answer: that it was none of
his business, that her father knew better what she
needed, and that he, Kull, was not going to interfere.
At last Nalissa gave up and left the presence with


bowed head and dragging steps. As she emerged from
the royal chamber, she met her father coming in. Mu-
rom bora Ballin, guessing his daughter's purpose in
visiting the king, said nothing to her, but the look he
gave her spoke eloquently of punishment to come.
The girl climbed miserably into her sedan chair, feel-
ing as if her sorrow was too heavy a load for any one
girl to bear. Then her inner nature asserted itself. Her
dark eyes smoldered with rebellion, and she spoke a
few quick words to the slaves who carried her chair.
     Count Murom stood before his king meanwhile,
and his features were frozen into a mask of formal def-
erence. Kull noted that expression, and it hurt him.
Formality existed between himself and all his subjects
and allies except the Pict, Brule; and the ambassador,
Ka-nu; but this studied formality was a new thing in
Count Murom, and Kull guessed at the reason.
     "Your daughter was here, Count," he said ab-
ruptly.
     "Yes, your majesty," the tone was impassive and
respectful.
     "You probably know why. She wants to marry
Dalgar of Farsun."
     The count made a stately inclination of his head.
"If your majesty so wishes, he has but to say the
word." His features froze into harder lines.
     Kull, stung, rose and strode across the chamber to
the window, where once again he gazed out at the 
drowsing city. Without turning, he said, "Not for half
my kingdom would I interfere with your family af-
fairs, nor force you into a course unpleasant to you."
     The count was at his side in an instant, his for-
mality vanished, his fine eyes eloquent. "Your maj-
esty, I have wronged you in my thoughts—1 should
have known-" He made as if to kneel, but Kull re-
strained him.
     The king grinned. "Be at ease. Count. Your pri-
vate affairs are your own. I cannot help you, but you
can help me. There is conspiracy in the air; I smell
danger as in my early youth I sensed the nearness of a
tiger in the jungle or a serpent in the high grass."


     "My spies have been combing the city, your maj-
esty," said the count, his eyes kindling at the prospect
of action. "The people murmur as they will murmur
under any ruler—but I have recently come from Ka-nu
at the consulate, and he told me to warn you that out-
side influence and foreign money were at work. He
said he knew nothing definite, but his Picts wormed
some information from a drunken servant of the Ve-
rulian ambassador—vague hints at some coup that
government is planning."
     Kull grunted. "Verulian trickery is a byword. But
Gen Dala, the Verulian ambassador, is the soul of
honor."
     "So much better a figurehead. If he knows noth-
ing of what his nation plans, so much the better will
he serve as a mask for their doings."
     "But what would Verulia gain?" asked Kull.
     "Gomlah, a distant cousin of King Gorna, took ref-
uge there when you overthrew the old dynasty. With
you slain, Valusia would fall to pieces. Her armies
would become disorganized, all her allies except the
Picts would desert her, the mercenaries whom only
you can control would turn against her, and she would
be an easy prey for the first powerful nation who
might move against her. Then, with Gomlah as an
excuse for invasion, as a puppet on Valusia's throne—"
     "I see," grunted Kull. "I am better at battle than
in council, but I see. So—the first step must be my
removal, eh?"
     "Yes, your majesty."
     Kull smiled and flexed his mighty arms. "After
all, this ruling grows dull at times." His fingers ca-
ressed the hilt of the great sword which he wore at all
times.
     "Tu, chief councilor to the king, and Dondal, his
nephew," sang out a slave, and two men entered the
presence.
     Tu, chief councilor, was a portly man of medium
height and late middle life, who looked more like a
merchant than a councilor. His hair was thin, his face
lined, and on his brow rested a look of perpetual sus-


picion. Tu's years and honors rested heavily on him.
Originally of plebian birth, he had won his way by
sheer power of craft and intrigue. He had seen three
kings come and go before Kull, and the strain told on
him.
     His nephew Dondal was a slim, foppish youth
with keen dark eyes and a pleasant smile. His chief
virtue lay in the fact that he kept a discreet tongue in
his head and never repeated what he heard at court.
For this reason he was admitted into places not even
warranted by his close kinship to Tu.
     "Just a small matter of state, your majesty," said
Tu. "This permit for a new harbor on the western
coast. Will your majesty sign?"
     Kull signed his name; Tu drew from inside his
bosom a signet ring attached to a small chain which
he wore around his neck, and affixed the seal. This
ring was the royal signature, in effect. No other ring
in the world was exactly like it, and Tu wore it about
his neck, waking or sleeping. Outside those in the
royal chamber at the moment, not four men in the
world knew where the ring was kept.
2. Mystery
     The quiet of the day had merged almost imper-
ceptibly into the quiet of night. The moon had not yet
risen, and the small silver stars gave little light, as if
their radiance was strangled by the heat which still
rose from the earth.
     Along a deserted street a single horse's hoofs
clanged hollowly. If eyes watched from the blank
windows, they gave no sign that betrayed that anyone
knew Dalgar of Farsun was riding through the night
and the silence.
     The young Farsunian was fully armed, his lithe
athletic body was completely encased in light armor,
and a morion was on his head. He looked capable of
handling the long, slim jewel-hilted sword at his side,


and the scarf which crossed his steel-clad breast, with its
red rose, detracted nothing from the picture of man-
hood he presented.
     Now as he rode he glanced at a crumpled note in
his hand, which, half unfolded, disclosed the follow-
ing message in the characters of Valusia; "At mid-
night, my beloved, in the Accursed Gardens beyond
the walls. We will fly together."
     A dramatic note; Dalgar's handsome lips curved
slightly as he read. Well, a little melodrama was par-
donable in a young girl, and the youth enjoyed a
touch himself. A thrill of ecstasy shook him at the
thought of that rendezvous. By dawn he would be far
across the Verulian border with his bride-to-be; then
let Count Murom bora Ballin rave; let the whole Val-
usian army follow their tracks. With that much start,
he and Nalissa would be in safety. He felt high and
romantic; his heart swelled with the foolish heroics of
youth. It was hours until midnight, but—he nudged
his horse with an armored heel and turned aside to
take a shortcut through some dark narrow streets.
     "Oh, silver moon and a silver breast—" be
hummed under his breath the flaming love songs of
the mad, dead poet Ridondo; then his horse snorted
and shied. In the shadow of a squalid doorway, a dark
bulk moved and groaned.
     Drawing his sword, Dalgar slipped from the sad-
dle and bent over he who groaned.
     Bending very close, he made out the form of a
man. He dragged the body into a comparatively
lighter area, noting that he was still breathing. Some-
thing warm and sticky adhered to his hand.
     The man was portly and apparently old, since his
hair was sparse and his beard shot with white. He was
clad in the rags of a beggar, but even in the darkness
Dalgar could tell that his hands were soft and white
under their grime. A nasty gash on the side of his
head seeped blood, and his eyes were closed. He
groaned from time to time.
     Dalgar tore a piece from his sash to staunch the
wound, and in so doing, a ring on his finger became


entangled in the unkempt beard. He jerked impa-
tiently—the beard came away entirely, disclosing the
smooth-shaven, deeply lined face of a man in late
middle life. Dalgar cried out and recoiled. He
bounded to his feet, bewildered and shocked. A mo-
ment he stood, staring down at the groaning man;
then the quick rattle of hoofs on a parallel street re-
called him to life.
     He ran down a side alley and accosted the rider.
This man pulled up with a quick motion, reaching for
his sword as he did so. The steel-shod hoofs of his
steed struck fire from the flagstones as the horse set
back on his haunches.
     "What now? Oh, it's you, Dalgar."
     "Brule!" cried the young Farsunian. "Quick! Tu,
the chief councilor, lies in yonder side street, sense-
less—mayhap murdered!"
     The Pict was off his horse in an instant, sword
flashing into his hand. He flung the reins over his
mounts head and left the steed standing there like a
statue while he followed Dalgar on a run.
     Together they bent over the stricken councilor
while Brule ran an experienced hand over him.
     "No fracture, apparently," grunted the Pict. "Can't
tell for sure, of course. Was his beard off when you
found him?"
     "No, I pulled it off accidentally—"
     "Then likely this is the work of some thug who
knew him not I'd rather think that. If the man who
struck him down knew he was Tu, there's black
treachery brewing in Valusia. I told him he'd come to
grief prowling around the city disguised this way—but
you cannot tell a councilor anything. He insisted that
in this manner he learned all that was going on; kept
his finger on the empire's pulse, as he said."
     "But if it were a cutthroat," said Dalgar, "why did
they not rob him? Here is his purse with a few copper
coins in it—and who would seek to rob a beggar?"
     The Spear-slayer swore. "Right. But who in Val-
ka's name could know he was Tu? He never wore the
same disguise twice, and only Dondal and a slave


helped him with it. And what did they want, whoever
struck him down? Oh well, Valka—he'll die while we
stand here jabbering. Help me get him on my horse."
     With the chief councilor lolling drunkenly in the
saddle, upheld by Brule's steel-sinewed arms, they
clattered through the streets to the palace. They were
admitted by a wondering guard, and the senseless
man was carried to an inner chamber and laid on a
couch, where he was showing signs of recovering con-
sciousness, under the ministrations of the slaves and
court women.
     At last he sat up and gripped his head, groaning.
Ka-nu, Pictish ambassador and the craftiest man in
the Kingdom, bent over him.
     "Tu! Who smote you?"
     "I don't know," the councilor was still dazed. "I
remember nothing."
     "Had you any documents of importance about
you?"
     "No."
     "Did they take anything from you?"
Tu began fumbling at his garments uncertainly;
his clouded eyes began to clear, then flared in sudden
apprehension. "The ring! The royal signet ring! It is
gone!"
     Ka-nu smote his fist into his palm and cursed
soulfully.
     "This comes of carrying the thing with you! I
warned you! Quick, Brule, Kelkor—Dalgar; foul trea-
son is afoot! Haste to the king's chamber.'
     In front of the royal bedchamber, ten of the Red
Slayers, men of the king's favorite regiment, stood at
guard. To Ka-nu's staccato questions, they answered
that the king had retired an hour or so ago, that no
one had sought entrance, and that they had heard no
sound.
     Ka-nu knocked on the door. There was no re-
sponse. In a panic he pushed against the door. It was
locked from within.
     "Break that door down!" he screamed, his face
white, his voice unnatural with unaccustomed strain.


     Two of the Red Slayers, giants in size, hurled
their full weight against the door, but it, being of
heavy oak braced with bronze bands, held. Brule
pushed them away and attacked the massive portal
with his sword. Under the heavy blows of the keen
edge, wood and metal gave way, and in a few mo-
ments Brule shouldered through the shreds and
rushed into the room. He halted short with a stifled
cry, and, glaring over his shoulder, Ka-nu clutched
wildly at his beard. The royal bed was mussed as if it
had been slept in, but of the king there was no sign.
The room was empty, and only the open window gave
hint of any clue.
     "Sweep the streets!" roared Ka-nu. "Comb the
city! Guard all the gates! Kelkor, rouse out the full
force of the Red Slayers. Brule, gather your horsemen
and ride them to death if necessary. Haste! Dalgar—"
     But the Farsunian was gone. He had suddenly re-
membered that the hour of midnight approached, and
of far more importance to him than the whereabouts
of any king was the fact that Nalissa bora Ballin was
awaiting him in the Accursed Gardens two miles be-
yond the city wall.
3. The Sign of the Seal
     That night Kull had retired early. As was his cus-
tom, he halted outside the door of the royal bedcham-
ber for a few minutes to chat with the guard, his old
regimental mates, and exchange a reminiscence or so
of the days when he had ridden in the ranks of the
Red Slayers. Then, dismissing his attendants, he en-
tered the chamber, flung back the covers of his bed,
and prepared to retire. Strange proceedings for a king,
no doubt, but Kull had been long used to the rough
life of a soldier, and before that he had been a savage
tribesman. He had never gotten used to having things
done for him, and in the privacy of his bedchamber
he would at least attend to himself.


     But just as he turned to extinguish the candle
which illumined his room, he heard a slight tapping at
the window sill. Hand on sword, he crossed the room
with the easy, silent tread of a great panther and
looked out. The window opened on the inner grounds
of the palace; the hedges and trees loomed vaguely in
the semi-darkness of the starlight. Fountains glim-
mered vaguely, and be could not make out the forms
of any of the sentries who paced those confines.
     But here at his elbow was mystery. Clinging to
the vines which covered the wall was a small wizened
fellow who looked much like the professional beggars
which swarmed the more sordid of the city's streets.
He seemed harmless with his thin limbs and monkey
face, but Kull regarded him with a scowl.
     "I see I shall have to plant sentries at the very
foot of my window, or tear these vines down," said
the king. "How did you get through the guards?"
     The wizened one put his skinny finger across
puckered lips for silence; then with a simian-like dex-
terity, slid a hand through the bars. He silently
handed Kull a piece of parchment. The long unrolled
it and read: "King Kull: If you value your life, or the
welfare of the kingdom, follow this guide to the place
where he shall lead you. Tell no one. Let yourself be
not seen by the guards. The regiments are honey-
combed with treason, and if you are to live and hold
the throne, you must do exactly as I say. Trust the
bearer of this note implicitly." It was signed "Tu,
Chief Councilor of Valusia" and was sealed with the
royal signet ring.
     Kull knit his brows. The thing had an unsavory
look—but this was Tu's handwriting—he noted the pe-
culiar, almost imperceptible, quirk in the last letter of
Tu's name, which was the councilor's trademark, so to
speak. And then the sign of the seal, the seal which
could not be duplicated. Kull sighed.
     "Very well, he said. "Wait until I arm myself."
     Dressed and clad in light chain-mail armor, Kull
turned again to the window. He gripped the bars, one
in each hand, and cautiously exerting his tremendous


strength, felt them give until even his broad shoulders
could slip between them. Clambering out, he caught
the vines and swung down them with as much ease as
was displayed by the small beggar who preceded him.
     At the foot of the wall, Kull caught his companion's
arm.
"How did you elude the guard?" he whispered.
     "To such as accosted me, I showed the sign of the
royal seal."
     "That will scarcely suffice now," grunted the
king. "Follow me; I know their routine."
     Some twenty minutes followed of lying in wait
behind a hedge or tree until a sentry passed, of dodg-
ing quickly into the shadows and making short, steal-
thy dashes. At last they came to the outer wall. Kull
took his guide by the ankles and lifted him until his
fingers clutched the top of the wall. Once astride it,
the beggar reached down a hand to aid the king; but
Kull, with a contemptuous gesture, backed off a few
paces, took a short run, and bounding high in the air,
caught the parapet with one upflung hand, swinging
his great form up across the top of the wall with an
almost incredible display of strength and agility.
     The next instant the two strangely incongruous
figures had dropped down on the opposite side and
faded into the gloom.
     
4. "'Here I Stand at Bay!"
     Nalissa, daughter of the house of bora Ballin, was
nervous and frightened. Upheld by her high hopes
and her sincere love, she did not regret her rash ac-
tions of the last few hours, but she earnestly wished
for the coming of midnight and her lover.
     Up to the present, her escapade had been easy. It
was not easy for anyone to leave the city after night-
fall, but she had ridden away from her father's house
Just before sundown, telling her mother that she was


going to spend the night with a girl friend. It was well
for her that women were allowed unusual freedom in
the city of Valusia, and were not kept hemmed in ser-
aglios and veritable prison houses as they were in the
Eastern empires; a custom which survived the Flood.
     Nalissa had ridden boldly through the eastern
gate, and then made directly for the Accursed Gar-
dens, two miles east of the city. These Gardens had
once been the pleasure resort and country estate of a
nobleman, but tales of grim debauches and ghastly
rites of devil worship began to get abroad; and finally
the people, maddened by the regular disappearance of
their children, had descended on the Gardens in a
frenzied mob and had hanged the prince to his own
portals. Combing the Gardens, the people had found
foul things, and in a flood of repulsion and horror had
partially destroyed the mansion and the summer
houses, the arbors, the grottoes, and the walls. But
built of imperishable marble, many of the buildings
had resisted both the sledges of the mob and the cor-
rosion of time. Now, deserted for a hundred years, a
miniature jungle had sprung up within the crumbling
walls and rank vegetation overran the ruins.
     Nalissa concealed her steed in a ruined summer
house, and seated herself on the cracked marble floor,
settling down to wait. At first it was not bad. The gen-
tle summer sunset flooded the land, softening all
scenes with its mellow gold. The green sea about her,
shot with white gleams which were marble walls and
crumbling roofs, intrigued her. But as night fell and
the shadows merged, Nalissa grew nervous. The night
wind whispered grisly things through the branches
and the broad palm leaves and the tall grass, and the
stars seemed cold and far away. Legends and tales
came back to her, and she fancied that above the
throb of her pounding heart she could hear the rustle
of unseen black wings and the mutter of fiendish
voices.
     She prayed for midnight and Dalgar. Had Kull
seen her then he would not have thought of her


strange deep nature, nor the signs of her great future;
he would have seen only a frightened little girl who
passionately desired to be taken up and cuddled.
     But the thought of leaving never entered her
mind.
     Time seemed as if it would never pass, but pass it
did somehow. At last a faint glow betrayed the rising
of the moon, and she knew the hour was closing to
midnight
     Then suddenly there came a sound which
brought her to her feet, her heart flying into her
throat Somewhere in the supposedly deserted Gar-
dens there crashed into the silence a shout and a clang
of steel. A short, hideous scream chilled the blood in
her veins; then silence fell in a suffocating shroud.
     Dalgar—Dalgar! The thought beat like a hammer
in her dazed brain. Her lover had come and had fallen
foul of someone—or something.
     She stole from her hiding place, one hand over
her heart which seemed about to burst through her
ribs. She stole along a broken pave, and the whispering
palm leaves brushed against her like ghostly fingers.
About her lay a pulsating gulf of shadows, vibrant
and alive with nameless evil. There was no sound.
     Ahead of her loomed the ruined mansion; then
without a sound, two men stepped into her path. She
screamed once; then her tongue froze with terror. She
tried to flee, but her legs would not work, and before
she could move, one of the men had caught her up
and tucked her under his arm as if she were a tiny
child.
     "A woman," he growled in a language which Nal-
issa barely understood, and which she recognized as
Verulian. "Lend me your dagger and I'll—"
     "We haven't time now," interposed the other,
speaking in the Valusian tongue. Toss her in there
with him, and we'll finish them both together. We
must get Phondar here before we kill him; he wants to
question him a little."
     "Small use," rumbled the Verulian giant, striding
after his companion. "He won't talk—I can tell you that


-he's opened his mouth only to curse us, since we cap-
tured him."
     "Nalissa, tucked ignominiously under her captor's
arm, was frozen with fear, but her mind was working.
Who was this "him" they were going to question and
then kill? The thought that it must be Dalgar drove
her own fear from her mind, and flooded her soul
with a wild and desperate rage. She began to kick and
struggle violently and was punished with a resound-
ing smack that brought tears to her eyes and a cry of
pain to her lips. She lapsed into a humiliated submis-
sion and was presently tossed unceremoniously
through a shadowed doorway, to sprawl in a dishev-
eled heap on the floor.
     "Hadn't we better tie her?" queried the giant.
     "What use? She can't escape. And she can't untie
him. Hurry up; we've got work to do."
     Nalissa sat up and looked timidly about. She was
in a small chamber, the corners of which were
screened with spider webs. Dust was deep on the
floor, and fragments of marble from the crumbling
walls littered it. Part of the roof was gone, and the
slowly rising moon poured light through the aperture.
By its light she saw a form on the floor, close to the
wall. She shrank back, her teeth sinking into her lip
with horrified anticipation; then she saw with a deliri-
ous sensation of relief that the man was too large to
be Dalgar. She crawled over to him and looked into
his face. He was bound hand and foot and gagged;
above the gag, two cold gray eyes looked up into hers.
     "King KulI!" Nalissa pressed both hands against
her temples while the room reeled to her shocked and
astounded gaze. The next instant her slim, strong fin-
gers were at work on the gag. A few minutes of ago-
nized effort, and it came free. Kull stretched his jaws
and swore in his own language, considerate, even in
that moment, of the girl's tender ears.
     "Oh, my lord, how came you here?" The girl was
wringing her hands.
     "Either my most trusted councilor is a traitor or I
am a madman!" growled the giant. "One came to me


with a letter in Tu's handwriting, bearing even the
royal seal. I followed him, as instructed, through the
city and to a gate, the existence of which I had never
known. This gate was unguarded and apparently un-
known to any but they who plotted against me. Out-
side the gate, one awaited us with horses, and we
came full speed to these damnable gardens. At the
outer edge we left the horses, and I was led, like a
blind, dumb fool for sacrifice, into this ruined man-
sion.                                 
     "As I came through the door, a great man-net fell
on me, entangling my sword arm and binding my
limbs, and a dozen rogues sprang on me. Well, may-
hap my taking was not so easy as they had thought
Two of them were swinging on my already encum-
bered right arm so I could not use my sword, but I
kicked one in the side and felt his ribs give way, and
bursting some of the net's strands with my left hand, I
gored another with my dagger. He had his death
thereby and screamed like a lost soul as he gave up
the ghost.
     "But by Valka, there were too many of them. At
last they had me stripped of my armor, —Nalissa saw
the king wore only a sort of loincloth—"and bound as
you see me. The devil himself could not break these
strands; no, scant use to try to untie the knots. One of
the men was a seaman, and I know of old the sort of
knots they tie. I was a galley slave once, you know."
     "But what can I do?" wailed the girl, wringing
her hands.
     "Take a heavy piece of marble and flake off a
sharp sliver," said Kull swiftly. "You must cut these
ropes—"
     She did as he bid and was rewarded with a long
thin piece of stone, the concave edge of which was as
keen as a razor with a jagged edge.
     "I fear I will cut your skin, sire," she apologized
as she began work.
     "Cut skin, flesh, and bone, but get me free!"
snarled Kull, his eyes blazing. "Trapped like a blind
fool! Oh, imbecile that I am! Valka, Honan, and Ho-


tath! But let me get my hands on the rogues—how
came you here?"
     "Let us talk of that later," said Nalissa rather
breathlessly. "Just now there is time for haste."
     Silence fell as the girl sawed at the stubborn
strands, giving no heed to her own tender hands,
which were soon lacerated and bleeding. Slowly,
strand by strand, the cords gave way; but there were
still enough to hold the ordinary man helpless when a
heavy step sounded outside the door.
     Nalissa froze. A voice spoke, "He is within, Phon-
dar, bound and gagged. With him is some Valusian
wench that we caught wandering about the Gardens."
     "Then be on watch for some gallant," spoke an-
other voice, whose harsh, grating tones were those of
a man accustomed to being obeyed. "Likely she was
to meet some fop here. You—"
     "No names, no names, good Phondar," broke in a
silky Valusian voice. "Remember our agreement; until
Gomlah mounts the throne, I am simply—the Masked
One."
     "Very good," grunted the Verulian. "You have
done a good night's work, Masked One. None but you
could have done it, for only you knew how to obtain
the royal signet. Only you could so closely counterfeit
Tu's writing—by the way, did you kill the old fellow?"
     "What matter? Tonight, or the day Gomlah
mounts the throne, he dies. The matter of most im-
portance is that the king lies helpless in our power."
     Kull was racking his brain trying to place the
hauntingly familiar voice of the traitor. And Phon-
dar—his face grew grim. A deep conspiracy indeed, if
Verulia must send the commander of her royal armies
to do her foul work. The king knew Phondar well, and
had aforetime entertained him in the palace.
     "Go in and bring him out," said Phondar. "We
will take him to the old torture chamber. I have ques-
tions to ask of him."
     The door opened, admitting one man: the giant
who had captured Nalissa. The door closed behind
him and he crossed the room, giving scarcely a glance


to the girl who cowered in a corner. He bent over the
bound king, took him by leg and shoulder to lift him
bodily; there came a sudden loud snap as Kull, throw-
ing all his iron strength into one convulsive wrench,
broke the remaining strands which bound him.
     He had not been tied long enough for all circula-
tion to be cut off and his strength affected thereby.
As a python strikes, his hands shot to the giant's
throat; shot, and gripped like a steel vise.
     The giant went to his knees. One hand flew to
the fingers at his throat, the other to his dagger. His
fingers sank like steel into Kull's wrist, the dagger
flashed from its sheath; then his eyes bulged, his
tongue sagged out. The fingers fell away from the
king's wrist, and the dagger slipped from a nerveless
grip. The Verulian went limp, his throat literally
crushed in that terrible grip. Kull, with one terrific
wrench, broke his neck and, releasing him, tore the
sword from its sheath. Nalissa had picked up the dag-
ger.
     The combat had taken only a few flashing sec-
onds and had caused no more noise than might have
resulted from a man lifting and shouldering a great
weight.
     "Hasten!" called Phondar's voice impatiently from
beyond the door, and Kull, crouching tigerlike just in-
side, thought quickly. He knew that there were at
least a score of conspirators in the Gardens. He knew
also, from the sound of voices, that there were only
two or three outside the door at the moment. This
room was not a good place to defend. In a moment
they would be coming in to see what occasioned the
delay. He reached a decision and acted promptly.
     He beckoned the girl. "As soon as I have gone
through the door, run out likewise and go up the stairs
which lead away to the left." She nodded, trembling,
and he patted her slim shoulder reassuringly. Then he
whirled and flung open the door.
     To the men outside, expecting the Verulian giant
with the helpless king on his shoulders, appeared an
apparition which was dumbfounding in its unexpected-



ness. Kull stood in the door; Kull, half-naked, crouch-
ing like a great human tiger, his teeth bared in a snarl
of battle fury, his eyes blazing. His sword blade
whirled like a wheel of silver in the moonlight.
     Kull saw Phondar, two Verulian soldiers, a slim
figure in a black mask—a flashing instant, and then he
was among them and the dance of death was on. The
Verulian commander went down in the king's first
lunge, his head cleft to the teeth in spite of his helmet.
The Masked One drew and thrust, his point raking
Kull's cheek; one of the soldiers drove at the king with
a spear, was parried, and the next instant lay dead
across his master. The remaining soldier broke and
ran, yelling lustily for his comrades. The Masked One
retreated swiftly before the headlong attack of the
king, parrying and guarding with an almost uncanny
skill. He had no time to launch an attack of his own;
before the whirlwind ferocity of Kull's charge he had
only time for defense. Kull beat against his blade like
a blacksmith on an anvil, and again and again it
seemed as though the long Verulian steel must inevi-
tably cleave that masked and hooded head, but always
the long slim Valusian sword was in the way, turning
the blow by an inch or stopping it within a hair's-
breadth of the skin, but always just enough.
     Then Kull saw the Verulian soldiers running
through the foliage and heard the clang of their weap-
ons and their fierce shouts. Caught here in the open,
they would get behind him and slit him like a rat. He
slashed once more, viciously, at the retreating Valu-
sian, and then, backing away, turned and ran fleetly
up the stairs, at the top of which Nalissa already
stood.
     There he turned at bay. He and the girl stood on
a sort of artificial promontory. A stair led up, and a
stair had once led down the other way, but now the
back stair had long since crumbled away. Kull saw
that they were in a cul-de-sac. The walls were cut
deep with ornate carvings but- Well, thought Kull,
here we die. But here many others die, too.
     The Verulians were gathering at the foot of the


stair, under the leadership of the mysterious masked
Valusian. Kull took a fresh grip on his sword hilt and
flung back his head, an unconscious reversion to days
when he had worn a lion-like mane of hair.       
     Kull had never feared death; he did not fear it
now, and, except for one consideration, he would have
welcomed the clamor and madness of battle as an old
friend, without regrets. This consideration was the girl
who stood beside him. As he looked at her trembling
form and white face, he reached a sudden decision.
     He raised his hand and shouted, "Ho, men of Ve-
rulia! Here I stand at bay. Many shall fall before I
die. But promise me to release the girl, unharmed, and
I will not lift a hand. You may then kill me like a
sheep."
     Nalissa cried in protest, and the Masked One
laughed. "We make no bargains with one already
doomed. The girl also must die, and I make no prom-
ises to be broken. Up, warriors, and take him!"
     They flooded the stair like a black wave of death,
swords sparkling like frosty silver in the moonlight.
One was far in advance of his fellows, a huge warrior
who bore on high a great battle-axe. Moving quicker
than Kull had anticipated, this man was on the land-
ing in an instant. Kull rushed in, and the axe de-
scended. He caught the heavy shaft with his left hand
and checked the downward rush of the weapon in
mid-air—a feat few men could have done—and at the
same time struck in from the side with his right, a
sweeping hammerlike blow which sent the long sword
crunching through armor, muscle, and bone, and left
the broken blade wedged in the spinal column.
     At the same instant, he released the useless hilt
and tore the axe from the nerveless grasp of the dying
warrior, who pitched back down the stairs. And Kull
laughed shortly and grimly.
     The Verulians hesitated on the stair, and, below,
the Masked One savagely urged them on. They were
inclined to be rebellious.
     "Phondar is dead," shouted one. "Shall we take


orders from this Valusian? This is a devil and not a
man who faces us! Let us save ourselves!"
     "Fools!" the Masked One's voice rose in a ferine
shriek. "Don't you see that your own safety lies in
slaying the king? If you fail tonight, your own govern-
ment will repudiate you and will aid the Valusians in
hunting you down! Up, fools! You will die, some of
you, but better for a few to die under the king's axe
than for all to die on the gibbet! Let one man retreat
down these stairs—that man will I kill!" And the long,
slender sword menaced them.
     Desperate, afraid of their leader, and recognizing
the truth of his words, the score or more of warriors
turned their breasts to Kull's steel. As they massed for
what must necessarily be the last charge, Nalissa's at-
tention was attracted by a movement at the base of
the wall. A shadow detached itself from the rest of the
shadows and moved up the sheer face of the wall,
climbing like an ape and using the deep carvings for
foot and hand holds. This side of the wall was in
shadow, and she could not make out the features of
the man; moreover, he wore a heavy morion which
shaded his face.
     Saying nothing to Kull, who stood at the landing,
his axe poised, she stole over to the edge of the wall,
half concealing herself behind a ruin of what had
once been a parapet. Now she could see that the man
was in full armor, but still she could not make out his
features. Her breath came fast, and she raised the
dagger, fighting fiercely to overcome a tendency of
nausea.
     Now a steel-clad arm hooked up over the edge—she
sprang as quickly and silently as a tigress and struck
full at the unprotected face suddenly upturned in the
moonlight. And even as the dagger fell, and she was
unable to cheek the blow, she screamed, wildly and
agonizedly. For in that fleeting second, she recog-
nized the face of her lover, Dalgar of Farsun.


5. The Battle of the Stair
     Dalgar, after unceremoniously leaving the dis-
tracted presence of Ka-nu, ran to his horse and rode
hard for the eastern gate. He had heard Ka-nu give
orders to close the gates and let no one out, and he
rode like a madman to beat that order. It was a hard
matter to get out at night anyway, and Dalgar, having
learned that the gates were not guarded tonight by
the incorruptible Red Slayers, had planned to bribe
his way out. Now he depended upon the audacity of
his scheme.
     All in a lather of sweat, he halted at the eastern
gate and shouted, "Unbolt the gate! I must ride to the
Verulian border tonight! Quickly! The king has van-
ished! Let me through and then guard the gate! In the
name of the king!"
     Then, as the soldier hesitated, "Haste, fools! The
king may be in mortal danger! Hark!"
     Far out across the city, chilling hearts with sud-
den nameless dread, sounded the deep tones of the
great bronze Bell of the King, which booms only
when the king is in peril. The guards were electrified.
They knew Dalgar was high in favor as a visiting no-
ble. They believed what he said, so, under the impet-
uous blast of his will, they swung the great iron gates
wide, and he shot through like a thunderbolt, to van-
ish instantly in the outer darkness.
     As Dalgar rode, he hoped no great harm had
come to Kull, for he liked the bluff barbarian far
more than he had ever liked any of the sophisticated
and bloodless kings of the Seven Empires. Had it
been possible, he would have aided in the search. But
Nalissa was waiting for him, and already he was late.
     As the young nobleman entered the Gardens, he
had a peculiar feeling that here in the heart of desola-
tion and loneliness there were many men. An instant
later he heard a clash of steel, the sound of many run-



ning footsteps, and a fierce shouting in a foreign
tongue. Slipping off his horse and drawing his sword,
he crept through the underbrush until he came in
sight of the ruined mansion. There a strange sight
burst upon his vision. At the top of the crumbling
staircase stood a half-naked, blood-stained giant
whom he recognized as the king of Valusia. By his
side stood a girl—a half-stifled cry burst from Dalgar's
lips. Nalissa! His nails bit into the palms of his
clenched hand. Who were those men in dark clothing
who swarmed up the stairs? No matter. They meant
death to the girl and to Kull. He heard the king chal-
lenge them and offer his life for Nalissa's, and a flood
of gratitude engulfed him. Then he noted the deep
carvings on the wall nearest him. The next instant he
was climbing, to die by the side of the king, protect-
ing the girl he loved.
     He had lost sight of Nalissa, and now as he
climbed he dared not take the time to look up for her.
This was a slippery and treacherous task. He did not
see her until he caught hold of the edge to pull him-
self up; then he heard her scream and saw her hand
falling toward his face, gripping a gleam of silver. He
ducked and took the blow on his morion; the dagger
snapped at the hilt, and Nalissa collapsed in his arms
the next moment.
     Kull had whirled, axe high, at her scream; now he
paused. He recognized the Farsunian, and even in
that instant he read between the lines. He knew why
the couple were here and grinned with real enjoy-
ment.
     A second the charge had halted, as the Verulians
had noted the second man on the landing; now they
came on again, bounding up the steps in the moon-
light, blades gleaming, eyes wild with desperation.
Kull met the first with an overhand smash that
crushed helmet and skull; then Dalgar was at his side,
and his blade licked out and into a Verulian throat.
Then began the battle of the stair, since immortalized
by singers and poets.
     Kull was there to die and to slay before he died.


He gave scant thought to defense. His axe played a
wheel of death about him, and with each blow there
came a crunch of steel and bone, a spurt of blood, a
gurgling cry of agony. Bodies choked the wide stair,
but still the survivors came, clambering over the gory
forms of their comrades.
     Dalgar had little opportunity to thrust or cut. He
had seen in an instant that his best task lay in protect-
ing Kull, who was a born killer, but who, in his armor-
less condition, was likely to fall at any instant.
     So Dalgar wove a web of steel about the king,
bringing into play all the sword skill that was his.
Again and again his flashing blade turned a point
from Kull's heart; again and again his mail-clad fore-
arm intercepted a blow that else had killed. Twice
he took on his own helmet slashes meant for the king's
bare head.
     It is not easy to guard another man and yourself
at the same time. Kull was bleeding from cuts on the
face and breast, from a gash above the temple, a stab
in the thigh, and a deep wound in the left shoulder; a
thrusting pike had rent Dalgar's cuirass and wounded
him in the side, and he felt his strength ebbing. A last
mad effort of their foes and the Farsunian was over-
thrown. He fell at Kull's feet, and a dozen points
prodded for his life. With a lion-like roar, Kull cleared
a space with one mighty sweep of his red axe and
stood astride the fallen youth. They closed in-
There burst on Kull's ears a crash of horses' hoofs
and the Accursed Gardens were flooded with wild ri-
ders, yelling like wolves in the moonlight. A storm of
arrows swept the stairs, and men howled, pitching
headlong to lie still, or to tear at the cruel, deeply
embedded shafts. The few whom Kull's axe and the
arrows had left fled down the stairs to be met at the
bottom by the whistling curved swords of Brule's
Picts. And there they died, fighting to the last, those
bold Verulian warriors—cat's-paws for their false king,
sent out on a dangerous and foul mission, disowned
by the man who sent them out, and branded forever
with infamy. But they died like men.


     But one did not die there at the foot of the stairs.
The Masked One had fled at the first sound of hoofs,
and now he shot across the Gardens riding a superb
horse. He had almost reached the outer wall when
Brule, the Spear-slayer, dashed across his path. There
on the promontory, leaning on his bloody axe, Kull
saw them fight beneath the moon.
     The Masked One had abandoned his defensive
tactics. He charged the Pict with reckless courage,
and the Spear-slayer met him, horse to horse, man to
man, blade to blade. Both were magnificent horse-
men. Their steeds, obeying the touch of the bridle, the
nudge of the knee, whined, reared, and spun. But
through all their motions, the whistling blades never
lost touch of each other. Brule, unlike his tribesmen,
used the slim straight sword of Valusia. In reach and
speed there was little difference between them, and
Kull, watching, again and again caught his breath
and bit his lip as it seemed Brule would fall before an
unusually vicious thrust.
     No crude hacking and slashing for these seasoned
warriors. They thrust and countered, parried and
thrust again. Then suddenly Brule seemed to lose
touch with his opponent's blade—he parried wildly,
leaving himself wide open—the Masked One struck
heels into his horse's side as he lunged, so that the
sword and horse shot forward as one. Brule leaned
aside, let the blade glance from the side of his cuirass;
his own blade shot straight out, elbow, wrist, hilt, and
point making a straight line from his shoulder. The
horses crashed together and together they rolled head-
long on the sward. But from that tangle of lashing
hoofs Brule rose unharmed, while there in the grass
lay the Masked One. Brule's sword still transfixing
him.
     Kull awoke as from a trance; the Picts were howl-
ing about like wolves, but he raised his hand for si-
lence. "Enough! You are all heroes! But attend to
Dalgar; he is sorely wounded. And when you have fin-
ished, you might see to my own wounds. Brule, how
came you to find me?"


     Brule beckoned Kull to where he stood above the
dead Masked One.
     "A beggar crone saw you climb the palace wall,
and out of curiosity watched where you went. She fol-
lowed and saw you go through the forgotten gate. I
was riding the plain between the wall and these Gar-
dens when I heard the clash of steel. But who can this
be?"
     "Raise the mask," said Kull, "Whoever it is, it is he
who copied Tu's handwriting, who took the signet
ring from Tu, and—"
     Brule tore the mask away.
     "Dondal!" Kull ejaculated. "Tu's nephew! Brule,
Tu must never know this. Let him think that Dondal
rode with you and died fighting for his king."
     Brule seemed stunned. "Dondal! A traitor! Why,
many a time I've drunk wine with him and slept it off
in one of his beds."
     Kull nodded. "I liked Dondal."
     Brule cleansed his blade and drove it home in the
scabbard with a vicious clank. "Want will make a
rogue of any man," he said moodily. "He was deep in
debt—Tu was penurious with him. Always maintained
that giving young men money was bad for them. Don-
dal was forced to keep up appearances for his pride's
sake, and so fell into the hands of the usurers. Thus
Tu is the greater traitor, for he drove the boy into
treachery by his parsimony—and I could wish Tu's
heart had stopped my point instead of his."
     So saying, the Pict turned on his heel and strode
sombrely away.
     Kim turned back to Dalgar, who lay half-
senseless while the Pictish warriors dressed his
wounds with experienced fingers. Others attended to
the king, and while they staunched, cleansed, and
bandaged, Nalissa came up to Kull.
     "Sire," she held out her small hands, now
scratched and stained with dried blood, "will you now
have mercy on us—grant my plea if—" her voice
caught on a sob—"if Dalgar lives?'


     Kull caught her slim shoulders and shook her in
his anguish.
     "Girl, girl, girl! Ask me anything except some-
thing I cannot grant. Ask half my kingdom or my
right hand, and it is yours. I will ask Murom to let you
marry Dalgar—I will beg him—but I cannot force
him."
     Tall horsemen were gathering through the Gar-
dens, whose resplendent armor shone among the half-
naked, wolfish Picts. A tall man hurried up, throwing
back the vizor of his helmet.
     "Father!"
     Murom bora Ballin crushed his daughter to his
breast with a sob of thanksgiving, and then turned to
his king.
     "Sire, you are sorely wounded!"
     Kull shook his head. "Not sorely; at least, not for
me, though other men might feel stiff and sore. But
yonder lies he who took took the death thrusts meant for
me; who was my shield and my helmet, and but for
whom Valusia had howled for a new king."
     Murom whirled toward the prostrate youth.
     "Dalgar! Is he dead?"
     "Nigh unto it," growled a wiry Pict who was still
working above him. "But he is steel and whalebone;
with any care he should live."
     "He came here to meet your daughter and elope
with her," said Kull, while Nalissa hung her head. "He
crept through the brush and saw me fighting for my
life and hers, atop yonder stair. He might nave es-
caped. Nothing barred him. But he climbed the sheer
wall to certain death, as it seemed then, and fought
by my side as gayly as he ever rode to a feast—and he
not even a subject of mine by birth."
     Murom's hands clenched and unclenched. His
eyes kindled and softened as they bent on his daugh-
ter.
     "Nalissa," he said softly, drawing the girl into the
shelter of his steel-clad arm, "do you still wish to
marry this reckless youth?"


     Her eyes spoke eloquently enough.
     Kull was speaking, "Take him up carefully and
bear him to the palace; he shall have the best—"
     Murom interposed, "Sire, if I may ask; let him be
taken to my castle. There the finest physicians shall
attend him and on his recovery—well, if it be your
royal pleasure, might we not celebrate the event with
a wedding?"
     Nalissa screamed with joy, clapped her hands,
kissed her father and Kull, and was off to Dalgar's
side like a whirlwind.
     Murom smiled softly, his aristocratic face alight.
     "Out of a night of blood and terror, joy and hap-
piness are born."
     The barbarian king grinned and shouldered his
stained and notched axe.
     "Life is that way. Count; one man's bane is anoth-
er's bliss."


The Mirrors of Tuzun Thune
"A wild, weird clime that lieth sublime
Out of Space, out of Time."
-POE
     There comes, even to kings, the time of great
weariness. Then the gold of the throne is brass, the
silk of the palace becomes drab. The gems in the dia-
dem sparkle drearily like the ice of the white seas; the
speech of men is as the empty rattle of a jester's bell
and the feel comes of things unreal; even the sun is
copper in the sky, and the breath of the green ocean is
no longer fresh.
     Kull sat upon the throne of Valusia and the hour
of weariness was upon him. They moved before him
in an endless, meaningless panorama: men, women,
priests, events and shadows of events; things seen and
things to be attained. But like shadows they came and
went, leaving no trace upon his consciousness, save
that of a great mental fatigue. Yet Kull was not tired.
There was a longing in him for things beyond him-
self and beyond the Valusian court. An unrest stirred
in him, and strange, luminous dreams roamed his soul.
At his bidding there came to him Brule the Spear-
slayer, warrior of Pictland, from the islands beyond
the West.


     "Lord king, you are tired of the life of the court-
Come with me upon my galley and let us roam the
tides for a space."
     "Nay." Kull rested his chin moodily upon his
mighty hand. "I am weary beyond all these things.
The cities hold no lure for me—and the borders are
quiet. I hear no more the sea-songs I heard when I lay
as a boy on the booming crags of Atlantis, and the
night was alive with blazing stars. No more do the
green woodlands beckon me as of old. There is a
strangeness upon me and a longing beyond life's long-
ings. Go!"
     Brule went forth in a doubtful mood, leaving the
king brooding upon his throne. Then to Kull stole a
girl of the court and whispered:
     "Great king, seek Tuzun Thune, the wizard. The
secrets of life and death are his, and the stars in the
sky the lands beneath the seas."
Kull looked at the girl. Fine gold was her hair
and her violet eyes were slanted strangely; she was
beautiful, but her beauty meant little to Kull.
     'Tuzun Thune," he repeated. "Who is he?"
     "A wizard of the Elder Race. He lives here in Val-
usia, by the Lake of Visions in the House of a Thou-
sand Mirrors. All things are known to him, lord king;
he speaks with the dead and holds converse with the
demons of the Lost Lands."
     Kull arose.
     "I will seek out this mummer; but no word of my
going, do you hear?"
     'I am your slave, my lord." And she sank to her
knees meekly, but the smile of her scarlet mouth was
cunning behind Kull's back and the gleam of her nar-
row eyes was crafty.
     Kull came to the house of Tuzun Thune, beside
the Lake of Visions. Wide and blue stretched the wa-
ters of the lake, and many a fine palace rose upon its
banks; many swan-winged pleasure boats drifted la-
zily upon its hazy surface and evermore there came
the sound of soft music.
     Tall and spacious, but unpretentious, rose the


House of a Thousand Mirrors. The great doors stood
open, and Kull ascended the broad stair and entered,
unannounced. There in a great chamber, whose walls
were of mirrors, he came upon Tuzun Thune, the
wizard. The man was ancient as the hills of Zal-
gara; like wrinkled leather was his skin, but his cold
gray eyes were like sparks of sword steel.
     "Kull of Valusia, my house is yours," said he,
bowing with old-time courtliness and motioning Kull
to a throne-like chair.
     "You are a wizard, I have heard," said Kull
bluntly, resting his chin upon his hand and fixing his
sombre eyes upon the man's face. "Can you do won-
ders?"
     The wizard stretched forth his hand; his fingers
opened and closed like a bird's claws.
     "Is that not a wonder—that this blind flesh obeys
the thoughts of my mind? I walk, I breathe, I speak—
are they not all wonders?"
     Kull meditated awhile, then spoke. "Can you
summon up demons?"
     "Aye. I can summon up a demon more savage
than any in ghost land—by smiting you in the face."
     Kull started, then nodded. "But the dead, can you
talk to the dead?"
     "I talk with the dead always—as I am talking
now. Death begins with birth, and each man begins to
die when he is born; even now you are dead, King
Kull, because you were born."
     "But you, you are older than men become; do
wizards never die?"
     "Men die when their times come. No later, no
sooner. Mine has not come."
     Kull turned these answers over in his mind.
     "Then it would seem that the greatest wizard of
Valusia is no more than an ordinary man, and I have
been duped in coming here."
     Tuzun Thune shook his head. "Men are but men,
and the greatest men are they who soonest learn the
simpler things. Nay, look into my mirrors, Kull."


     The ceiling was a great many mirrors, and the
walls were mirrors, perfectly joined, yet many mirrors
of many sizes and shapes.
     "Mirrors are the world, Kull," droned the wizard.
"Gaze into my mirrors and be wise."
     Kull chose one at random and looked into it in-
tently. The mirrors upon the opposite wall were re-
flected there, reflecting others, so that he seemed to
be gazing down a long, luminous corridor, formed by
mirror behind mirror; and far down this corridor
moved a tiny figure. Kull looked long ere he saw that
the figure was the reflection of himself. He gazed and
a queer feeling of pettiness came over him; it seemed
that that tiny figure was the true Kull, representing
the real proportions of himself. So he moved away and
stood before another.
     "Look closely, Kull. That is the mirror of the
past," he heard the wizard say.
     Gray fogs obscured the vision, great billows of
mist, ever heaving and changing like the ghost of a
great river; through these fogs Kull caught swift fleet-
ing visions of horror and strangeness; beasts and men
moved there and shapes neither men nor beasts; great
exotic blossoms glowed through the grayness; tall
tropic trees towered high over reeking swamps, where
reptilian monsters wallowed, and bellowed; the sky
was ghastly with flying dragons, and the restless seas
rocked and roared and beat endlessly along the
muddy beaches. Man was not, yet man was the dream
of the gods, and strange were the nightmare forms
that glided through the noisome jungles. Battle and
onslaught were there, and frightful love. Death was
there, for Life and Death go hand in hand. Across the
slimy beaches of the world sounded the bellowing of
the monsters, and incredible shapes loomed through
the streaming curtain of the incessant rain.
"This is of the future."
Kull looked in silence.
"See you—what?"
"A strange world," said Kull heavily. "The Seven
Empires are crumbled to dust and are forgotten. The


restless green waves roar for many a fathom above the
eternal hills of Atlantis; the mountains of Lemuria of
the West are the islands of an unknown sea. Strange
savages roam the elder lands and new lands flung
strangely from the deeps, defiling the elder shrines.
Valusia is vanished and all the nations of today; they
of tomorrow are strangers. They know us not."
     "Time strides onward," said Tuzun Thune calmly.
"We live today; what care we for tomorrow—or yester-
day? The Wheel turns and nations rise and fall; the
world changes, and times return to savagery to rise
again through the long age. Ere Atlantis was, Valusia
was, and ere Valusia was, the Elder Nations were.
Aye, we, too, trampled the shoulders of lost tribes in
our advance. You, who have come from the green sea
hills of Atlantis to seize the ancient crown of Valusia,
you think my tribe is old, we who held these lands ere
the Valusians came out of the East, in the days before
there were men in the sea lands. But men were here
when the Elder Tribes rode out of the waste lands,
and men before men, tribe before tribe. The nations
pass and are forgotten, for that is the destiny of man."
     "Yes," said Kull. "Yet is it not a pity that the
beauty and glory of men should fade like smoke on a
summer sea?"
     "For what reason, since that is their destiny? I
brood not over the lost glories of my race, nor do I
labor for races to come. Live now, Kull, live now. The
dead are dead; the unborn are not. What matters
men's forgetfulness of you when you have forgotten
yourself in the silent worlds of death? Gaze in my mir-
rors and be wise."
     Kull chose another mirror and gazed into it.
     "That is the mirror of deepest magic; what see ye,
Kull?"                     "      "           —
     "Naught but myself."
     "Look closely, Kull; is it in truth you?"
     Kull stared into the great mirror, and the image
that was his reflection returned his gaze.
     "I come before this mirror," mused Kull, chin on
fist, "and I bring this man to life. That is beyond my


  understanding, since first I saw him in the still waters
of the lakes of Atlantis, till I saw him again in the
gold-rimmed mirrors of Valusia. He is I, a shadow of
myself, part of myself—I can bring him into being or
slay him at my will; yet—" He halted, strange thoughts
whispering through the vast dim recesses of his mind
like shadowy bats flying through a great cavern—"yet
where is he when I stand not in front of a mirror?
May it be in man's power thus lightly to form and
destroy a shadow of life and existence? How do I
know that when I step back from the mirror he van-
ishes into the void of Naught?
     "Nay, by Valka, am I the man or is he? Which of
us is the ghost of the other? Mayhap these mirrors are
but windows through which we look into another
world. Does he think the same of me? Am I no more
than a shadow, a reflection of himself—to him, as he
to me? And if I am the ghost, what sort of a world
lives upon the other side of this mirror? What armies
ride there and what kings rule? This world is all I
know. Knowing naught of any other, how can I judge?
Surely there are green hills there and booming seas
and wide plains where men ride to battle. Tell me,
wizard who is wiser than most men, tell me are there
worlds beyond our worlds?"
     "A man has eyes, let him see," answered the wiz-
ard. "Who would see must first believe."
     The hours drifted by, and Kull still sat before the
mirrors of Tuzun Thune, gazing into that which de-
picted himself. Sometimes it seemed that he gazed
upon hard shallowness; at other times gigantic depths
seemed to loom before him. Like the surface of the
sea was the mirror of Tuzun Thune; hard as the sea in
the sun's slanting beams, in the darkness of the stars,
when no eye can pierce her deeps; vast and mystic as
the sea when the sun smites her in such way that the
watcher's breath is caught at the glimpse of tremen-
dous abysses. So was the mirror in which Kull gazed.
     At last the king rose with a sigh and took his de-
parture still wondering. And Kull came again to the
House of a Thousand Mirrors; day after day he came


and sat for hours before the mirror. The eyes looked
out at him, identical with his; yet Kull seemed to
sense a difference—a reality that was not of him. Hour
upon hour he would stare with strange intensity into
the mirror; hour after hour the image gave back his
gaze.
     The business of the palace and of the council
went neglected. The people murmured; Kull's stallion
stamped restlessly in his stable, and Kull's warriors
diced and argued aimlessly with one another. Kull
heeded not. At times he seemed on the point of dis-
covering some vast, unthinkable secret. He no longer
thought of the image in the mirror as a shadow of
himself; the thing, to him, was an entity, similar in
outer appearance, yet basically as far from Kull him-
self as the poles are far apart. The image, it seemed to
Kull, had an individuality apart from Kull's, he was no
more dependent on Kull than Kull was dependent on
him. And day by day Kull doubted in which world he
really lived; was he the shadow, summoned at will by
the other? Did he instead of the other live in a world
of delusion, the shadow of the real world?
     Kull began to wish that he might enter the per-
sonality beyond the mirror for a space, to see what
might be seen; yet should he manage to go beyond
that door could he ever return? Would he find a world
identical with the one in which he moved? A world, of
which his was but a ghostly reflection? Which was
reality and which illusion?
     At times Kull halted to wonder how such
thoughts and dreams had come to enter his mind, and
at times he wondered if they came of his own volition
or—here his thoughts would become mazed. His medi-
tations were his own; no man ruled his thoughts, and
he would summon them at his pleasure; yet could he?
Were they not as bats, coming and going, not at his
pleasure but at the bidding or ruling of—of whom?
The gods? The Women who wove the webs of Fate?
Kull could come to no conclusion, for at each mental
step he became more and more bewildered in a hazy
fog of illusory assertions and refutations. This much


he knew: that strange visions entered his mind, like
flying unbidden from the whispering void of non-
existence; never had he thought these thoughts, but
now they ruled his mind, sleeping and waking, so that
he seemed to walk in a daze at times; and his sleep
was fraught with strange, monstrous dreams.
     "Tell me, wizard," he said, sitting before the mir-
ror, eyes fixed intently upon his image, "how can I
pass yon door? For of a truth, I am not sure that that
is the real world and this the shadow; at least, that
which I see must exist in some form."
     "See and believe," droned the wizard. "Man must
believe to accomplish. Form is shadow, substance is
illusion, materiality is dream; man is because he be-
lieves he is; what is man but a dream of the gods? Yet
man can be that which he wishes to be; form and
substance, they are but shadows. The mind, the ego,
the essence of the god-dream—that is real, that is im-
mortal. See and believe, if you would accomplish,
Kull."
The king did not fully understand; he never fully
understood the enigmatical utterances of the wizard;
yet they struck somewhere in his being a dim respon-
sive chord. So day after day he sat before the mirrors
of Tuzun Thune. Ever the wizard lurked behind him
like a shadow.
     Then came a day when Kull seemed to catch
glimpses of strange lands; there flitted across his con-
sciousness dim thoughts and recognitions. Day by day
he had seemed to lose touch with the world; all things
had seemed each succeeding day more ghostly and
unreal; only the man in the mirror seemed like reality.
Now Kull seemed to be close to the doors of some
mightier worlds; giant vistas gleamed fleetingly; the
fogs of unreality thinned; "form is shadow, substance
is illusion; they are but shadows" sounded as if from
some far country of his consciousness. He remem-
bered the wizard's words and it seemed to him that
now he almost understood—form and substance, could
not he change himself at will, if he knew the master


key that opened this door? What worlds within what
worlds awaited the bold explorer?
     The man in the mirror seemed smiling at him—
closer, closer—a fog enwrapped all and the reflection
dimmed suddenly—Kull knew a sensation of fading, of
change, of merging. . . .
     "KulI!" the yell split the silence into a million vi-
bratory fragments!
     Mountains crashed and worlds tottered as Kull,
hurled back by the frantic shout, made a superhuman
effort, how or why he did not know.
     A crash, and Kull stood in the room of Tuzun
Thune before a shattered mirror, mazed and half-
blind with bewilderment. There before him lay the
body of Tuzun Thune, whose time had come at last,
and above him stood Brule the Spear-slayer, sword
dripping red and eyes wide with a kind of horror.
     Valka!" swore the warrior. "Kull, it was time I
came!"
     "Aye, yet what happened?" The king groped for
words.
"Ask this traitress," answered the Spear-slayer, in-
dicating a girl who crouched in terror before the king;
Kull saw that it was she who first sent him to Tuzun
Thune. "As I came in I saw you fading into yon mirror
as smoke fades into the sky, by Valka! Had I not seen
I would not have believed—you had almost vanished
when my shout brought you back."
     "Aye," muttered Kull, "I had almost gone beyond
the door that time."
     "This fiend wrought most craftily," said Brule.
"KULL, do you not now see how he spun and flung over
you a web of magic? Kaanuub of Blaal plotted with
this wizard to do away with you, and this wench, a
girl of the Elder Race, put the thought in your mind
so that you would come here. Ka-na of the council
learned of the plot today; I know not what you saw in
that mirror, but with it Tuzun Thune enthralled your
soul and almost by his witchery he changed your
body to mist-"
     "Aye." Kull was still mazed. "But being a wizard,


having knowledge of all the ages and despising gold,
glory, and position, what could Kaanuub offer Tuzun
Thune that would make of him a foul traitor?"
     "Gold, power, and position," grunted Brule. "The
sooner you learn that men are men whether wizard,
king, or thrall, the better you will rule, Kull. Now
what of her?"
     "Naught, Brule," as the girl whimpered and grov-
eled at Kull's feet. "She was but a tool. Rise, child,
and go your ways; none shall harm you."
     Alone with Brule, Kull looked for the last time on
the mirrors of Tuzun Thune.
     "Mayhap he plotted and conjured, Brule; nay, I
doubt you not, yet—was it his witchery that was
changing me to thin mist, or had I stumbled on a se-
cret? Had you not brought me back, had I faded in
dissolution or had I found worlds beyond this?"
     Brule stole a glance at the mirrors, and twitched
his shoulders as if he shuddered. "Aye, Tuzun Thune
stored the wisdom of all the hells here. Let us be
gone, Kull, ere they bewitch me, too."
     "Let us go, then," answered Kull, and side by side
they went forth from the House of a Thousand Mir-
rors—where, mayhap, are prisoned the souls of men.
     None look now in the mirrors of Tuzun Thune.
The pleasure boats shun the shore where stands the
wizard's house, and no one goes in the house or to the
room where Tuzun Thune's dried and withered car-
cass lies before the mirrors of illusion. The place is
shunned as a place accursed, and though it stands for
a thousand years to come, no footsteps shall echo
there. Yet Kull upon his throne meditates often upon
the strange wisdom and untold secrets hidden there
and wonders. . . .
     For there are worlds beyond worlds, as Kull
knows, and whether the wizard bewitched him by
words or by mesmerism, vistas did open to the kings
gaze beyond that strange door, and Kull is less sure of
reality since he gazed into the mirrors of Tuzun
Thune.


The King and The Oak
Before the shadows slew the sun the kites were soaring free,
And Kull rode down the forest road, his red sword at his
knee;
And winds were whispering round the world: "King Kull
     rides to the sea."
The sun dried crimson in the sea, the long gray shadows
fell;
The moon rose like a silver skull that wrought a demon's
     spell,
For in its light great trees stood up like spectres out of hell.
In spectral light the trees stood up, inhuman monsters dim;
Kull thought each trunk a living shape, each branch a
     knotted limb,
And strange unmortal evil eyes flamed horribly at him.
The branches writhed like knotted snakes, they beat against
the night,
And one gray oak with swayings stiff, horrific in his sight,
Tore up its roots and blocked his way, grim in the ghostly
    light.
They grappled in the forest way, the king and grisly oak;
Its great limbs bent him in their grip, but never a word was
spoke;
And futile in his iron hand, the stabbing dagger broke.


And through the tossing, monstrous trees there sang a dim
     refrain
Fraught deep with twice a million years of evil, hate and
pain:
"We were the lords ere man had come and shall be lords
     again."
Kull sensed an empire strange and old that bowed to man's
advance
As kingdoms of the grass-blades before the marching ants,
And horror gripped him; in the dawn like someone in a
     trance.
He strove with bloody hands against a still and silent tree;
As from a nightmare dream he woke! a wind blew down the
     lea,
And Kull of high Atlantis rode silent to the sea.


The Black City
(Fragment)
     The cold eyes of Kull, king of Valusia, clouded
with perplexity as they rested on the man who had so
abruptly entered the royal presence and who now
stood before the king, trembling with passion. Kull
sighed; he knew the barbarians who served him, for
was not he himself an Atlantean by birth? Brule, the
Spear-slayer, bursting rudely into the king's chamber,
had torn from his harness every emblem given him by
Valusia and now stood bare of any sign to show that
he was allied to the empire. And Kull knew the mean-
ing of this gesture.
     "Kull!" barked the Pict, pale with fury. "I will
have justice!"
     Again Kull sighed. There were times when peace
and quiet were things to be desired and in Kamula he
thought he had found them. Dreamy Kamula—even as
he waited for the raging Pict to continue his tirade,
Kull's thoughts drifted away and back along the lazy,
dreamy days that had passed since his coming to this
mountain city, this metropolis of pleasure, whose mar-
ble and lapis-lazuli palaces were built, tier upon
gleaming tier, about the dome-shaped hill that formed
the city's center.
     "My people have been allies of the empire for a
thousand years!" the Pict made a swift, passionate ges-


ture with his clenched fist. "Now, is it that one of my
warriors can be snatched from under my nose in the
very palace of the king?"
     Kull straightened with a start.
     "What madness is this? What warrior? Who seized
him?"
     "That's for you to discover," growled the Pict.
"One moment he was there, lounging against a marble
column—the next—zut! He was gone with only a foul
stench and a frightful scream for clue."
     "Perhaps a jealous husband—" mused Kull.
     Brule broke in rudely; "Grogar never looked at
any women—even of his own race. These Kamulians
hate we Picts. I have read it in their looks."
     Kull smiled. "You dream, Brule; these people are
too indolent and pleasure-loving to hate anyone. They
love, they sing, they compose lyrics—I suppose you
think Grogar was snatched away by the poet Taligaro,
or the singing woman Zareta, or prince Mandara?"
     "I care not!" snarled Brule. "But I tell you this,
Kull, Grogar has spilt his blood like water for the em-
pire, and he is my best chief of mounted bowmen. I
will find him, alive or dead, if I have to tear Kamula
apart, stone by stone! By Valka, I will feed this city to
the flames and quench the flames in blood—"
     Kull had risen from his chair.
     "Take me to the place you last saw Grogar," he
said, and Brule ceased his tirade and led the way sul-
lenly. They passed out of the chamber through an in-
ner door and proceeded down a winding corridor, side
by side, as different in appearance as two men could
well be, yet alike in the litheness of movement, the
keenness of eye, the intangible wildness that pro-
claimed the barbarian.
     Kull was tall, broad-shouldered and deep-
chested—massive yet lithe. His face was brown from
sun and wind, his square-cut black hair like a lion's
mane, his gray eyes cold as a sword gleaming through
fathoms of ice.
     Brule was typical of his race—of medium height,


built with the savage economy of a panther, and of
skin much darker than the kings.
     "We were in the Jeweled Room," grunted the Pict,
"Grogar, Manaro and I. Grogar was leaning against a
half-column set into the wall when he shifted his
weight full against the wall—and vanished before our
eyes! A panel swung inward and he was gone—and we
had but a glimpse of black darkness within, and a
loathsome scene flowed momentarily outward. But
Manaro, standing beside Grogar, whipped out his
sword in that instant and thrust the good blade into
the opening, so the panel could not wholly close. We
thrust against it, but it did not yield and I hastened
after you, leaving Manaro holding his sword in the
crack."
     "And why did you tear off your Valusian em-
blems?" asked Kull.
     "I was angry," growled the Spear-slayer sullenly,
avoiding Kull's eye. The king nodded without reply. It
was the natural, unreasoning action of an infuriated
savage, to whom no natural enemy appears to be
slashed and rent.
     They entered the Jeweled Room, the further wall
of which was set into the natural stone of the hill on
which Kamula was built.
     "Manaro swore he heard a whisper as of music,"
grunted Brule. "And there he leans with his ear at the
crack. HoIa-Manaro!"
     Kull frowned as he saw the tall Valusian did not
change his posture or give any heed to the hail. He
did in truth lean against the panel, one hand gripping
the sword which held the secret doorway apart, one
ear glued to the thin crack. Kull noted the almost ma-
terial darkness of that thin strip of blackness—it
seemed to him that beyond that unknown opening,
the darkness must lurk like a living, sentient thing.
     He strode forward impatiently and clapped the
soldier heavily on the shoulder. And Manaro rocked
away from the wall and fell stiffly to lie at Kull's feet
With horror-glazed eyes staring blankly upward.


     "Valka!" swore Brule. "He's been stabbed-I was
a fool to leave him here alone—"
     The king shook his lion-like head. There's no
blood on him—look at his face." Brule looked and
cursed. The dead Valusian's features were set. in a
mask of horror—and the effect was distinctly one of
listening.
     Kull cautiously approached the crack in the wall
and then beckoned Brule. From somewhere beyond
that mysterious portal sounded a thin, wailing sound
as of a ghostly piping. It was so dim as to barely be
heard, but it held in its music all the hate and venom
of a thousand demons. Kull shrugged his giant shoul-
ders.


Untitled
(Fragment)
     Thus," said Tu, chief councilor, "did Lala-ah,
countess of Fanara, flee with her lover, Fenar, Far-
sunian adventurer, bringing shame to her husband-to-
be and to the nation of Valusia."
     Kull, fist supporting chin, nodded. He had lis-
tened with scant interest to the tale of how the young
countess of Fanara had left a Valusian nobleman wait-
ing on the steps of Merama's and had eloped with a
man of her own choice.
     "Yes," he impatiently interrupted Tu, "I under-
stand. But what have the amorous adventures of a
giddy girl to do with me? I blame her not for forsak-
ing Ka-yanna—by Valka, he is as ugly as a rhinoceros
and has a more abominable disposition. Then why tell
me this tale?"
     "You do not understand, Kull," said Tu, with the
patience one must accord a barbarian who happens to
be a king, besides. "The customs of the nation are not
your customs. Lala-ah, by deserting Ka-yanna at the
very foot of the altar where their nuptials were to be
consummated, committed a very gross offense to the
traditions of the land—and an insult to the nation is an
insult to the king, Kull. For this alone she must be
brought back and punished.
- "Then, she is a countess, and it is a Valusian tra-


dition that noble women marry foreigners only with
the consent of the Valusian state—here consent WAS
never given nor even asked. Valusia will become the
scorn of all nations if we allow men from other lands
to take our women with impunity."
"Name of Valka," grumbled Kull. "Here is a great
to-do— custom and tradition! I have heard little else
since I first pressed the throne of Valusia. In my land
women mate with. whom they will and with whom
they choose."
     "Aye, Kull," thus Tu, soothingly. "But this is Val-
usia—not Atlantis. There all men, aye, and all women,
are free and unhindered, but civilization is a network
and a maze of precedences and custom. And another
thing in regard to the young countess: she has a strain
of royal blood.
     "This man rode with Ka-yanna's horsemen in pur-
suit of the girl," said Tu,
     "Aye," the young man spoke, "and I have for you
a word from Fenar, lord king."
     "A word for me? I never saw Fenar."
     "Nay, but this he said to a border guard or
Zarfhaana, to be repeated to they who pursued; Tell
the barbarian swine who defiles an ancient throne
that I name him scoundrel. Tell him that some day I
shall return and clothe his cowardly carcass in the
clothing of women, to attend my chariot horses.' "
     Kull's vast bulk heaved erect, his chair of state
crashing to the floor. A moment he stood, speechless,
then he found voice in a roar that sent Tu and the
noble backward.
     "Valka, Honen, Holgar, and Hotath!" he roared,
mingling deities with heathen gods in a manner that-
made Tu's hair rise at the blasphemy. Kull's huge
arms were brandished aloft and his mighty fist de-
scended on the tabletop with a force that buckled the
heavy legs like paper. Tu, pale, swept off his feet by
this tide of barbarian fury, backed against the wall,
followed by the young noble who had dared much in.
giving Fenar's word. However, Kull was too much the


savage to connect the insult with the bearer; it must
remain for civilized rulers to wreak vengeance on
couriers.
     "Horses!" roared Kull. "Have the Red Slayers
mount! Send Brule to me!"
     He tore off his kingly robe and hurled it across
the room, snatched a costly vase from the broken ta-
ble and dashed it to the floor.
     "Hurry!" gasped Tu, shoving the young nobleman
toward the door. 'Get Brule, the Pictish Spear-slayer—
haste, before he slays us all!"
     Tu judged the king's actions by those of preced-
ing kings; however, Kull had not progressed far
enough in civilized custom to wreak his royal rage on
innocent subjects.
     His first red fury had been succeeded by a cold
steel rage by the time Brule arrived. The Pict stalked
in unconcernedly, a grim smile touching his lips as he
marked the destruction caused by the king's wrath.
     Kull was garbing himself in riding garments and
he looked up as Brule entered, his scintillant gray eyes
gleaming coldly.
     "Kull, we ride?" asked the Pict.
     "Aye, we ride hard and far, by Valka! We ride to
Zarfhaana first and perhaps beyond—to the lands of
the snow or the desert sands or to Hell! Have three
hundred of the Red Slayers in readiness."
     Brule grinned in pure enjoyment. He was a pow-
erfully built man of medium height, with glittering
eyes set in immobile features. He looked much like a
bronze statue. Without a word he turned and left the
chamber.
     "Lord king, what do you do?" ventured Tu, still
shaking from fright.
     "I ride on Fenar's trail," answered the king fero-
ciously. "The kingdom is in your hands, Tu. I return
when I have crossed swords with this Farsunian or I
do not return at all."
     "Nay, nay!" exclaimed Tu. "This is most unwise,
King! Heed not what that nameless adventurer said!


The emperor of Zarfhaana will never allow you to
bring such a force as you named into his realm."
     Then I will ride over the ruins of Zarfhaana's cit-
ies," was Kull's grim reply. "Men avenge their own
insults in Atlantis—and though Atlantis has disowned
me and I am king of Valusia— still I am a man, by
Valka!"
     He buckled on his great sword and strode to the
door, Tu staring after him.
     There before the palace sat four hundred men in
their saddles. Three hundred of these were men of the
Red Slayers, Kull's cavalry, and the most terrible sol-
diery of the earth. They were composed mostly of
Valusian hill-men, the strongest and most vigorous of
a degenerating race. The remaining hundred were
Picts, lean, powerful savages, men of Brule's tribe,
who sat their horses like centaurs and fought like de-
mons when occasion arose.
     All these men gave Kull the crown salute as he
strode down the palace steps and his eyes lighted with
a fierce gleam. He was almost grateful to Fenar for
having given him the pretext he needed to quit the
monotonous life of the court for awhile and plunge
into fierce action—but his thoughts toward the Far-
sunian were no more kindly for this reason.
     At the front of this fierce array sat Brule, chief-
tain of Valusia's most formidable allies, and Kelkor.
second commander of the Red Slayers.
     Kull acknowledged the salute by a brusque ges-
ture and swung into the saddle.
     Brule and the commander reined in on either side
of him.
     "At attention," came Kelkor's curt command.
"Spurs! Forward!"
     The cavalcade moved forward at an easy trot
The people of Valusia gazed curiously from their win-
dows and doorways, and the throngs on the streets
turned as the clatter of silver hoofs resounded through
the babble and chatter of trading and commerce. The
steeds flung their caparisoned manes; the bronze ar-
mor of the warriors glinted in the sun, the pennons on


the long lances streamed backward. A moment the
small people of the marketplace stopped their gabble
as the proud array swept by, blinking in stupid won-
der or childish admiration; then the horsemen dwin-
dled down the great white street, the clang of silver
on cobblestone died away in the distance, and the
people of the city turned back to their commonplace
tasks. As the people always do, no matter what kings
ride.
     Along the broad white streets of Valusia swept
the king and his horsemen, out through the suburbs
with their spacious estates and lordly palaces; on and
on until the golden spires and sapphire towers of Val-
usia were but a silver shimmer in the distance and the
green hills of Zligara loomed majestically before
them.
     Night found them encamped high on the slopes
of the mountains. The hill people, kin to the Red Slay-
ers, many of them, flocked to the camp with gifts of
food and wine, and the warriors, the proud restraint
they felt among the cities of the world loosened,
talked with them and sang old songs, and exchanged
old tales. But Kull walked apart, beyond the glow of
the campfires, to gaze out across the mystic vistas of
crag and valley. The slopes were softened by verdure
and foliage, the vales deepening into shadowy realms
of magic, the hills standing out bold and clear in the
silver of the moon. The hills of Zaigara had always
held a fascination for Kull, They brought to his mind
the mountains of Atlantis whose snowy heights he had
scaled as a youth, ere he fared forth into the great
world to write his name across the stars and make an
ancient throne his seat.
     Yet tliere was a difference. The crags of Atlantis
rose stark and gaunt; her cliffs were barren and rug-
ged. The mountains of Atlantis were brutal and terri-
ble with youth, even as Kull. Age had not softened
thier might. The hills of Zalgara rose up like ancient
gods, but green groves and waving verdure laughed
UPON their shoulders and cliffs, and their outline was
soft and flowing. Age—age—thought Kull; many a


drifting century had worn away their craggy splendor;
they were mellow and beautiful with antiquity. An-
cient mountains dreaming of bygone kings whose
careless feet had trod their sward.
     Like a red wave the thought of Fenar's insult
swept away these broodings. Hands clenched in fury,
Kull flung back his shoulders to gaze full into the
calm eye of the moon.
     "Helfara and Hotath doom my soul to everlasting
Hell if I wreak not my vengeance on Fenar!" he
snarled.
     The night breeze whispered among the trees as if
in answer to the heathen vow.
     Ere scarlet dawn had burst like a red rose over
the hills of Zalgara Kull's cavalcade was in the saddle.
The first glints of morning shone on the lance points,
the helmets and the shields as the band wound its
way through green-waving vales and up over long un-
dulating slopes.
     "We ride into the sunrise," remarked Kelkor.
     "Aye," was Brule's grim response. "And some of
us ride beyond the sunrise."
     Kelkor shrugged his shoulders. "So be it. That is
the destiny of a warrior."
     Kull glanced at the commander. Straight as a
spear sat Kelkor in his saddle, inflexible, unbending
as a statue of steel. The commander had always re-
minded the king of a fine sword of polished steel. A
man of terrific power and mighty forces, the most
powerful thing about him was his absolute control of
himself. An icy calmness had always characterized his
words and deeds. In the heat and vituperation of
council, in the wild wrack of battle, Kelkor was al-
ways cool, never confused. He had few friends, nor
did he strive to make friends. His qualities alone had
raised him from an unknown warrior in the ranks of
the mercenaries to the second highest rank in Valusian
armies—and only the fact of his birth debarred him
from the highest. For custom decreed that the lord
commander of troops must be a Valusian and Kelkor
was a Lemurian. Yet he looked more a Valusian than


a Lemurian as he sat his horse, for he was built differ-
ently from most of his race, being tall and leanly but
strongly built. His strange eyes alone betrayed his
race.
     Another dawn found them riding down from the
foothills that debauched out into the Camoonian de-
sert, a vast wasteland, uninhabited, a dreary waste of
yellow sands. No trees grew there, nor even bushes,
nor were there any streams of water. All day they
rode, stopping only a short time at midday to eat and
rest the horses, though the heat was almost intoler-
able. The men, inured as they were, wilted beneath the
heat. Silence reigned save for the clank of stirrups and
armor, the creak of sweating saddles, and the monoto-
nous scruff of hoof through the deep sands. Even
Brule hung his corselet on his saddlebow. But Kelkor
sat upright and unmoved, under the weight of full ar-
mor, seemingly untouched by the heat and discomfort
that harried the rest.
     "Steel, all steel," thought Kull in admiration, se-
cretly wondering if he could ever attain the perfect
mastery over himself that this man, also a barbarian,
had attained.
     Two days' journey brought them out of the desert
and into the low hills that marked the confines of
Zarfhaana. At the borderline they were stopped by
two Zarfhaanian riders.
     "I am Kull of Valusia," the king answered ab-
ruptly. "I ride on the trail of Fenar. Seek not to hinder
my passing. I will be responsible to your emperor."
     The two horsemen reined aside to let the caval-
cade pass and as the clashing hoofs faded in the dis-
tance, one spoke to the other.
     "I win our wager. The king of Valusia rides him-
self."          
     "Aye," the other replied. "These barbarians avenge
their own wrongs. Had the king been a Valusian, by
Valka, you had lost."
     The vales of Zarfhaana echoed to the tramp of
Kull's riders. The peaceful country people flocked out
of their villages to watch, the fierce warriors sweep


by, and word went to the north and the south, the
west and the east, that Kull of Valusia rode eastward
     Just beyond the frontier, Kull, having sent an en-
voy to the Zarfhaanian emperor to assure him of their
peaceful intention, held council with Brule, Ka-yanna,
and Kelkor.
     "They have the start of us by many days," said
Kull, "and we must lose no time in searching for their
trail. These country people will lie to us; we must
scent out our own trail, as wolves scent out the spoor
of a deer."
     "Let me question these fellows," said Ka-yanna,
with a vicious curl of his thick, sensual lips. I will
guarantee to make them speak truthfully."
     Kull glanced at him inquiringly.
     "There are ways," purred the Valusian.
     "Torture?" grunted Kull, his lip writhing in un-
veiled contempt. "Zarfhaana is a friendly nation."
     "What cares the emperor for a few wretched vil-
lagers?" blandly asked Ka-yanna.
     "Enough." Kull swept aside the suggestion with
true Atlantean abhorrence, but Brule raised his hand
for attention.
     "Kull," said he, "I like this fellow's plan no more
than you, but at times even a swine speaks truth." Ka-
yanna's lips writhed in rage, but the Pict gave him no
heed. "Let me take a few of my men among the vil-
lagers and question them. I will only frighten a few,
harming no one; otherwise we may spend weeks in fu-
tile search."
     "There spake the barbarian," said Kull with the
friendly maliciousness that existed between the two.
     "In what city of the Seven Empires were you
born, lord king?" asked the Pict with sarcastic defer-
ence.
     Kelkor dismissed this byplay with an impatient
wave of his hand.
     "Here is our position," said he, scrawling a map in
the ashes of the campfire with his scabbard end.
"North Fenar is not likely to go—assuming as we do
that he does not intend remaining in Zarfhaana—


because beyond Zarfhaana is the sea, swarming with
pirates and sea-rovers. South he will not go because
there lies Thurania, foe of his nation. Now it is my
guess that he will strike straight east as he was travel-
ling, cross Zarfhaana's eastern border somewhere near
the frontier city of Talunia, and go into the waste-
lands of Grondar; thence I believe he will turn south
seeking to gain Farsun—which lies west of Valusia—
through the small principalities south of Thurania."
     "Here is much supposition, Kelkor," said Kull. "If
Fenar wishes to win through to Farsun, why in Val-
ka's name did he strike in the exactly opposite direc-
tion?"
     "Because, as you know, Kull, in these unsettled
times all our borders, except the easternmost, are
closely guarded. He could never have gotten through
without proper explanation, much less have carried
the countess with him."
     "I believe Kelkor is right, Kull," said Brule, eyes
dancing with impatience to be in the saddle. "His ar-
guments sound logical, at any rate."
     "As good a plan as any," replied Kull. "We ride
east."
     And east they rode through the long lazy days,
entertained and feasted at every halt by the kindly
Zarfhaanian people. A soft and lazy land, thought
Kull, a dainty girl waiting helplessly for some ruthless
conqueror—Kull dreamed his dreams as his riders'
hoofs beat out their tattoo through the dreamy valleys
and the verdant woodlands. Yet he drove his men
hard, giving them no rest, for ever behind his far-
sweeping and imperial visions of blood-stained glory
and wild conquest, there loomed the phantom of his
hate, the relentless hatred of the savage, before which
all other desires must give way.
     They swung wide of cities and large towns for
Kull wished not to give his fierce warriors opportu-
nity to become embroiled in some dispute with the
inhabitants. The cavalcade was nearing the border
city of Talunia, Zarfhaana's last eastern outpost, when
the envoy sent to the emperor in his city to the north


rejoined them with the word that the emperor was
quite willing that Kull should ride through his land,
and requested the Valusian king to visit him on his
return. Kull smiled grimly at the irony of the situation,
considering the fact that even while the emperor was
giving benevolent permission, Kull was already far
into his country with his men.
     Kull's warriors rode into Talunia at dawn, after
an all night's ride, for he had thought that perhaps
Fenar and the countess, feeling temporarily safe,
would tarry awhile in the border city and he wished
to precede the word of his coming.
     Kull encamped his men some distance outside the
city walls and entered the city alone save for Brule.
The gates were readily opened to him when he had
shown the regal signet of Valusia and the symbol sent
him by the Zarfhaanian emperor.
     "Hark ye," said Kull to the commander of the
gate guards, "are Fenar and Lala-ah in this city?"
     That I cannot say," the soldier answered. "They
entered at this gate many days since, but whether
they are still in the city or not, I do not know."
     "Listen, then," said Kull, slipping a gemmed
bracelet from his mighty arm, "I am merely a wander-
ing Valusian noble, accompanied by a Pictish com-
panion. None need know who I am, understand?"
     The soldier eyed the costly ornament covetously.
"Very good, lord long, but what of your soldiers en-
camped in the forest?"
     They are concealed from the eyes of the city. If
any peasant enters your gate, question him and if he
tells you of a force encamped, hold him prisoner for
some trumped-up reason, until this time tomorrow
For by then I shall have secured the information I de-
sire."
     "Valka's name, lord long, you would make me a
traitor of sorts!" expostulated the soldier. "I think not
that you plan treachery, yet—"
     Kull changed his tactics. "Have you not orders to
obey your emperor's command? Have I not shown


you his symbol of command? Dare you disobey?
Valka, it is you who would be the traitor!
     After all, reflected the soldier, this was the
truth—he would not be bribed, no! no! But since it
was the order of a king who bore authority from his
emperor—
     Kull handed over the bracelet with no more than
a faint smile betraying his contempt of mankind's way
of lulling their consciences into the path of their desires,
refusing to admit that they violated their own moral
senses, even to themselves.
     The king and Brule walked through the streets,
where the tradespeople were just beginning to stir.
Kull's giant stature and Brule's bronze skin drew
many curious stares, but no more than would be ex-
pected to be accorded strangers. Kull began to wish
he had brought Kelkor or a Valusian, for Brule could
not possibly disguise his race, and since Picts were
seldom seen in these eastern cities, it might cause
comment that would reach the hearing of those they
sought.
     They sought a modest tavern where they secured
a room, then took their seats in the drinking room, to
see if they might hear aught of what they wished to
hear. But the day wore on and nothing was said of the
fugitive couple, nor did carefully veiled questions
elicit any knowledge. If Fenar and Lala-ah were still
in Talunia they were certainly not advertising their
presence. Kull would have thought that the presence
of a dashing gallant and a beautiful young girl of
royal blood in the city would have been the subject of
at least some comment, but such seemed not to be the
case.
     Kull intended to fare forth that night upon the
streets, even to the extent of committing some maraud-
ing if necessary, and failing in this to reveal his identity
to the lord of the city the next morning, demanding that
the culprits be handed over to him. Yet Kull's fero-
cious pride rebelled at such an act. This seemed the
most logical course, and was one which Kull would
have followed had the matter been merely a diplo-


imatic or political one. But Kull's fierce pride was
roused and he was loath to ask aid from anyone in the
consummating of his vengeance.
     Night was falling as the comrades stepped into
the streets, still thronged with voluble people and
lighted by torches set along the streets. They were
passing a shadowy side-street when a cautious voice
halted them. From the dimness between the great
building a claw-like hand beckoned. With a swift
glance at each other, they stepped forward, warily
loosening their daggers in their sheaths as they did so
     An aged crone, ragged, stooped with age, stole
from the shadows.
     "Aye, King Kull, what seek ye in Talunia?" her
voice was a shrill whisper.
     "Kull's fingers closed about his dagger hilt more
firmly as he replied guardedly.
"How know you my name?"
     "The marketplaces speak and hear," she answered
with a low cackle of unhallowed mirth. "A man saw
and recognized you today in the tavern and the word
has gone from mouth to mouth."
Kull cursed softly.
     "Hark ye!" hissed the woman. "I can lead ye to
those ye seek—if ye be willing to pay the price."
     "I will fill your apron with gold," Kull answered
swiftly.
     "Good. Listen now. Fenar and the countess are
apprized of your arrival. Even now they are preparing
their escape. They have hidden in a certain house
since early evening when they learned that you had
come, and soon they leave their hiding place—"
     "How can they leave the city?" interrupted KulL
"The gates are shut at sunset."
     "Horses await them at a postern gate in the east-
ern wall. The guard has been bribed. Fenar has many
friends in Talunia."
"Where hide they now?"
     The crone stretched forth a shrivelled hand. "A
token of good faith, lord king," she wheedled.


     Kull put a coin in her hand and she smirked and
made a grotesque curtsey.
     "Follow me, lord king," and she hobbled away
swiftly into the shadows.
     The king and his companion followed her uncer-
tainly through narrow, winding streets until she halted
before an unlit huge building in a squalid part of the
city.
     "They hide in a room at the head of the stairs
leading from the lower chamber opening into the
street, lord king."
     "How do you know that they do?" asked Kull sus-
piciously. "Why should they pick such a wretched
place in which to hide?"
     The woman laughed silently, rocking to and fro
in her uncanny mirth,
     "As soon as I made sure you were in Talunia, lord
king, I hurried to the mansion where they had their
abode and told them, offering to lead them to a place
of concealment! Ho, ho, ho! They paid me good gold
coins!"
     Kull stared at her silently.
     "Now, by Valka," said he, "I knew not civilization
could produce a thing like this woman. Here, female,
guide Brule to the gate where await the horses. Brule,
go with her there and await my coming—perchance
Fenar might give me the slip here—"
     "But Kull," protested Brule, "you go not into yon
dark house alone—bethink you this might all be an
ambush!"
     "This woman dare not betray me!" and the crone
shuddered at the grim response. "Haste ye!"
     As the two forms melted into the darkness, Kull
entered the house. Groping with his hands until his
feline-gifted eyes became accustomed to the total
darkness, he found the stair and ascended it, dagger in
hand, walking stealthily and on the lookout for creak-
ing steps. For all his size, the king moved as easily
and silently as a leopard, and had the watcher at the
head of the stairs been awake, it is doubtful if he
would have heard his coming,


     As it was, he awakened when Kull's hand was
clapped over his mouth, only to fall back temporarily
unconscious as Kull's fist found his jaw.
     The king crouched a moment above his victim,
straining his faculties for any sound that might beto-
ken that he had been heard. Utter silence reigned. He
stole to the door. Ah, his keen senses detected a low
confused mumble as of people whispering—a guarded
movement—with one leap Kull hurled the door open
and hurled himself into the room. He halted not to
weigh chances; there might have been a roomful of
assassins waiting for him for all he thought of the
thing.
     Everything then happened in an instant. Kull saw
a barren room, lighted by moonlight that streamed in
at the window, he caught a glimpse of two forms
clambering through this window, one apparently
carrying the other, a fleeting glance of a pair of dark,
daring eyes in a face of piquant beauty, another
laughing, reckless handsome face—all this he saw con-
fusedly as he cleared the whole room with a tigerish
bound, a roar of pure bestial ferocity breaking from
his lips at the sight of his foe escaping. The window
was empty even as he hurled across the sill, and rag-
ing and furious, he caught another glimpse, two forms
darting into the shadows of a nearby maze of build-
ings—a silvery mocking laugh floated back to him, an-
other stronger, more mocking. Kull flung a leg over
the sill and dropped the sheer thirty feet to the earth,
disdaining the rope ladder that still swung from the
window. He could not hope to follow them through
that maze of streets, which they doubtless knew much
better than he.
     Sure of their destination, however, he raced to-
ward the gate in the eastern wall, which from the
crone's description was not far distant. However, some
time elapsed before he arrived and when he did it was
only to find Brule and the hag there.
     "Nay," said Brule. "The horses are here, but none
has come for them."
     Kull cursed savagely. Fenar had tricked him after


all, and the woman also. Suspecting treachery, the
horses at that gate had only served as a blind. Fenar
was doubtless escaping through some other gate, then.
     "Swift!" shouted Kull. Haste to the camp and
have the men mount! I follow Fenar's trail."
     And leaping upon one of the horses he was gone.
Brule mounted the other and rode toward the camp.
The crone watched them go, shaking with unholy
mirth. After awhile she heard the drum of many
hoofs passing the city.
     "Ho, ho, ho! They ride into the sunrise—and who
rides back from beyond the sunrise?"
     All night Kull rode, striving to cut down the lead
the Farsunian and the girl had gained. He knew they
dared not remain in Zarfhaana and as the sea lay to
the north, and Thurania, Farsun's ancient enemy, to
the south, then there lay but one course for them—the
road to Grondar.
     The stars were paling when the ramparts of the
eastern hills rose starkly against the sky in front of the
king, and dawn was stealing over the grasslands as
Kull's weary steed toiled up the pass and halted a mo-
ment at the summit. Here the fugitives must have
passed for these cliffs stretched the whole length of
the Zarfhaanian border and the next nearest pass was
many a mile to the north. The Zarfhaanian in the
small tower that reared up in the pass, hailed the king,
but Kull replied with a gesture and rode on.
     At the crest of the pass he halted. There beyond
lay Grondar. The cliffs rose as abruptly on the eastern
side as they did upon the west and 'from their feet the
grasslands stretched away endlessly. Mile upon count-
less mile of tall waving savannah land met his eyes,
seemingly inhabited only by the herds of buffalo and
deer that roamed those wild expanses. The east was
fast reddening and as Kull sat his horse the sun
flamed up over the savannahs like a wild blaze of
fire, making it appear to the king as if all the grass-
lands were ablaze—limning the motionless horseman
against its flame, so that man and horse seemed a sin-
gle dark statue against the red morning to the riders


who were fust entering the first defile of the pass far
behind. Then he vanished from their gaze as he
spurred forward.
     "He rides into the sunrise," muttered the warriors.
     "Who rides back from the sunrise?"
     The sun was high in the sky when the troop over-
took Kull, the king having stopped to consult with his
companions.
      Have your Picts spread out," said Kull. "Fenar
and the countess will try to turn south any time now,
for no man cares to ride any further into Grondar than
need be. They might even seek to get past us and win
back into Zarfhaana."
     So they rode in open formation, Brute's Picts
ranging like lean wolves far afield to the north and
the south.
     But the fugitives' trail led straight onward,
Kull's trained eyes easily following the course through
the tall grass, marking where the grass had been tram-
pled and beaten down by the horses' hoofs. Evidently
the countess and her lover rode alone.
     And on into the wild country of Grondar they
rode, pursuers and pursued.
     How Fenar managed to keep that lead, Kull
could not understand, but the soldiers were forced to
spare their horses, while Fenar had extra steeds arid
could change from one to another, thus keeping each
comparatively fresh.
     Kull had sent no envoy to the king of Grondar.
The Grondarians were a wild, half-civilized race, of
whom little was known by the rest of the world, save
that their raiding parties sometimes swept out of the
grasslands to sweep the borders of Thurania and the
lesser nations with torch and sword. Westward, their
borders were plainly marked, clearly defined and
carefully guarded, that is by their neighbors, but how
far easterly their kingdom extended no one knew. It
was vaguely supposed that their country extended to,
and possibly included, that vast expanse of untenable
wilderness spoken of in myth and legend as The
World's End.


     Several days of hard riding had passed with nei-
ther sight of the fugitives nor any other human, when a
Pictish rider sighted a band of horsemen approaching
from the south.
     Kull halted his force and waited. They rode up
and halted at a distance, a band of some four hundred
Grondarian warriors, fierce, leanly-built men, clad in
leather garments and rude armor.
     Their leader rode forth. "Stranger, what do ye in
this land?"
     Kull answered, "We pursue a disobedient subject
and her lover, and we ride in peace. We have no dis-
pute with Grondar."
     The Grondarian sneered. "Men who ride in Gron-
dar carry their lives in their right hands, stranger."
     'Then, by Valka," roared Kull, losing patience,
"my right hand is stronger to defend than all Grondar
is to assail! Stand aside ere we trample you!"
     "Lances at rest!" came Kelkor's curt voice; the
forest of spears lowered as one, the warriors leaning
forward.
     The Grondarians gave back before that formida-
ble array, unable, as they knew, to stand in the open
the charge of fully armed horsemen. They reined
aside, sitting their horses sullenly as the Valusians
swept by them. The leader shouted after them.
     "Ride on, fools! Who ride beyond the sunrise--
return not!"
     They rode, and though bands of horsemen circled
their tracks at a distance like hawks, and they kept a
heavy guard at night, the riders came not nearer nor
were the outriders molested in any way,
     The grasslands continued with never a hill or for-
est to break their monotony. Sometimes they came
upon the almost obliterated ruins of some ancient city,
mute reminders of the bloody days when, ages and
ages since, the ancestors of the Grondarians had ap-
peared from nowhere in particular and had conquered
the original inhabitants of the land. They sighted no
inhabited cities, none of the rough habitations of the
Grondarians, for their way led through an especially


wild, unfrequented part of the land. It became evi-
dent that Fenar intended not to turn back; his trail
led straight east and whether he hoped to find sanc-
tuary somewhere in that nameless land or whether he
was seeking merely to tire his pursuers out, could not
be said.
     Long days of riding and then they came to a
great river meandering through the plain. At its banks
the grasslands came to an abrupt halt, and beyond, on
the further side, a barren desert stretched to the hori-
zon.
     An ancient man stood upon the bank and a large,
flat boat floated on the sullen surface of the water.
The man was aged, but mightily built, as huge as Kull
himself. He was clad only in ragged garments, seem-
ingly as ancient as himself, but there was something
kingly and awe-inspiring about the man. His snowy
hair fell to his shoulders and his huge white beard,
wild and unkempt, came almost to his waist. From be-
neath white, lowering brows, great luminous eyes
blazed, undimmed by age.
     "Stranger, who have the bearing of a king," said
he to Kull in a great deep resonant voice, "would ye
cross the river?"
     "Aye," said Kull, "if they we seek crossed."
     "A man and a girl rode my ferry yesterday at
dawn," was the answer.
     "Name of Valka!" swore Kull. "I could find it in
me to admire the fool's courage! What city lies beyond
this river, ferryman?"
     "No city lies beyond," said the Elder man. This
river marks the border of Grondar—and the world!"
     "How!" ejaculated Kull. "Have we ridden so far?
I had thought that the desert which is the end of the
world was part of Grondar's realm."
     "Nay. Grondar ends here. Here is the end of the
world; beyond is magic and the unknown. Here is the
boundary of the world; there begins the realm of hor-
ror and mysticism. This is the river Stagus and I am
Karon the Ferryman."


     Kull looked at him in wonder, little knowing that
he gazed upon one who should go down the dim cen-
turies until myth and legend had changed the truth
and Karon the Ferryman had become the boat-man of
Hades.
     "You are very aged," said Kull curiously, while
the Valusians looked on the man with wonder and the
savage Picts in superstitious awe.
     "Aye. I am a man of the Elder Race, who ruled
the world before Valusia was, or Grondar or
Zarfhaana, riders from the sunset. Ye would cross this
river? Many a warrior, many a king, have I ferried
across. Remember, they who ride beyond the sunrise,
return not! For of all the thousands who have crossed
the Stagus, not one has returned. Three hundred years
have passed since first I saw the light, king of Valusia.
I ferried the army of King Gaar the Conqueror when
he rode into World's End with all his mighty hosts.
Seven days they were passing over, yet no man of
them came back. Aye, the sound of battle and the
clash of swords clanged out over the wastelands for a
long while from sun to sun, but when the moon shone
all was silence. Mark this, Kull, no man has ever re-
turned from beyond the Stagus. Nameless horrors lurk
in yonder lands and terrible are the ghastly shapes of
doom I glimpse beyond the river in the vagueness of
dusk and the grey of early dawn. Mark ye, Kull."
     Kull turned in his saddle and eyed his men.
     "Here my commands cease," said he. "As for my-
self, I ride on Fenar's trail if it lead to Hell and be-
yond. Yet I bid no man follow beyond this river. Ye
all have my permission to return to Valusia, nor shall
any word of blame ever be spoken of you."
     Brule reined to Kull's side.
     "I ride with the king," he said curtly, and his Picts
raised an acquiescing shout. Kelkor rode forward.
     "They who would return, take a single pace for-
ward," said he.
     The metal rank's sat motionless as statues.
     "They ride, Kull," grinned Brule.


     A fierce pride rose in the king's savage soul. He
spoke a single sentence, a sentence which thrilled his
warriors more than an accolade.
     "Ye are men."
     Karon ferried them across, rowing over and re-
turning until the entire force stood on the eastern
bank. And though the boat was heavy and the ancient
man rowed alone, yet his clumsy oars drove the un-
wieldy craft swiftly through the water and at the last
journey he was no more weary than at the start.
     Kull spake. "Since the desert throngs with wild
things, how is it that none come into the lands of
men?
     Karon pointed to the river, and looking closely
Kull saw that the river swarmed with serpents and
small freshwater sharks.
     "No man swims this river," said the ferryman.
"Neither man nor mammoth."
     "Forward," said Kull. "Forward; we ride. The
land is free before us."



Untitled
(Fragment)
     Three men sat at a table playing a game. Across
the sill of an open window there whispered a faint
breeze, blowing the filmy curtains about and bearing
to the players the incense of roses and vines and grow-
ing green things.
     Three men sat at a table—one was a king—one a
prince of an ancient house—one was the chief of a ter-
rible and barbaric nation.
     "Score!" quoth Kull, king of Valusia, as he moved
one of the ivory figures. "My wizard menaces your
warrior, Brule."
     Brule nodded. He was not as large a man as the
king, but he was firmly knit, compactly yet lithely
built. Kull was the tiger, Brule was the leopard. Brule
was a Pict and dark like all his race. Immobile fea-
tures set off a fine head, powerful neck, heavy trim
shoulders and a deep chest. These features, with the
muscular legs and arms, were characteristics of the
nation to which he belonged. But in one respect Brule
differed from his tribesmen, for whereas their eyes
were mostly hard scintillant brown or wicked black,
his were a deep volcanic blue. Somewhere in his
blood was a vagrant strain of Celt or of those scat-
tered savages who lived in ice caves close to the Arc-
tic Circle.


     "A wizard is a hard man to beat, Kull," said this
man, "in this game or in the real red game of battle--
well, there was once when my life hung on the bal-
ance of power between a Pick-land wizard and me—he
had his charms and I had a well-forged blade—"
     He paused to drink deeply from a crimson goblet
which stood at his elbow.
     Tell us the tale, Brule," urged the third player.
Ronaro, prince of the great Atl Volante house, was a
slim elegant young man with a splendid head, fine
dark eyes and a keen intellectual face. He was the pa-
trician—the highest type of intelligent aristocracy any
land has ever produced. These other two in a way
were his antithesis. He was born in a palace; of the
others, one had been born in a wattle hut, the other in
a cave. Ronaro traced his descent back two thousand
years, through a line of dukes, knights, princes, states-
men, poets, and longs. Brule could trace his ancestors
vaguely for a few hundred years and he named among
them skin-clad chiefs, painted and feathered warriors,
shamans with bison-skull masks and finger-bone neck-
laces—one or two island kings who held court in mud
huts, and a legendary hero or two, semi-deified for
feats of personal strength or wholesale murder. Kull
did not know who his own parents were.
     But in the countenance of all three gleamed an
equality beyond the shackles of birth and circum-
stance-the aristocracy of the Man. These men were
natural patricians, each in his own way. Ronaro's
ancestors were kings; Brule's, skin-clad chiefs; Kull's
might have been slaves or chieftains. But about each
of the three was that indefinable element which sets
the superior man apart and shatters the delusion that
all men were born equal.
     "Well," Brule's eyes filled with brooding reminis-
cence, "it happened in my early youth; yes, in my first
war raid. Oh, I had killed a man or so in the fishing
brawls and at the tribal feasts, but I had not yet been
ornamented with the scars of the warrior clan—" he
indicated his bare breast where the listeners saw three


small horizontal marks, barely discernible in the sun-
bronze of the Pict's mighty chest
     Ronaro watched him with a never-failing interest
as he talked. These fierce barbarians with their primi-
tive vitality and straight-forwardness intrigued the
young prince. Years in Valusia as one of the empire's
strongest allies had wrought an outward change on
the Pict—had not tamed him, but had given him a ve-
neer of culture, education and reserve. But beneath
that veneer burned the blind black savage of old. To a
greater extent had this change worked on Kull, once
warrior of Atlantis, now king of Valusia.
     "You, Kull, and you, Ronaro," Brule said, "we of
The Islands are all one blood, but of many tribes, and
each tribe has customs and traditions peculiar to itself
alone. We all acknowledge Nial of the Tatheli as over-
king, but his rule is loose. He does not interfere with
our affairs among ourselves, nor does he levy tribute
or taxes, as the Valusians call it, from any except the
Nargi and the Dano and the Whale-slayers who live
on the isle of Tathel with his own tribe. These he pro-
tects against other tribes and for that reason he col-
lects toll. But he takes no toll of my tribe, the Borni,
nor of any other tribe. Neither does he interfere when
two tribes go to war—unless some tribe encroaches on
the three who pay tribute. When the war is fought and
won, he arbitrates the matter, and his judgment is fi-
nal—what stolen women shall be returned, what pay-
ment of war canoes made, what blood price paid, and
so on. And when the Lemurians or the Celts or any
foreign nation or band of reavers come against us, he
sends forth for all tribes to put aside their quarrels
and fight side by side. Which is a good thing. He
might be a supreme tyrant if he liked, for his own
tribe is very strong, and with the aid of Valusia he
might do as he liked-but he knows that though he
might, with his tribes and their allies, crush all the
other tribes, there would never be peace again, but
revolt as long as a Borni or a Sungara or a Wolf-slayer
or any of the tribesmen was left alive."


Epilog
Then the Cataclysm rocked the world. Atlantis
and Lemuria sank, and the Pictish Islands were
heaved up to form the mountain peaks of a new conti-
nent. Sections of the Thurian Continent vanished un-
der the waves, or, sinking, formed great inland lakes
and seas. Volcanoes broke forth and terrific earth-
quakes shook down the shining cities of the empires,
Whole nations were blotted out.
   The barbarians fared a little better than the civi-
lized races. The inhabitants of the Pictish Islands
were destroyed, but a great colony of them, settled
among the mountains of Valusia's southern frontier to
serve as a buffer against foreign invasion, was un-
touched. The continental kingdom of the Atlanteans
likewise escaped the common ruin, and to it came
thousands of their tribesmen in ships from the sinking
land. Many Lemurians escaped to the eastern coast of
the Thurian Continent, which was comparatively un-
touched. There they were enslaved by the ancient
race which already dwelt there, and their history, for
thousands of years, is a history of brutal servitude.
     In the western part of the continent, changing
conditions created strange forms of plant and animal
life. Thick jungles covered the plains, great rivers cut
their roads to the sea, wild mountains were heaved
up, and lakes covered the ruins of old cities in fertile


valleys. To the continental kingdom of the Atlanteans,
from sunken areas, swarmed myriads of beasts and
savages—ape-men arid apes. Forced to battle contin-
ually for their lives, they yet managed to retain vestiges
of their former state of highly advanced barbarism.
Robbed of metals and ores, they became workers
in stone like their distant ancestors, and had at-
tained a real artistic level, when their struggling culture
came into contact with the powerful Pictish nation,
The Picts had also reverted to flint, but had ad-
vanced more rapidly in the matter of population and
war-science. They had none of the Atlanteans' artistic
nature; they were a ruder, more practical, more pro-
lific race. They left no pictures painted or carved on
ivory, as did their enemies, but they left remarkably
efficient flint weapons in plenty.
     These stone age kingdoms clashed, and in a series
of bloody wars, the outnumbered Atlanteans were
hurled back into a state of savagery, and the evolution
of the Picts was halted. Five hundred years after the
Cataclysm the barbaric kingdoms had vanished. They
are now a nation of savages—the Picts—carrying on con-
tinual warfare with tribes of savages—the Atlanteans,
The Picts had the advantage of numbers and unity,
whereas the Atlanteans had fallen into loosely-knit
clans. That was the west of that day.
     In the distant east, cut off from the rest of the
world by the heaving up of gigantic mountains and
the forming of a chain of vast lakes, the Lemurians are
toiling as slaves of their ancient masters. The far south
is still veiled in mystery. Untouched by the Cata-
clysm, its destiny is still pre-human. Of the civilized
races of the Thurian Continent, a remnant of one of
the non-Valusian nations dwells among the low moun-
tains of the southeast—the Zhemri. Here and there
about the world are scattered clans of apish savages,
entirely ignorant of the rise and fall of the great civili-
zations. But in the far north another people are slowly
coming into existence.
At the time of the Cataclysm, a band of savages;
whose development was not much above that of the


Neanderthal, fled to the north to escape destruction
They found the snow-countries inhabited only by
species of ferocious snow-apes—huge shaggy white an-
imals, apparently native to that climate. These they
fought and drove beyond the arctic circle, to perish,
as the savages thought. The latter, then, adapted
themselves to their hardy new environment and
throve.
     After Pictish—AtIantean wars had destroyed the
beginnings of what might have been a new culture,
another, lesser cataclysm further altered the appear-
ance of the original continent, left a great inland sea
where the chain of lakes had been, to further separate
west from east, and the attendant earthquakes, floods
and volcanoes completed the ruin of the babarians
which their tribal wars had begun.
A thousand years after the lesser cataclysm, the
western world is seen to be a wild country of jungles
and lakes and torrential rivers. Among the forest-
covered hills of the northwest exist wandering bands
of ape-men without human speech, or the knowledge
of fire or the use of implements. They are the descen-
dants of the Atlanteans, sunk back into the squalling
chaos of jungle-bestiality from which ages ago their
ancestors so laboriously crawled. To the southwest
dwell scattered the clans of degraded, cave-dwelling
savages, whose speech is of the most primitive form,
yet who still retain the name of Picts, which has come
to mean merely a term designating men—themselves—
to distinguish them from the true beasts with which
they contend for life and food. It is their only link
with their former stage. Neither the squalid Picts nor
the apish Atlanteans have any contact with other
tribes or peoples.
     Far to the east, the Lemurians, levelled almost to
a bestial plane themselves by the brutishness of their
slavery, have risen and destroyed their masters. They
are savages stalking among the ruins of a strange civi-
lization. The survivors of that civilization, who have
escaped the fury of their slaves, have come westward
They fall upon that mysterious pre-human kingdom of


the south and overthrow it, substituting their own cul-
ture, modified by contact with the older one. The
newer kingdom is called Stygia, and remnants of the
older nation seemed to have survived, and even been
worshipped, after the race as a whole had been de-
stroyed,
     Here and there in the world small groups of sav-
ages are showing signs of an upward trend; these are
scattered and unclassified. But in the north, the tribes
are growing. These people are called Hyborians, or
Hybori; their god was Bori—some great chief, whom
legend made even more ancient as the king who led
them into the north, in the days of the great Cata-
clysm, which the tribes remember only in distorted
folklore.
     They have spread over the north, and are pushing
southward in leisurely treks. So far they have not
come in contact with any other races; their wars have
been with one another. Fifteen hundred years in the
north country have made them a tall, tawny-haired,
gray-eyed race, vigorous and war-like, and already ex-
hibiting a well-defined artistry and poetism of nature.
They still live mostly by the hunt, but the southern
tribes have been raising cattle for some centuries.
There is one exception in their so far complete isola-
tion from other races: a wanderer into the far north
returned with the news that the supposedly deserted
ice wastes were inhabited by an extensive tribe of
ape-like men, descended, he swore, from the beasts
driven out of the more habitable land by the ancestors
of the Hyborians. He urged that a large war-party be
sent beyond the arctic to exterminate these beasts,
whom he swore were evolving into true men. He was
jeered at; a small band of adventurous young warriors
followed him into the north, but none returned.
     But tribes of the Hyborians were drifting south,
and as the population increased, this movement be-
came extensive. The following age was an epoch of
wandering and conquest Across the history of the
world tribes and drifts of tribes moved arid shifted in an
ever changing panorama,


Look at the world five hundred years late
Tribes of tawny-haired Hyborians have moved south-
ward and westward, conquering and destroying many
of the small unclassified clans. Absorbing the blood of
conquered races, already the descendants of the older
drifts have begun to show modified racial traits, and
these mixed races are attacked fiercely by new, purer
blooded drifts, and swept before them as a broom
sweeps debris impartially, to become even more
mixed and mingled in the tangled debris of races an a
tag-ends of races.
     As yet the conquerors have not come in contact
with the older races. To the southeast, the descen-
dants of the Zhemri, given impetus by new blood re-
sulting from admixture with some unclassified tribe,
are beginning to seek to revive some faint shadow of
their ancient culture. To the west, apish Atlanteans
are beginning the long climb upward. They have com-
pleted the cycle of existence; they have long forgotten
their former existence as men; unaware of any other
former state, they are starting the climb unhelped and
unhindered by human memories. To the south of
them, the Picts remain savages, apparently defying
the laws of Nature by neither progressing nor retro-
gressing. Far to the south dreams the ancient mysteri-
ous kingdom of Stygia. On its eastern borders wander
clans of nomadic savages, already known as the Sons
of Shem.
     Next to the Picts, in the broad valley of Zingg,
protected by great mountains, a nameless band of prim-
itives, tentatively classified as akin to the Shemites,
has evolved an advanced agricultural system and exis-
tence.
     Another factor has added to the impetus of Hy-
borian drift. A tribe of that race has discovered the
use of stone in building, and the first Hyborian king
dom has come into being—the rude and barbaric king
dom of Hyperborea, which had its beginning in a
crude fortress of boulders heaped to repel tribal at-
tack. The people of this tribe soon abandoned their
horse-hide tents for stone houses, crudely but mightily


built, and thus protected, they grew strong. There are
few more dramatic events in history than the rise of
the rude, fierce kingdom of Hyperborea, whose peo-
ple turned abruptly from their nomadic life to rear
dwellings of naked stone, surrounded by cyclopean
walls—a race scarcely emerged from the polished
stone age, who had by a freak of chance, learned the
first rude principles or architecture.
     The rise of this kingdom drove forth many other
tribes, for, defeated in war, or refusing to become
tributary to their castle-dwelling kinsmen, many clans
set forth on long treks that took them halfway around
the world. And already the more northern tribes are
beginning to be harried by gigantic blond savages,
not much more advanced than ape-men.
     The tale of the next thousand years is the tale of
the rise of the Hyborians, whose war-like tribes domi-
nate the western world. Rude kingdoms are taking
shape. The tawny-haired invaders have encountered
the Picts, driving them into the barren lands of the
west. To the northwest, the descendants of the Atlan-
teans, climbing unaided from apedorn into primitive
savagery, have not yet met the conquerors. Far to the
east, the Lemurians are evolving a strange semi-
civilization of their own. To the south, the Hyborians
have founded the kingdom of Koth, on the borders of
those pastoral countries known as the Lands of Shem,
and the savages of those lands, partly through contact
with the Hyborians, partly through contact with the
Stygians who have ravaged them for centuries, are
emerging from barbarism. The blond savages of the
far north have grown in power and numbers so that
the northern Hyborian tribes move southward, driv-
ing their kindred clans before them. The ancient king-
dom of Hyperborea is overthrown by one of those
northern tribes, which, however, retains the old name,
Southeast of Hyperborea, a kingdom of the Zhemri
has come into being, under the name of Zamora. To
the southwest, a tribe of Picts have invaded the fertile
Valley of Zingg, conquered the agricultural people;
there, and settled among them. This mixed race was in


turn conquered later by a roving tribe of Hybori, and
from these mingled elements came the kingdom of
Zingara.    
     Five hundred years later, the kingdoms of the
world are clearly defined. The kingdoms of the Hy-
borians—Aquilonia, Nemedia, Brythunia, Hyperborea,
Koth, Ophir, Argos, Corinthia, and one known as the
Border Kingdom—dominate the western world. Za-
mora lies to the east, and Zingara to the southwest of
these kingdoms—peoples alike in darkness of complex-
ion and exotic habits, but otherwise unrelated. Far to
the south sleeps Stygia, untouched by foreign inva-
sion, but the people of Shem have exchanged the
Stygian yoke for the less galling one of Koth. The
dusky masters have been driven south of the great
river Styx, Nilus, or Nile, which, flowing north from
the shadowy hinterlands, turns almost at right angles
and flows almost due west through the pastoral mead-
owlands of Shem, to empty into the great sea. North
of Aquilonia, the westernmost Hyborian kingdom, are
the Cimmerians, ferocious savages, untamed by the
invaders, but advancing rapidly because of contact
with them; they are the descendants of the Atlanteans,
now progressing more steadily than their old enemies,
the Picts, who dwell in the wilderness west of Aqui-
lonia.
—The Hyborian Age


ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ROBERT ERVIN HOWARD was born in the small town of
Cross Plains, Texas, in 1906. His first story, "Spear and
Fang," was published when he was eighteen, in Weird
Tales. Over the next twelve years, Howard wrote over a
million words of fantasy. Westerns, pirate yarns, detective
and adventure stories for the pulp magazines. He is best
known for his larger-than-life heroes: King Kull, Solomon
Kane, Bran Mat Morn, and the greatest hero of them all,
Conan, who swagger through exotic and far-off lands and
times having fabulous adventures, conquering kingdoms'
and beautiful women with equal ease. Howard committed
suicide on June 11, 1930, when he heard his mother had
lapsed into a terminal coma.