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Title: The Footfalls WithinAuthor: Robert E.Howard* A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook *eBook No.: 0600861h.htmlLanguage: EnglishDate first posted: March 2006Most recent update: September 2020This eBook was produced by Roy Glashan.Project Gutenberg of Australia eBooks are created from printededitions which are in the public domain in Australia, unless acopyright notice is included. We do NOT keep any eBooks incompliance with a particular paper edition.Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to checkthe copyright laws for your country before downloading orredistributing this file.This eBook is made available at no cost and with almost norestrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-useit under the terms of the Project Gutenberg of Australia Licensewhich may be viewed online athttp://gutenberg.net.au/licence.htmlTo contact Project Gutenberg of Australia go tohttp://gutenberg.net.au
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Weird Tales, September 1931, with"The Footfalls Within"
Kane placed his back against a huge tree and his
long rapier played a shining wheel about him.
A tale of Solomon Kane, an African slave train,and the
shuddery horror of dim footfalls in a long-forgotten tomb.
SOLOMON KANE gazed sombrely at the native womanwho lay dead at his feet. Little more than a girl she was, but herwasted limbs and staring eyes showed that she had suffered muchbefore death brought her merciful relief. Kane noted the chaingalls on her limbs, the deep crisscrossed scars on her back, themark of the yoke on her neck. His cold eyes deepened strangely,showing chill glints and lights like clouds passing across depthsof ice.
"Even into this lonesome land they come," he muttered. "I hadnot thought—"
He raised his head and gazed eastward. Black dots against theblue wheeled and circled.
"The kites mark their trail," muttered the tall Englishman."Destruction goeth before them and death followeth after. Woe untoye, sons of iniquity, for the wrath of God is upon ye. The cords beloosed on the iron necks of the hounds of hate and the bow ofvengeance is strung. Ye are proud-stomached and strong, and thepeople cry out beneath your feet, but retribution cometh in theblackness of midnight and the redness of dawn."
He shifted the belt that held his heavy pistols and the keendirk, instinctively touched the long rapier at his hip, and wentstealthily but swiftly eastward. A cruel anger burned in his deepeyes like blue volcanic fires burning beneath leagues of ice, andthe hand that gripped his long, cat-headed stave hardened intoiron.
After some hours of steady striding, he came within hearing ofthe slave train that wound its laborious way through the jungle.The piteous cries of the slaves, the shouts and curses of thedrivers, and the cracking of the whips came plainly to his ears.Another hour brought him even with them, and gliding along throughthe jungle parallel to the trail taken by the slavers, he spiedupon them safely. Kane had fought Indians in Darien and had learnedmuch of their woodcraft.
More than a hundred natives, young men and women, staggeredalong the trail, stark naked and made fast together by cruelyoke-like affairs of wood. These yokes, rough and heavy, fittedover their necks and linked them together, two by two. The yokeswere in turn fettered together, making one long chain. Of thedrivers there were fifteen Arabs and some seventy black warriors,whose weapons and fantastic apparel showed them to be of someeastern tribe—one of those tribes subjugated and made Moslemsand allies by the conquering Arabs.
Five Arabs walked ahead of the train with some thirty of theirwarriors, and five brought up the rear with the rest of the negrowarriors. The rest marched beside the staggering slaves, urgingthem along with shouts and curses and with long, cruel whips whichbrought spurts of blood at almost every blow. These slavers werefools as well as rogues, reflected Kane—not more than half ofthem would survive the hardships of the trek to the coast.
He wondered at the presence of these raiders, for this countrylay far to the south of the districts which they usuallyfrequented. But avarice can drive men far, as the Englishman knew.He had dealt with these gentry of old. Even as he watched, oldscars burned in his back—scars made by Moslem whips in aTurkish galley. And deeper still burned Kane's unquenchablehate.
The Puritan followed, shadowing his foes like a ghost, and as hestole through the jungle, he racked his brain for a plan. How mighthe prevail against that horde? All of the Arabs and many of theirallies were armed with guns—long, clumsy firelock affairs, itis true, but guns just the same, enough to awe any tribe of nativeswho might oppose them. Some carried in their wide girdles long,silver-chased pistols of more effective pattern—flintlocks ofMoorish and Turkish make.
Kane followed like a brooding ghost and his rage and hatred ateinto his soul like a canker. Each crack of the whips was like ablow on his own shoulders. The heat and cruelty of the tropics playqueer tricks. Ordinary passions become monstrous things; irritationruns to a berserker rage; anger flames into unexpected madness andmen kill in a red mist of passion, and wonder, aghast,afterward.
The fury Solomon Kane felt would have been enough at any timeand in any place to shake a man to his foundation. Now it assumedmonstrous proportions, so that Kane shivered as if with a chill;iron claws scratched at his brain and he saw the slaves and theslavers through a crimson mist. Yet he might not have put hishate-born insanity into action had it not been for a mishap.
One of the slaves, a slim young girl, suddenly faltered andslipped to the earth, dragging her yoke-mate with her. A tall,hook-nosed Arab yelled savagely and lashed her viciously. Heryoke-mate staggered partly up, but the girl remained prone,writhing weakly beneath the lash but evidently unable to rise. Shewhimpered pitifully between her parched lips, and other slaverscame about her, their whips descending on her quivering flesh inslashes of red agony.
A half hour of rest and a little water would have revived her,but the Arabs had no time to spare. Solomon, biting his arm untilhis teeth met in the flesh as he fought for control, thanked Godthat the lashing had ceased and steeled himself for the swift flashof the dagger that would put the child beyond torment. But theArabs were in a mood for sport. Since the girl would fetch them noprofit on the market block, they would utilize her for theirpleasure—and their humour was such as to turn men's blood toicy water.
A shout from the first whipper brought the rest crowding around,their bearded faces split in grins of delighted anticipation, whilethe black warriors edged nearer, their brutish eyes gleaming.The wretched slaves realized their masters' intentions and achorus of pitiful cries rose from them.
Kane, sick with horror, realized, too, that the girl's was to beno easy death. He knew what the tall Moslem intended to do, as hestooped over her with a keen dagger such as the Arabs used forskinning game. Madness overcame the Englishman. He valued his ownlife little; he had risked it without thought for the sake of apagan child or a small animal. Yet he would not have premeditatedlythrown away his one hope of succouring the wretches in the train.But he acted without conscious thought. A pistol was smoking in hishand and the tall butcher was down in the dust of the trail withhis brains oozing out, before Kane realized what he had done.
He was almost as astonished as the Arabs, who stood frozen for amoment and then burst into a medley of yells. Several threw uptheir clumsy firelocks and sent their heavy balls crashing throughthe trees, and the rest, thinking no doubt that they were ambushed,led a reckless charge into the jungle. The bold suddenness of thatmove was Kane's undoing. Had they hesitated a moment longer hemight have faded away unobserved, but as it was he saw no choicebut to meet them openly and sell his life as highly as hecould.
And indeed it was with a certain ferocious fascination that hefaced his howling attackers. They halted in sudden amazement as thetall, grim Englishman stepped from behind his tree, and in thatinstant one of them died with a bullet from Kane's remaining pistolin his heart. Then with yells of savage rage they flung themselveson their lone defier.
Solomon Kane placed his back against a huge tree and his longrapier played a shining wheel about him. An Arab and three of hisequally fiercer allies were hacking at him with their heavy curvedblades while the rest milled about, snarling like wolves, as theysought to drive in blade or ball without maiming one of their ownnumber.
THE flickering rapier parried the whistling scimitars and theArab died on its point, which seemed to hesitate in his heart onlyan instant before it pierced the brain of a sword-wielding warrior.Another attacker dropped his sword and leaped in to grapple atclose quarters. He was disembowelled by the dirk in Kane's lefthand, and the others gave back in sudden fear. A heavy ball smashedagainst the tree close to Kane's head and he tensed himself tospring and die in the thick of them. Then their sheikh lashed themon with his long whip, and Kane heard him shouting fiercely for hiswarriors to take the infidel alive. Kane answered the command witha sudden cast of his dirk, which hummed so close to the sheikh'shead that it slit his turban and sank deep in the shoulder of onebehind him.
The sheikh drew his silver-chased pistols, threatening his ownmen with death if they did not take this fierce opponent, and theycharged in again desperately. One of the black men ran full uponKane's sword and an Arab behind the fellow, with ruthless craft,thrust the screaming wretch suddenly forward on the weapon, drivingit hilt-deep in his writhing body, fouling the blade. Before Kanecould wrench it clear, with a yell of triumph the pack rushed in onhim and bore him down by sheer weight of numbers. As they grappledhim from all sides, the Puritan wished in vain for the dirk he hadthrown away. But even so, his taking was none too easy.
Blood spattered and faces caved in beneath his iron-hard fiststhat splintered teeth and shattered bone. A black warrior reeled awaydisabled from a vicious drive of knee to groin. Even when they hadhim stretched out and piled man-weight on him, until he could nolonger strike with fists or foot, his long lean fingers sankfiercely through a black beard to lock about a corded throat in agrip that took the power of three strong men to break and left thevictim gasping and green-faced.
At last, panting from the terrific struggle, they had him boundhand and foot and the sheikh, thrusting his pistols back into hissilken sash, came striding to stand and look down at his captive.Kane glared up at the tall, lean frame, at the hawk-like face withits black curled beard and arrogant brown eyes.
"I am the sheikh Hassim ben Said," said the Arab. "Who areyou?"
"My name is Solomon Kane," growled the Puritan in the sheikh'sown language. "I am an Englishman, you heathen jackal."
The dark eyes of the Arab flickered with interest.
"Suleiman Kahani," said he, giving the Arabesque equivalent ofthe English name. "I have heard of you—you have fought theTurks betimes and the Barbary corsairs have licked their woundsbecause of you."
Kane deigned no reply. Hassim shrugged his shoulders.
"You will bring a fine price," said he. "Mayhap I will take youto Stamboul, where there are Shahs who would desire such a manamong their slaves. And I mind me now of one Kemal Bey, a man ofships, who wears a deep scar across his face of your making and whocurses the name of Englishman. He will pay me a high price for you.And behold, oh Frank, I do you the honour of appointing you aseparate guard. You shall not walk in the yoke-chain but free savefor your hands."
Kane made no answer, and at a sign from the sheikh, he washauled to his feet and his bonds loosened except for his hands,which they left bound firmly behind him. A stout cord was loopedabout his neck and the other end of this was given into the hand ofa huge black warrior who bore in his free hand a great curvedscimitar.
"And now what think ye of my favour to you, Frank?" queried thesheikh.
"I am thinking," answered Kane in a slow, deep voice of menace,"that I would trade my soul's salvation to face you and your sword,alone and unarmed, and to tear the heart from your breast with mynaked fingers."
Such was the concentrated hate in his deep resounding voice, andsuch primal, unconquerable fury blazed from his terrible eyes, thatthe hardened and fearless chieftain blanched and involuntarilyrecoiled as if from a maddened beast.
Then Hassim recovered his poise and with a short word to hisfollowers, strode to the head of the cavalcade. Kane noted withthankfulness that the respite occasioned by his capture had giventhe girl who had fallen a chance to rest and revive. The skinningknife had not had time to more than touch her; she was able to reelalong. Night was not far away. Soon the slavers would be forced tohalt and camp.
The Englishman perforce took up the trek, his black guard remaining afew paces behind with a huge blade ever ready. Kane also noted witha touch of grim vanity, that three more warriors marched closebehind, muskets ready and matches burning. They had tasted hisprowess and they were taking no chances. His weapons had beenrecovered and Hassim had promptly appropriated all except thecat-headed ju-ju stave. This had been contemptuously cast aside byhim and taken up by one of the blacks.
THE Englishman was presently aware that a lean, grey-beardedArab was walking along at his side. This Arab seemed desirous ofspeaking but strangely timid, and the source of his timidityseemed, curiously enough, the ju-ju stave which he had taken fromthe black man who had picked it up, and which he now turned uncertainlyin his hands.
"I am Yussef the Hadji," said this Arab suddenly. "I have naughtagainst you. I had no hand in attacking you and would be yourfriend if you would let me. Tell me, Frank, whence comes this staffand how comes it into your hands?"
Kane's first inclination was to consign his questioner to theinfernal regions, but a certain sincerity of manner in the old manmade him change his mind and he answered: "It was given me by myblood-brother—a black magician of the Slave Coast, namedN'Longa."
The old Arab nodded and muttered in his beard and presently senta black running forward to bid Hassim return. The tall sheikhpresently came striding back along the slow-moving column, with aclank and jingle of daggers and sabres, with Kane's dirk andpistols thrust into his wide sash.
"Look, Hassim," the old Arab thrust forward the stave, "you castit away without knowing what you did!"
"And what of it?" growled the sheikh. "I see naught but astaff—sharp-pointed and with the head of a cat on the otherend—a staff with strange infidel carvings upon it."
The older man shook it at him in excitement: "This staff isolder than the world! It holds mighty magic! I have read of it inthe old iron-bound books and Mohammed—on whompeace!—himself hath spoken of it by allegory and parable! Seethe cat-head upon it? It is the head of a goddess of ancient Egypt!Ages ago, before Mohammed taught, before Jerusalem was, the priestsof Bast bore this rod before the bowing, chanting worshippers! Withit Musa did wonders before Pharaoh and when the Yahudi fled fromEgypt they bore it with them. And for centuries it was the sceptreof Israel and Judah and with it Suleiman ben Daoud drove forth theconjurers and magicians and prisoned the efreets and the evilgenii! Look! Again in the hands of a Suleiman we find the ancientrod!"
Old Yussef had worked himself into a pitch of almost fanaticfervour but Hassim merely shrugged his shoulders.
"It did not save the Jews from bondage nor this Suleiman fromour captivity," said he. "I value it not as much as I esteem thelong thin blade with which he loosed the souls of three of my bestswordsmen."
Yussef shook his head. "Your mockery will bring you to no goodend, Hassim. Some day you will meet a power that will not dividebefore your sword or fall to your bullets. I will keep the staff,and I warn you—abuse not the Frank. He has borne the holy andterrible staff of Suleiman and Musa and the Pharaohs, and who knowswhat magic he has drawn there from? For it is older than the worldand has known the terrible hands of strange pre-Adamite priests inthe silent cities beneath the seas, and has drawn from an ElderWorld mystery and magic unguessed by humankind. There were strangekings and stranger priests when the dawns were young, and evil was,even in their day. And with this staff they fought the evil whichwas ancient when their strange world was young, so many millions ofyears ago that a man would shudder to count them."
Hassim answered impatiently and strode away with old Yusseffollowing him persistently and chattering away in a querulous tone.Kane shrugged his mighty shoulders. With what he knew of thestrange powers of that strange staff, he was not one to questionthe old man's assertions, fantastic as they seemed.
This much he knew—that it was made of a wood that existednowhere on earth today. It needed but the proof of sight and touchto realize that its material had grown in some world apart. Theexquisite workmanship of the head, of a pre-pyramidal age, and thehieroglyphics, symbols of a language that was forgotten when Romewas young—these, Kane sensed, were additions as modern to theantiquity of the staff itself as would be English words carved onthe stone monoliths of Stonehenge.
As for the cat-head—looking at it sometimes Kane had apeculiar feeling of alteration; a faint sensing that once thepommel of the staff was carved with a different design. Thedust-ancient Egyptian who had carved the head of Bast had merelyaltered the original figure, and what that figure had been, Kanehad never tried to guess. A close scrutiny of the staff alwaysaroused a disquieting and almost dizzy suggestion of abysses ofaeons, unprovocative to further speculation.
* * *
The day wore on. The sun beat down mercilessly, then screeneditself in the great trees as it slanted toward the horizon. Theslaves suffered fiercely for water and a continual whimpering rosefrom their ranks as they staggered blindly on. Some fell andhalf-crawled, and were half-dragged by their reeling yoke-mates.When all were buckling from exhaustion, the sun dipped, nightrushed on, and a halt was called. Camp was pitched, guards thrownout. The slaves were fed scantily and given enough water to keeplife in them—but only just enough. Their fetters were notloosened, but they were allowed to sprawl about as they might.Their fearful thirst and hunger having been somewhat eased, theybore the discomforts of their shackles with characteristicstoicism.
Kane was fed without his hands being untied, and he was givenall the water he wished. The patient eyes of the slaves watched himdrink, silently, and he was sorely ashamed to guzzle what otherssuffered for; he ceased before his thirst was fully quenched. Awide clearing had been selected, on all sides of which rosegigantic trees. After the Arabs had eaten and while the blackMoslems were still cooking their food, old Yussef came to Kane andbegan to talk about the staff again. Kane answered his questionswith admirable patience, considering the hatred he bore the wholerace to which the Hadji belonged, and during the conversation,Hassim came striding up and looked down in contempt. Hassim, Kaneruminated, was the very symbol of militant Islam—bold,reckless, materialistic, sparing nothing, fearing nothing, as sureof his own destiny and as contemptuous of the rights of others asthe most powerful Western king.
"Are you maundering about that stick again?" he gibed. "Hadji,you grow childish in your old age."
Yussef's beard quivered in anger. He shook the staff at hissheikh like a threat of evil.
"Your mockery little befits your rank, Hassim," he snapped. "Weare in the heart of a dark and demon-haunted land, to which longago were banished the devils from Arabia; if this staff, which anybut a fool can tell is no rod of any world we know, has existeddown to our day, who knows what other things, tangible orintangible, may have existed through the ages? This very trail wefollow—know you how old it is? Men followed it before theSeljuk came out of the East or the Roman came out of the West. Overthis very trail, legends say, the great Suleiman came when he drovethe demons westward out of Asia and prisoned them in strangeprisons. And will you say—"
A wild shout interrupted him. Out of the shadows of the jungle ablack came flying as if from the hounds of Doom. With armsflinging wildly, eyes rolling to display the whites, and mouth wideopen so that all his gleaming teeth were visible, he made an imageof stark terror not soon forgotten. The Moslem horde leaped up,snatching their weapons, and Hassim swore:
"That's Ali, whom I sent to scout for meat—perchance alion—"
But no lion followed the black man who fell at Hassim's feet, mouthinggibberish and pointing wildly back at the black jungle whence thenerve-strung watchers expected some brain-shattering horror toburst.
"He says he found a strange mausoleum back in the jungle," saidHassim with a scowl, "but he cannot tell what frightened him. Heonly knows a great horror overwhelmed him and sent him flying. Ali,you are a fool and a rogue."
He kicked the grovelling black viciously, but the other Arabsdrew about him in some uncertainty. The panic was spreading amongthe native warriors.
"They will bolt in spite of us," muttered a bearded Arab,uneasily watching the native allies who, milled together, jabberedexcitedly and flung fearsome glances over the shoulders. "Hassim,'twere better to march on a few miles. This is an evil place afterall, and though 'tis likely the fool, Ali, was frighted by his ownshadow—still—"
"Still," jeered the sheikh, "you will all feel better when wehave left it behind. Good enough; to still your fears I will movecamp—but first I will have a look at this thing. Lash up theslaves; we'll swing into the jungle and pass by this mausoleum;perhaps some great king lies there. No one will be afraid if we allgo in a body with guns."
So the weary slaves were whipped into wakefulness and stumbledalong beneath the whips again. The black warriors went silently andnervously, reluctantly obeying Hassim's implacable will buthuddling close to the Arabs. The moon had risen, huge, red andsullen, and the jungle was bathed in a sinister silver glow thatetched the brooding trees in black shadow. The trembling Alipointed out the way, somewhat reassured by his savage master'spresence.
And so they passed through the jungle until they came to astrange clearing among the giant trees—strange becausenothing grew there. The trees ringed it in a disquietingsymmetrical manner, and no lichen or moss grew on the earth, whichseemed to have been blasted and blighted in a strange fashion. Andin the midst of the glade stood the mausoleum.
A great brooding mass of stone it was, pregnant with ancientevil. Dead with the dead of a hundred centuries it seemed, yet Kanewas aware that the air pulsed about it, as with the slow, unhumanbreathing of some gigantic, invisible monster.
THE black Moslems drew back muttering, assailed by theevil atmosphere of the place; the slaves stood in a patient, silentgroup beneath the trees. The Arabs went forward to the frowningblack mass, and Yussef, taking Kane's cord from his guard, led theEnglishman with him like a surly mastiff, as if for protectionagainst the unknown.
"Some mighty sultan doubtless lies here," said Hassim, tappingthe stone with his scabbard.
"Whence come these stones?" muttered Yussef uneasily. "They areof dark and forbidding aspect. Why should a great sultan lie instate so far from any habitation of man? If there were ruins of anold city hereabouts it would be different—"
He bent to examine the heavy metal door with its huge lock,curiously sealed and fused. He shook his head forebodingly as hemade out the ancient Hebraic characters carved on the door.
"I can not read them," he quavered, "and belike it is well forme I can not. What ancient kings sealed up is not good for men todisturb. Hassim, let us hence. This place is pregnant with evil forthe sons of men."
But Hassim gave him no heed. "He who lies within is no son ofIslam," said he, "and why should we not despoil him of the gems andriches that undoubtedly were laid to rest with him? Let us breakopen this door."
Some of the Arabs shook their heads doubtfully but Hassim's wordwas law. Calling to him a huge black who bore a heavy hammer, heordered him to break open the door.
As the black swung up his sledge, Kane gave a sharp exclamation.Was he mad? The apparent antiquity of this brooding mass of stonewas proof that it had stood undisturbed for thousands of years. Yethe could have sworn that he heard the sounds of footfalls within!Back and forth they padded, as if something paced the narrowconfines of that grisly prison in a never-ending monotony ofmovement.
A cold hand touched the spine of Solomon Kane. Whether thesounds registered on his conscious ear or on some unsounded deep ofsoul or sub-feeling, he could not tell, but he knew that somewherewithin his consciousness there reechoed the tramp of monstrous feetfrom within that ghastly mausoleum.
"Stop!" he exclaimed. "Hassim, I may be mad, but I hear thetread of some fiend within that pile of stone."
Hassim raised his hand and checked the hovering hammer. Helistened intently, and the others strained their ears in a silencethat had suddenly become tense.
"I hear nothing," grunted a bearded giant.
"Nor I." came a quick chorus. "The Frank is mad!"
"Hear ye anything, Yussef?" asked Hassim sardonically.
The old Hadji shifted nervously. His face was uneasy.
"No. Hassim, no, yet—"
Kane decided he must be mad. Yet in his heart he knew he wasnever saner, and he knew somehow that this occult keenness of thedeeper senses that set him apart from the Arabs came from longassociation with the ju-ju stave that old Yussef now held in hisshaking hands.
Hassim laughed harshly and made a gesture to the black. Thehammer fell with a crash that re-echoed deafeningly and shiveredoff through the black jungle in a strangely altered cachinnation.Again—again—and again the hammer fell, driven with allthe power of rippling muscles and mighty body. And between theblows Kane still heard that lumbering tread, and he who had neverknown fear as men know it, felt the cold hand of terror clutchingat his heart.
This fear was apart from earthly or mortal fear, as the sound ofthe footfalls was apart from mortal tread. Kane's fright was like acold wind blowing on him from outer realms of unguessed Darkness,bearing him the evil and decay of an outlived epoch and anunutterably ancient period. Kane was not sure whether he heardthose footfalls or by some dim instinct sensed them. But he wassure of their reality. They were not the tramp of man or beast; butinside that black, hideously ancient mausoleum some nameless thingmoved with floor-shaking and elephantine tread.
The great black sweated and panted with the difficulty ofhis task. But at last, beneath the heavy blows the ancient lockshattered; the hinges snapped; the door burst inward. And Yussefscreamed.
From that black gaping entrance no tiger-fanged beast or demonof solid flesh and blood leaped forth. But a fearful stench flowedout in billowing, almost tangible waves and in onebrain-shattering, ravening rush, whereby the gaping door seemed togush blood, the Horror was upon them. It enveloped Hassim, and thefearless chieftain, hewing vainly at the almost intangible terror,screamed with sudden, unaccustomed fright as his lashing scimitarwhistled only through stuff as yielding and unharmable as air, andhe felt himself lapped by coils of death and destruction.
Yussef shrieked like a lost soul, dropped the ju-ju stave andjoined his fellows who streamed out into the jungle in mad flight,preceded by the howling black warriors. Only the black slaves flednot, but stood shackled to their doom, wailing their terror. As in anightmare of delirium Kane saw Hassim swaying like a reed in thewind, lapped about by a gigantic pulsing red Thing that had neithershape nor earthly substance. Then, as the crack of splinteringbones came to him, and the sheikh's body buckled like a strawbeneath a stamping hoof, the Englishman burst his bonds with onevolcanic effort and caught up the ju-ju stave.
Hassim was down, crushed and dead, sprawled like a broken toywith shattered limbs awry, and the red pulsing Thing was lurchingtoward Kane like a thick cloud of blood in the air, thatcontinually changed its shape and form, and yet somehow trodlumberingly as if on monstrous legs!
Kane felt the cold fingers of fear claw at his brain, but hebraced himself, and lifting the ancient staff, struck with all hispower into the centre of the Horror. And he felt an unnameable,immaterial substance meet and give way before the falling staff.Then he was almost strangled by the nauseous burst of unholy stenchthat flooded the air, and somewhere down the dim vistas of hissoul's consciousness re-echoed unbearably a hideous formlesscataclysm that he knew was the death-screaming of the monster. Forit was down and dying at his feet, its crimson paling in slowsurges like the rise and receding of red waves on some foul coast.And as it paled, the soundless screaming dwindled away into cosmicdistances as though it faded into some sphere apart and aloofbeyond human ken.
Kane, dazed and incredulous, looked down on a shapeless,colourless, all but invisible mass at his feet which he knew wasthe corpse of the Horror, dashed back into the black realms fromwhence it had come, by a single blow of the staff of Solomon. Aye,the same staff, Kane knew, that in the hands of a mighty King andmagician had ages ago driven the monster into that strange prison,to bide until ignorant hands loosed it again upon the world.
The old tales were true then, and King Solomon had in truthdriven the demons westward and sealed them in strange places. Whyhad he let them live? Was human magic too weak in those dim days tomore than subdue the devils? Kane shrugged his shoulders inwonderment. He knew nothing of magic, yet he had slain where thatother Solomon had but imprisoned.
And Solomon Kane shuddered, for he had looked on Life that wasnot Life as he knew it, and had dealt and witnessed Death that wasnot Death as he knew it. Again the realization swept overhim—as it had in the dust-haunted halls of Atlantean Negari,as it had in the abhorrent Hills of the Dead, as it had inAkaana—that human life was but one of a myriad forms ofexistence, that worlds existed within worlds, and that there wasmore than one plane of existence. The planet men call the earthspun on through the untold ages, Kane realized, and as it spun itspawned Life, and living things which wriggled about it as maggotsare spawned in rot and corruption. Man was the dominant maggot now;why should he in his pride suppose that he and his adjuncts werethe first maggots—or the last to rule a planet quick withunguessed life.
He shook his head, gazing in new wonder at the ancient gift ofN'Longa, seeing in it at last not merely a tool of black magic, buta sword of good and light against the powers of inhuman evilforever. And he was shaken with a strange reverence for it that wasalmost fear.
Then he bent to the Thing at his feet, shuddering to feel itsstrange mass slip through his fingers like wisps of heavy fog. Hethrust the staff beneath it and somehow lifted and levered the massback into the mausoleum and shut the door.
Then he stood gazing down at the strangely mutilated body ofHassim, noting how it was smeared with foul slime and how it hadalready begun to decompose. He shuddered again, and suddenly a lowtimid voice aroused him from his sombre cogitations. The captivesknelt beneath the trees and watched with great patient eyes. With astart he shook off his strange mood. He took from the moulderingcorpse his own pistols, dirk and rapier, making shift to wipe offthe clinging foulness that was already flecking the steel withrust. He also took up a quantity of powder and shot dropped by theArabs in their frantic flight. He knew they would return no more.They might die in their flight, or they might gain through theinterminable leagues of jungle to the coast; but they would notturn back to dare the terror of that grisly glade.
Kane came to the black slaves and after some difficultyreleased them.
"Take up these weapons which the warriors dropped in theirhaste," said he, "and get you home. This is an evil place. Get yeback to your villages and when the next Arabs come, die in theruins of your huts rather than be slaves."
Then they would have knelt and kissed his feet but he, in muchconfusion, forbade them roughly. Then as they made preparations togo, one said to him: "Master, what of thee? Wilt thou not returnwith us? Thou shalt be our king!"
But Kane shook his head.
"I go eastward," said he. And so the tribespeople bowed to himand turned back on the long trail to their own homeland. And Kaneshouldered the staff that had been the rod of the Pharaohs and ofMoses and of Solomon and of nameless Atlantean kings behind them,and turned his face eastward, halting only for a single backwardglance at the great mausoleum that other Solomon had built withstrange arts so long ago, and which now loomed dark and foreversilent against the stars.
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