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Title: Hammer of the GodsAuthor: John York Cabot* A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook *eBook No.: 0603641h.htmlEdition: 1Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: Latin-1(ISO-8859-1)--8 bitDate first posted: July 2006Date most recently updated: July 2006This eBook was produced by: Richard ScottProject Gutenberg of Australia eBooks are created from printed editionswhich are in the public domain in Australia, unless a copyright noticeis included. We do NOT keep any eBooks in compliance with a particularpaper edition.Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check thecopyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing thisfile.This eBook is made available at no cost and with almost no restrictionswhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the termsof the Project Gutenberg of Australia License which may be viewed online athttp://gutenberg.net.au/licence.html
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DEEP in the jungle the tribal drums were throbbing with savagepassion, their pulsating rhythm carrying clearly to the ears of thegigantic, superbly muscled barbarian who moved in great strides alongthe tangled underpath.
He was a handsome creature, this barbarian. Handsome as thepanther is handsome, or the man-killing tiger. Strong features,cruelly chiseled, were beneath his mat of fierce hair. His body washard and brown, clad in the skin of a jungle cat. And yet for all thestrength and power of him, he moved through the twisted underbrushwith the stealthy swiftness of an animal.
Across his back, carried as carelessly as though it might be but aload of twig kindling, was the still bleeding carcass of a freshlyslain boar. Food for the tribal feasting. The smell of the animal'sblood, hot and sweet in his nostrils, made the barbarian grin inanticipation.
"Ayi," he thought with savage satisfaction, "I, Tokar, return tothe tribal campfires with meat for the bellies of my people."
And he grinned again in wolfish glee at the thought he hadhalf-whispered in the murky twilight. For this very evening he,Tokar, The Mighty, would gain supremacy among his tribal fellows,would gain the honor of Tribal King. He, Tokar, would gain all thisby overthrowing Orlo, the present tribal king.
"Ayi," he told himself righteously, "do I not bring the most meatto the tribal kettles? Am I not the swiftest of foot and the quickestin battle? Am I not Tokar, The Mighty? It is only right that I wrestthe rule of the tribe from the weak hands of Orlo!"
The thought made Tokar feel good inside, and he took up a savagehumming chant as he strode along, unconsciously moving to the rhythmof the booming jungle drums. For Tokar was not only thinking of thehonor which he had long felt was due him, the honor of tribalkingship. He thought, too, of the spoils that would be his when hehad slain Orlo.
Orlo had rich compounds, and Orlo, as befitted a tribal king, hadstrong women to work for him. All these would go to Tokar. All theseand something else--The God Hammer.
At the thought of the God Hammer, the gigantic barbarian ran histongue across his lips, shivering involuntarily. For was not the GodHammer a magic thing? Was it not glittering and shining in its magicpower? Was it not the most prized trophy of the campfires?
"Ayi," Tokar wet his lips in anticipation at the thought, "the GodHammer, too, will be mine. Before the campfires are cold in the murkof morning, it will be mine!"
AQUARTER the length of a man's arm, cold and hard, with ahammer-like head on one end--that was the God Hammer. But, unlike wardubs, it was not of stone. It was of some magical substance, smoothand solid. Tokar had touched it once, unobserved by Orlo, and heshivered now, remembering the feel of it.
At the blunt end of the God Hammer there was a sort of magicalring, the very sight of which filled Tokar with a burning primitivecuriosity. Again and again he had turned over the mystery of thisring in his mind, and again and again had found no answer. His desireto possess the God Hammer was increased to a feverish intensitybecause of his insatiable curiosity over the magic ring. Thepossession of such magic would be worth even more than Orlo's richcompounds and strong women.
Thus Tokar reasoned, while he hummed his savage chant and strodelightly along the tangled trail to the rhythm of the jungledrums.
All day, as he had stalked the wild boar, the thought of the GodHammer had been in his barbaric mind. And now, as his great stridesbore him toward the village campfires at the end of day, the verydrums seemed to throb his desire. The God Hammer. The God Hammer.Tokar, Tribal King, Possessor of The God Hammer.
The huge barbarian quickened his step, eager to gain the village.Already he was anticipating with raw relish the challenge he wouldfling at Orlo. On and on he moved, while the twilight deepened intodusk, and the dusk into night.
At length, through the tangled foliage of jungle growth, Tokar sawthe first flickers of the flaming tribal fires. The path he trod grewwider and more clear, until at last he had view of the village ascant few hundred yards ahead.
By now the jungle drums were booming, thundering, in his ears, andthe shrill cries of the dancing women came clearly to him. He smiled,knowing that the ceremony for the Feast had started, that Orlo wasalready at the campfires.
Dogs came dashing up to him from the village, yapping and nippingat his heels, followed by children of the tribe who squealed joyouslyat the sight of the freshly slain boar he carried.
Tokar was grinning widely now, his sharp white teeth shining likewolfish fangs, and he strode forward toward the campfire circleswhere his fellows awaited him. The campfire circles, where the drumsthrobbed and the women danced, and Orlo sat unsuspecting--holding theGod Hammer.
Alone, Tokar made his way to the largest of the campfire circles.The Circle of the Braves, where Orlo presided over the wise men andtribal elders. Where Orlo ruled with the God Hammer in hand. Tokarwas conscious of the admiring eyes of his fellows as he strode intothe center of the circle.
With a grunt, Tokar swung the slain boar down from his thicklymuscled shoulder, dropping it to the earth. The cries of acclaim thatcame from his fellow tribesmen were music in his ears. Then the oldcrones, babbling happily, came from their kettles to group around thecarcass of the kill. They stood there, motionless, while thecampfires roared approval and Tokar, in the custom of the tribe, drewhis stone knife, hacking off the left hind leg of the slainbeast.
The drums were pounding wildly, now, while Tokar wrenched the legfree from the carcass, holding it aloft triumphantly, sinking hisfanged teeth into the raw meat. Fresh blood ran down the sides of hiscruel mouth.
BUT even as he gnawed the boar's leg, Tokar's glittering eyessought out Orlo. Sought out Orlo, who squatted in state on a mud daisless that twenty yards from him, holding the God Hammer as a kingmight hold a sceptre.
Orlo, too, was huge and heavily muscled. But he was of lightercomplexion than Tokar. His hair was light, while Tokar's was dark.And Tokar knew that he need have no fear of Orlo, for he, Tokar, wasfaster, stronger, than the man who held the God Staff.
Tokar dropped the boar's leg, holding his great arms high forsilence. The wild cadence of the drums ceased abruptly, and Tokarfaced Orlo directly, his wolf fangs exposed in a menacing grin.
Loudly then, Tokar trumpeted his challenge. Bellowed it so allcould hear.
He saw the startled incredulity that leaped to Orlo's eyes, knew,with intense satisfaction, that he had caught him unprepared. Tokargrinned again, moved cat-like toward Orlo's dais.
Orlo had risen from the dais, God Hammer still in hand, surprisestill stamped on his face. After the first shocked silence that fellover the campfires at Tokar's challenge, a throaty, savage murmur wasrising from the tribesmen. A guttural growl of delight. There wouldbe battle to give zest to the feasting.
Those around the fires remained motionless, according to tribalcustom, making no attempt to interfere on either side. Tokar wasgoing to fight for kingship. If he won, he would lead them. If not,Orlo would slay him. It was as simple as that. Tribal tradition gaveany brave the right to challenge for kingship.
The drums had started again, and the fires leaped higher as menthrew wood on them to better illumine the battle scene.
Tokar and Orlo were less than four feet apart, now, and werestarting the preliminary circling, looking for openings. Orlo stillheld the God Hammer, and Tokar, seeing this, drew his stone knifeagain. He could read the fear in Orlo's eyes, and knew that the othercould not depend on the magic of the God Hammer to aid him.
Then Tokar, bellowing wildly, lunged in on Orlo.
His great paws found Orlo's waist, and his thickly-muscledshoulder drove hard into his adversary's stomach. With his free hand,Orlo seized Tokar's mat of black hair, and with his other he tried tobring the God Hammer club-like down on his opponent's skull.
But Tokar had thrown him off balance, and now they were bothpitching to the earth. Tokar had one hand free, now, and was drivinghis stone knife again and again into Orlo's shoulder, feeling the hotblood run stickily against his own throat.
They pitched wildly back and forth on the ground, first Tokar,then Orlo, gaining top position. But as they struggled, Tokar drovehis stone blade home again and again wherever he found flesh. By now,some of Orlo's blood was in Tokar's mouth, and the taste filled himwith triumph and strength.
Again and again, Tokar managed to roll free from the blows of thehard God Hammer, and at last he was able to seize Orlo's arm, bendingit back until it snapped like a dry twig. The Hammer fell uselesslyto the ground, and Tokar heard Orlo's grunt of pain. Then he sprangto his feet, seizing the God Hammer as he did so.
Orlo was slower rising, but Tokar permitted him to do so while thewild hammering of the drums and the babbling roar of voices fromaround the circle filled him with a heady intoxication. In his handwas the cool, hard, club--like weight of the God Hammer. In his heartwas the savage certainty of victory, for Orlo was badly wounded.
TOKAR watched him pull himself to his feet, grinning at the sightof the blood that soaked his opponent's body. Orlo had been slashedby the stone knife at least twenty times, and his right arm hungbroken and useless by his side.
The tribesmen were screaming for the kill, screaming for Tokar,their new king. And Orlo, dazed, bloody, and beaten, swayed drunkenlybefore him. Tokar stepped in, raising the God Hammer high above hishead.
Orlo was too late in putting up his hands to ward off the blow ofthe God Hammer. Tokar brought the shining, hard Hammer down on Orlo'sskull with crushing force. Orlo started to slump to the earth, andTokar raised the club again and again, beating him across the headwith it until Orlo lay motionless and crushed on the bloodstainedmud.
And then the savage cadence of the drums became a wild, hystericalrhythm, while Tokar, licking his lips and baring his fanged teeth inwolf grins of triumph, held the God Hammer high above his head,waving it back and forth as a symbol of victory.
The flames leaped weirdly around the circle, throwing into suddenbrilliance victor and vanquished, and the drums pitched into anincredible frenzy. Around the campfires a harsh, barbaric chantbegan, taken up by the voices of all the tribesmen until it was awild, maddened song of blood and triumph.
Tokar made his way to the mud dais which had been Orlo's throneuntil now, head held high, chest thrust out, strutting like apeacock, the wild shouts of his fellows ringing in his ears. Thewomen started a tribal dance, and crones brought food and drink tohim.
But Tokar paid scant attention to all this, for his eyes werefixed lovingly on the God Hammer. It was his now. Ayi! His tocontrol, his to work magic with. And he could find out, now, itssecrets. Even to the magic ring.
In rapt fascination, Tokar inspected the God Hammer, his fingerstouching the ring as he turned it about in his hands. There werequeer symbols on the staff of the Hammer, evidently God Writing.Tokar's brow creased in perplexity. The God Writing was unlike thepicture symbols which the wise men of his tribe inscribed on cavewalls. Indeed, these were God Symbols.
He shook his head, looking at the symbols. They were strange,perfectly cut in the staff of the Hammer.
Tokar grinned, licking his lips foolishly in bewilderment.Perhaps, later, he would let the wise men of the tribe attempt todecipher these symbols. But now--there was the ring.
Inspecting the ring closely, Tokar saw that, by pulling it, hecould release a pin at the base of the Hammer's head. Grinning insavage excitement, Tokar pulled the ring.
Tokar, the Mighty One, was momentarily conscious of a blazing,blinding, searing, explosion. An explosion which insured the factthat Tokar would never be conscious of anything again. . . .
Never would the wise men of his tribe have the chance to decipherthe strange, evenly cut God-Symbols which Tokar had seen on the baseof the God Hammer. The symbols that read---
"Krupp Munitions Works, 1940, Hand Grenade"
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