Desert of Death's Domain Read online

  "It's unexplored for sure," Larry confirmed quietly. "In any case, I'm positive the policemen have brought the sick man to this place, handed him over and then taken off for home again."

  "That means," said Ron, "we should get busy and have a good look at that place."

  Larry agreed this should be their next task. Ron again climbed back up the slight incline of the dune to look around once more. But the light coming from the stars was too weak to let him see anything of the building complex which should be in the vicinity, according to Larry's information."

  Larry had climbed up to join him on the crest of the dune. "Judging by the photos these buildings seem to be quite flat," he said softly. "We might not get to see them until we're right on top of them, from the crest of the nearest dune."

  But in the meantime Ron had discovered something else. The rows of dunes did not extend indefinitely toward the west. As far as he could make out in the uncertain starlight, there were no more than two sand dunes ahead of them. Beyond, as far as the eye could see stretched a flat expanse of land. If any buildings really existed here in the desert, this was the logical place for them to be.

  They started marching again. It was difficult to make their way over the loose sand. After every step they had to drag their feet out of the powdery sand dust. Despite the cool air of the approaching morning daybreak, the exertion made them perspire heavily.

  Half an hour later they had arrived. They were lying behind the protecting wall of the last dune and peered over its crest. Below was a grey wall which ran north to south, beyond which a number of large and small buildings were recognizable. Some were in the shape of cubes, others rectangular, still others had the form of pyramids or cones.

  Altogether it seemed to be a quite considerable conglomeration of buildings and Ron would have been happy to know the reason that here of all places, in the middle of the desert, far from the bustle and amenities that life on Lepso offered, someone had chosen to build this little city. For a fleeting moment he was astonished by the alien construction of the houses. But then he remembered that this was nothing to be amazed about on Lepso. Lepso was, after all, a melting pot of all galactic races. Everybody would build in the style they were used to on their own home planet.

  On the other hand, Ron had not known there were entire cities on Lepso which had been constructed in a uniform alien style. He carefully looked over the entire settlement. If it was inhabited by any people, they must still be asleep or inside their houses. There was not a living creature to be seen outside. If Ron had discovered this place under different circumstances, he would have been convinced it was devoid of any life.

  Nevertheless, this was where the sick man had been deposited by the police. They certainly would not have brought him to a dead city. There must be some life down there.

  Ron fixed his gaze on the tallest building, a pyramid, which rose in the center of the large building complex. Suddenly he was overcome by a sensation of danger which emanated from the city.

  It was not evident why the grey wall had been erected at this spot. One needed simply walk around it and enter the city.

  The sky began to show some color, the stars grew pale and the faint glimmer of a new day rose from the north. The shadows Ron and Larry had seen before them changed to silhouettes.

  Ron suddenly remembered that he must have slept one whole day through while he was a prisoner of the Springers. Otherwise he could not account for the passage of time and the current date.

  Cautiously they approached the first cube-shaped building that reared up before them out of the sand. It had no windows. The walls seemed to be made of stone, and they could not detect any trace of a door leading to the building's interior.

  They walked all the way around the house. On the side which pointed in the direction of the pyramid in the city's center, they found a groove surrounding a 1:50 meter square set into the stone wall. There was no visible mechanism with which one could have opened the door— provided it actually was a door. Larry didn't expect too much from his effort as he pushed with his shoulder.

  He almost lost his foothold when the stone gave way without any resistance and the big rectangle turned easily and noiselessly toward the inside into a dark, humid, hot, stinking room.

  In his hand Ron held the weapon he had taken away from one of the two unconscious Springers back in the basement of the office building in Zanithon. Larry had jumped to the side. From inside the darkness came a hissing, wheezing noise. Ron waited. He sensed something was moving inside the dark room. Seconds passed, then he saw he had not been mistaken.

  Something came crawling to the outside.

  Ron first noticed an object resembling a thin white stick. But higher up this stick was a joint and then another length of white stick which was wrapped in some kind of a rag.

  A man's leg!

  Ron forced himself to remain calm. He waited until the miserable creature had labored sufficiently to reach as far as the weak light of the burgeoning day. It was painful to look at the creature. A wave of such pity as he had never before experienced in his life swept over Ron and utter disgust for those who would let this wreck of a man rot here in the desert.

  The man he had seen in the snack bar in Zanithon and then had had to hand over to the police had been a line, healthy specimen compared to what was lying on the ground before them here. The poor creature was hardly able any longer to lift its head off the ground. It made several attempts but each time fell back onto the sand.

  Ron bent down to the man and helped him. The dead man's skull stared at him from dulled eyes. His lips began to move and, speaking English with a faint, croaking voice, formed the words: "Forever and ever... I'll serve... you... my lords!"

  "Don't lose heart, my friend," he encouraged the miserable figure lying on the ground. "We'll get you out of here! Who are you? How did you get here?"

  Like a ragdoll the man's head lolled forward. But Ron held on tight to him and forced him to look into his eyes.

  "Forever... and ever..." whispered the creature. That was all he could manage to say as his strength failed him.

  Ron let him gently slide back to the ground. Then he stood up. "It's useless to try any further with him," he declared in resignation. "Maybe we can find someone else who is a bit stronger and healthier."

  Without a word they went on their way. Ron was pondering over the words the creature had uttered with such effort. What sense did those words make? Words the unfortunate man deemed so important that he would still utter them with the last weak breath left in his body?Who was it he wanted to serve? Who were these lords? It almost had sounded like some kind of a religious vow.

  But it did not make any sense.

  They reached the second building, another cube, and opened it the same simple way as the first.

  This time there was another surprise in store for them. As the door opened inward a box-like piece of material fell over and came to rest directly before their feet. Ron regarded it, greatly puzzled. It was cube-shaped, just like the building it was in until this moment, and it felt as light as if it were only an empty shell. Ron turned it over and discovered a broken window pane on one of the other sides of the cube.

  He realized that he had found a trace of the vanished creature of the planet Machraamp whose fellow citizen had requested Ron to keep an eye out for him.

  What a sad clue Ron had found, for fate held only one possibility for any creature from Machraamp who would leave his protective suit on Lepso: Death!

  Ron's thoughts were still busy wondering about his horrible discovery when suddenly the mighty boom of a gong resounded with a deep hum, making the air tremble and throbbing painfully in Ron's ears.

  Ron turned around swiftly and questioned Larry with a glance. But his pal shrugged his shoulders and declared, "I haven't any idea either what it is. It seems to come from the ground."

  By accident Ron's glance wandered over in the direction of the big pyramid whose pointed top could be seen above th
e flat roofs and the variously-shaped tops of the other buildings. Larry heard his friend utter a shout of surprise and whirled around.

  On the top of the pyramid a figure was visible, very tiny in the distance but all aglitter even in the still-feeble light of the early morning with the innumerable jewels with which it had adorned itself. The figure was moving. It looked as if it was bowing and bending over in various directions. Ron suddenly felt certain of his earlier suspicion: this mysterious city, the death's-head people in the stone huts, the figure high up on the pyramid—all were part of some religious cult. The man standing up on the pyramid seemed to be a priest. And maybe he was one of those of whom the half-dead Terran had spoken when he had promised he would forever serve him.

  This thought infuriated Ron.

  "Let's go, over there," Ron yelled to Larry. "We've got to catch that fellow."

  They hurried around the next cube and ran through a narrow lane between the low buildings toward the pyramid. The sound of the gong did not seem to have affected in the least the lack of activity in the city. All remained as quiet and empty as before.

  With one exception. As they came closer to the pyramid they could hear the voice of the glittering man at the top. He was singing in a monotonous, droning, plaintive tone. He was talking to one of his imaginary gods in whose honor he let Terrans, creatures from Machraamp and other unfortunate members of different races perish.

  At least this is what Ron assumed and he grew more and more furious.

  On each side of the pyramid there was a row of wide steps leading up to the top. Larry called out to Ron but he did not hear what he said. He could only see the figure wrapped in its glittering robes that had interrupted now, in amazement, its monotonous singsong.

  "Get down here!" Ron screamed at him. "Get down and justify what you have done to these pitiful creatures you keep imprisoned!"

  Without giving the priest a chance to obey or disobey his challenge, Ron stormed ahead. Just a few more steps till he would reach the top of the pyramid, maybe 10 or 12. He had almost made it to the top—and then...

  Then—!

  For a second Ron saw the face of the creature, the priest, close before him, a grimace distorted with anger anti strain. Ron felt he had only to stretch out his arms and seize the man.

  But at this moment a second sound boomed forth from the gong. And all of a sudden Ron was transported to an entirely different place.

  • • •

  All around him there was yelling, screaming, howling, whimpering and whistling in all possible keys. Something kept spinning him around at furious speed. He felt utterly miserable.

  His brain refused to function; he could not think.

  He let himself be whirled around without offering any resistance. He barely managed to bear the wild pain caused by the wild noise and confusion. Then he was seized by a mild tinge of curiosity. He tried to ascertain if he could feel anything else besides the pain, such as the roaring of the wind while he was being hurled around or The choking sensation in his throat as he felt more and more nauseated.

  But there was no air present. Nor was his throat! Ron attempted to move his arms but there was nothing to move: he had turned into a disembodied entity whirling inside a space without substance.

  All of a sudden shreds of alien thoughts came rushing inside his brain.

  'You scorned Baalol... you'll pay for this with the most horrible of all deaths!... You scorned Baalol...'

  Ron had no idea who or what Baalol might be. He was not interested to End out either. But if what he was experiencing now was the most horrible of all deaths, he hoped fervently death would come quickly. If only this shrieking racket would cease!

  There was no indication, however, that Ron's wish would come true. On the contrary: the howling grew in intensity; suddenly other thoughts were mingling with the original ones inside his brain.'Don't kill... you will not kill him... you fools... found your match... far more powerful... let go...'

  Ron listened to the voice. Surely these were nothing but thoughts and thoughts had no voice. Nevertheless Ron believed he recognized that voice. He felt he knew who was speaking there—or thinking.

  Someone was fighting for his... for his life! And what was he doing about it? He let himself be whirled around in the void without offering any resistance! Wanting nothing but for this torture to end, even if it meant losing his life! He began to steel himself; he was afraid now to die. He started resisting the fate these strange powers, these mighty foes, had pronounced for him. He struggled to aid the unknown friend who was battling to save him.

  The spinning about decreased. The noise and clamor grew less. Once again Ron received the stranger's thoughts:'Now you know... you are powerless... I am the victor... cursed be Baalol...!'

  Suddenly all was silent. For an instant Ron had the bewildering sensation of falling, of hurling downward. But this time it was an actual physical sensation for he slammed hard and painfully into something, then rolled on the ground, fell once more until he finally arrested his fall by gripping a stone ledge.

  He opened his eyes. Bright sunlight blinded him. He saw next to his face an even, narrow expanse of stone. His gaze wandered across it until it reached the edge of the rocky ledge and below he saw there was still another, similar stony expanse.

  The stairway! He was lying on the stairs leading up to the top of the pyramid.

  He rose to his knees and looked around. Something shiny and glittering caught his eye. It was the garment of the priest. He was stretched out at a slant on the stairs, a few steps higher than Ron. His head was leaning at a crazy angle and his eyes were wide open with a glassy stare.

  He was dead. There was no doubt about it. Ron's gaze wandered on and fell upon another priest who like the first had slid down a few steps and was now lying motionless. Some steps farther down there was a third dead priest and finally a fourth one who had fallen down the entire stairway. His body lay at a crazy distorted angle, limbs broken, sprawled on the sand.

  Ron could not comprehend what had taken place.

  Where was Larry? Down in the shadow of one of the small cubicle buildings he saw something move. Hastily he tried to grab his weapon—but found he was no longer carrying it on him. He must have lost it.

  The moving figure stepped from the shadow into the sunlight. It was Larry Randall, his slender medium-sized frame now easily recognizable. Ron painfully rose to his full height and descended the steps. His whole body ached and felt stiff. Halfway down the stairs he saw his thermobeamer resting on one of the steps. He picked it up and stuck it into his felt.

  Larry looked at him questioningly. "What was that ?" he wanted to know.

  "What was what? " he gave back the question.

  "This strange space... the spinning around... the voices?"

  Ron's eyes grew wide with wonder. "You too?"

  "Yes, me too," replied Larry. "I saw you storm up the steps like a maniac. I called after you to stay down here. A few more of the glittering guys appeared on the pyramid top. They didn't impress me that they would listen quietly while you were telling them off. I wanted to warn you but you wouldn't listen. And then... suddenly it started. I wasn't here any longer. I was floating somewhere and couldn't see anything. All around me was a terrible racket. Somebody said they wanted to kill me because I did not show proper respect and reverence toward... I forget the name now. Then somebody protested against killing me. The whole thing stopped abruptly and I fell down here on the sand."

  Larry was still looking at Ron as if he expected an explanation from him. But Ron said simply: "Let's go back to the gyro."

  He gazed up at the sun and realized that at least two hours must have gone by since he had first seen the priest up on the pyramid and had tried to run up to call him to account for his misdeeds. A look at his watch confirmed this assumption. The adventure of the void... the vortex... the voices... had consumed quite some time.

  His thoughts turned to Gerard Lobson. He had long since awakened from h
is drunken sleep, he was certain. Perhaps he would even try to run away, though it seemed unreasonable to expect he would do so in the middle of the desert. He would turn back alright, once he'd seen there was nothing but sand and wind—and a ghost town. But this might take quite some time until he would return. Precious time that Ron could not afford to waste.

  They left the town. It was empty and quiet, just as they had first found it—except for four motionless figures dressed in glittering garments, stretched out on the steps and at the foot of the pyramid.

  Ron wondered what all this really meant: this town in the middle of the desert or rather this conglomeration of buildings grouped around the pyramid, which evidently was a temple of some sort. The buildings probably served only to house the priests' servant slaves—those half-dead, miserable creatures that had been picked up in Zanithon and probably in other towns on Lepso.

  What kind of a disease was it that would suddenly overcome healthy people on the street, in a restaurant or in the middle of a conversation and change the poor victims into walking corpses? And what kind of a sect was it that would gather up these poor sick people to make them their servants—and all this with the support of the local police?

  Ron thought he could explain what had happened to him when he attempted to attack the priest. The priest had not defended himself with any physical weapon. He had fought against him with mental weapons. He and the others who had come to his assistance were probably some type of mutants. They possessed paranormal abilities, among others evidently one which permitted them to send an attacker into another dimension where he would then be whirled to death. It was strange, though, that no one in the galaxy seemed ever to have heard of these priests. Did they exist only on Lepso or were they active also elsewhere in the same secretive manner as here?

  Question after question—but Ron believed he detected a clue in there somewhere. The name Baalol reminded him of something. He did not know what it was. But he recalled that this name had turned up in a rather unpleasant connection with Terra's history sometime in the past months or years. There was some danger lurking behind this name.