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Fantasite, v. 2, issue 3, whole no. 9, August-September 1942
Page 5
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THE FANTASITE.........................................................5 IN THE WINTER, snow comes to the earth, and ice imprisons the lakes and rivers; this all me know. BUt not all men know what comes with the snow and ice, and this is well, else could they not make merry in the time of cold, nor strive in carefree sports on the white-mantled hills and on the smooth, burnished surfaces of ponds. For there are beings and shadows that favor the cold places of earth and that creep down from the pole when it is turned away from the sun and out to the great black frigidity that stretches between the stars. And luckless indeed are the regions where the snow clings all the year round, for there the Eldge Gods are wont to pay visits in the night, and strange things lurk in the drifts and scream on the icy winds. Such a place is the time-forgotten village of Alternborg in the northern part of Norway, which is a land prolific in legens of ancient powers and populous in the ghosts and demons of ancient sorceries. Very few men have ever heard of Altenborg, for it is hidden within the wild and desolate interior of the country, well up beyond the Arctic Circle. It's hundred or so inhabitants seem simple peasant folk to the outward eye, but there is a quality of agelessness about them which suggests a communion with surviving powers from the earth's olden days. This would not seem strange to anyone who knew how incredibly old the village actually is, but men no longer know, though it is whispered that Altenborg, under another name, was a mighty center of wizardry in the dim years before Atlantis sank. Thus has the town come down to modern days as one of the very few places left on the earth where meen keep alive the worship of the primordial gods and pursue forbidden studies impinging on realms of nightmare. Among the many legends that hover and whisper about the crooked streets and cumbling eaces of Altenborg is that of the Ice-King, who has his abode on the side of the nearby mountain but who visits earth only once in every hundred years, to claim a sacrifice as a reminder of his power. What he looks like, none know, and few would care to know, for it is said in the Pnakotic Manuscripts that he is as fearsome and terrible as the vast night gale that shrieks down from the pole at the winter solstice. His companions are Hastur the Unspeakable who roams the star spaces and was worshipped when Astarte was but new-born, and Ithaqua the Wind-Walker, whom the Indians of North America name in drear the Wendigo. But he is prouder and more aloog even than these, and were it not that the inhabitants of Altenborg are learned in dreadful mysteries and accustomed to the influence of things from Outside, they could not long dwell in sanity near the centenary abode of the Ice-King. Now one day there came to Altenborg a black-uniformed young man from a foreign land who spoke with a harsh accent from between thin lips and whose face was stern and narrow beneath close-cropped brown hair. He explained that his name was Johan Fechner and that he was the civilian administrator for the village, whose duty it was to see that Altenborg cooperated with the new order that had come to Norway. To enforce his authority, if such regrettable measures became necessary, he brought with him five souldiers wearing steel helmets and carrying rifles and a machine gun. But they soon found they would have no excitement here, for the sleepy villagers made no resistance when their houses were searched, and Herr Fechner found no booty worth removing, save a few blankets and some food. It was plain that Altenborg would be a source neither of revenue nor of irritation, and that the apathetic peasants here did not care who ruled them. So Herr Fechner did not waste his time in persecuting the villagers, and they in turn sought not to offend him and kept their smiles to themselves when they thought of the feeble material weapons with which he hoped to cow them. Then after a time the young administrator remarked a curious natural phenomenon--a strange blue light that seemed to glow at night from a certain spot on the pine-covered mountainside. At first he ascribed it to the aurora borealis, which was particularly resplendent in the sky at this period; but then it occured to him that the blue glow might signify the site of some rebellious activity against the Reich on the part of the natives hereabouts. Since he had been chafing under the dullness of his life in this frozen outpost of barbarism, he
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THE FANTASITE.........................................................5 IN THE WINTER, snow comes to the earth, and ice imprisons the lakes and rivers; this all me know. BUt not all men know what comes with the snow and ice, and this is well, else could they not make merry in the time of cold, nor strive in carefree sports on the white-mantled hills and on the smooth, burnished surfaces of ponds. For there are beings and shadows that favor the cold places of earth and that creep down from the pole when it is turned away from the sun and out to the great black frigidity that stretches between the stars. And luckless indeed are the regions where the snow clings all the year round, for there the Eldge Gods are wont to pay visits in the night, and strange things lurk in the drifts and scream on the icy winds. Such a place is the time-forgotten village of Alternborg in the northern part of Norway, which is a land prolific in legens of ancient powers and populous in the ghosts and demons of ancient sorceries. Very few men have ever heard of Altenborg, for it is hidden within the wild and desolate interior of the country, well up beyond the Arctic Circle. It's hundred or so inhabitants seem simple peasant folk to the outward eye, but there is a quality of agelessness about them which suggests a communion with surviving powers from the earth's olden days. This would not seem strange to anyone who knew how incredibly old the village actually is, but men no longer know, though it is whispered that Altenborg, under another name, was a mighty center of wizardry in the dim years before Atlantis sank. Thus has the town come down to modern days as one of the very few places left on the earth where meen keep alive the worship of the primordial gods and pursue forbidden studies impinging on realms of nightmare. Among the many legends that hover and whisper about the crooked streets and cumbling eaces of Altenborg is that of the Ice-King, who has his abode on the side of the nearby mountain but who visits earth only once in every hundred years, to claim a sacrifice as a reminder of his power. What he looks like, none know, and few would care to know, for it is said in the Pnakotic Manuscripts that he is as fearsome and terrible as the vast night gale that shrieks down from the pole at the winter solstice. His companions are Hastur the Unspeakable who roams the star spaces and was worshipped when Astarte was but new-born, and Ithaqua the Wind-Walker, whom the Indians of North America name in drear the Wendigo. But he is prouder and more aloog even than these, and were it not that the inhabitants of Altenborg are learned in dreadful mysteries and accustomed to the influence of things from Outside, they could not long dwell in sanity near the centenary abode of the Ice-King. Now one day there came to Altenborg a black-uniformed young man from a foreign land who spoke with a harsh accent from between thin lips and whose face was stern and narrow beneath close-cropped brown hair. He explained that his name was Johan Fechner and that he was the civilian administrator for the village, whose duty it was to see that Altenborg cooperated with the new order that had come to Norway. To enforce his authority, if such regrettable measures became necessary, he brought with him five souldiers wearing steel helmets and carrying rifles and a machine gun. But they soon found they would have no excitement here, for the sleepy villagers made no resistance when their houses were searched, and Herr Fechner found no booty worth removing, save a few blankets and some food. It was plain that Altenborg would be a source neither of revenue nor of irritation, and that the apathetic peasants here did not care who ruled them. So Herr Fechner did not waste his time in persecuting the villagers, and they in turn sought not to offend him and kept their smiles to themselves when they thought of the feeble material weapons with which he hoped to cow them. Then after a time the young administrator remarked a curious natural phenomenon--a strange blue light that seemed to glow at night from a certain spot on the pine-covered mountainside. At first he ascribed it to the aurora borealis, which was particularly resplendent in the sky at this period; but then it occured to him that the blue glow might signify the site of some rebellious activity against the Reich on the part of the natives hereabouts. Since he had been chafing under the dullness of his life in this frozen outpost of barbarism, he
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