DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Fantasy Fan, v. 1, issue 7, March 1934

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Fantasy Fan, v. 1, issue 7, March 1934

Page 102

102				FANTASY FAN    March, 1934

the grinding of ice-bergs on a frozen shore, and heaved up their shining axes as the maddened Akbitanan hurled himself upon them.  A frosty blade flashed before his eyes, blinding him with its brightness, and he gave back a terrible stroke that sheared through his foe's thigh.  With a groan the victim fell, and at the instant Amra was dashed into the snow, his left shoulder numb from the blow of the survivor, from which the warrior's mail had barely saved his life.  Amra saw the remaining giant looming above him like a colossus carved of ice, etched against the glowing sky.  The axe fell, to sink through the snow and deep into the frozen earth as Amra hurled himself asided and leaped to his feet.  The giant roared and wrenched the axe-head free, but even as he did so, Amra's sword sang down.  The giant's knees bent and he sank slowly into the snow which turned crimson with the blood that gushed from his half-severed neck.
	Amra wheeled, to see the girl standing a short distance away, staring in wide-eyed horror, all mockery gone from her face.  He cried out fiercely and the blood-drops flew from his sword as his hand shook in the intensity of his passion.
	"Call the rest of your brothers!" ha roared.  "Call the dogs!  I'll give their hearts to the wolves!"
	With a cry of fright she turned and fled.  She did not laugh now, nor mock him over her shoulder.   She ran as for her life, and though he strained every nerve and thew, until his temples were like to burst and the snow swam red to his gaze, she drew away from him, dwindling in the witch-fire of the skies, until she was a figure no bigger than a child, then a dancing white flame on the snow, then a dim blur in the distance.  But grinding his teeth until the blood started from his gums, he reeled on, and he saw the blur grow to a dancing white flame, and the flame to a figure big as a child; and then she was running less than a hundred paces ahead of him, and slowly the space narrowed, foot by foot.
	She was running with effort now, her golden locks blowing free; he heard the quick panting of her breath, and saw a flash of fear in the look she cast over her alabaster shoulder.  The grim endurance of the warrior had served him well.  The speed ebbed from her flashing white legs; she reeled in her gait.  In his untamed soul flamed up the fires of hell she had fanned so well.  With an inhuman roar he closed in on her, just as she wheeled with a haunting cry and flung out her arms to fend him off.
	His sword fell into the snow as he crushed her to him.  Her supple body bent backward as she fought with desperate frenzy in his iron arms.  Her golden hair blew about his face, blinding him with its sheen; the feel of her slender figure twisting in his mailed arms drove him to blinder madness.  His strong fingers sank deep into her smooth flesh, and that flesh was cold as ice.  It was as if he embraced not a woman of human flesh and blood, but a woman of flaming ice.  She writhed her golden head aside, striving to avoid the savage kisses that bruised her red lips.
	"You are as cold as the snows," he mumbled dazedly.  "I will warm you with the fire in my own blood --"
	With a desperate wrench she twisted from his arms, leaving her single gossamer

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102 FANTASY FAN March, 1934 the grinding of ice-bergs on a frozen shore, and heaved up their shining axes as the maddened Akbitanan hurled himself upon them. A frosty blade flashed before his eyes, blinding him with its brightness, and he gave back a terrible stroke that sheared through his foe's thigh. With a groan the victim fell, and at the instant Amra was dashed into the snow, his left shoulder numb from the blow of the survivor, from which the warrior's mail had barely saved his life. Amra saw the remaining giant looming above him like a colossus carved of ice, etched against the glowing sky. The axe fell, to sink through the snow and deep into the frozen earth as Amra hurled himself asided and leaped to his feet. The giant roared and wrenched the axe-head free, but even as he did so, Amra's sword sang down. The giant's knees bent and he sank slowly into the snow which turned crimson with the blood that gushed from his half-severed neck. Amra wheeled, to see the girl standing a short distance away, staring in wide-eyed horror, all mockery gone from her face. He cried out fiercely and the blood-drops flew from his sword as his hand shook in the intensity of his passion. "Call the rest of your brothers!" ha roared. "Call the dogs! I'll give their hearts to the wolves!" With a cry of fright she turned and fled. She did not laugh now, nor mock him over her shoulder. She ran as for her life, and though he strained every nerve and thew, until his temples were like to burst and the snow swam red to his gaze, she drew away from him, dwindling in the witch-fire of the skies, until she was a figure no bigger than a child, then a dancing white flame on the snow, then a dim blur in the distance. But grinding his teeth until the blood started from his gums, he reeled on, and he saw the blur grow to a dancing white flame, and the flame to a figure big as a child; and then she was running less than a hundred paces ahead of him, and slowly the space narrowed, foot by foot. She was running with effort now, her golden locks blowing free; he heard the quick panting of her breath, and saw a flash of fear in the look she cast over her alabaster shoulder. The grim endurance of the warrior had served him well. The speed ebbed from her flashing white legs; she reeled in her gait. In his untamed soul flamed up the fires of hell she had fanned so well. With an inhuman roar he closed in on her, just as she wheeled with a haunting cry and flung out her arms to fend him off. His sword fell into the snow as he crushed her to him. Her supple body bent backward as she fought with desperate frenzy in his iron arms. Her golden hair blew about his face, blinding him with its sheen; the feel of her slender figure twisting in his mailed arms drove him to blinder madness. His strong fingers sank deep into her smooth flesh, and that flesh was cold as ice. It was as if he embraced not a woman of human flesh and blood, but a woman of flaming ice. She writhed her golden head aside, striving to avoid the savage kisses that bruised her red lips. "You are as cold as the snows," he mumbled dazedly. "I will warm you with the fire in my own blood --" With a desperate wrench she twisted from his arms, leaving her single gossamer