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Spaceways, v. 4, issue 4, whole no. 27, April 1942
Page 6
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6 SPACEWAYS [Centered] ALTUR, THE AVENGER veins was mingled, equally, the blood of negro and white man. To this mismating of races did men ascribe the detached mind and peculiar actions of the boy--nor did Altur disillusion them. So the years passed and the young man, with dark blood in his veins, fin-ished his schooling. Clumsily he used his hands to earn food and lodging, for a time. Yet always those dreamy abstractions that his nightly journeys to Otool revealed to him were before him; he lost all interest in his work; he was dis-charged from a score of jobs, and lived in direst poverty and want. Drearily he lived on, until one day he suddenly realized that he was fifty years old--a shrunken, coughing wreck of a man, shunned and avoided by even the lowest of human derelicts--but he cared not any longer. Came a night, while he strove to enger wholly into that unreasoning clay when the pages of the Hooly Skrood flashed before his eyes, and he prayed to the bodiless body of Tolak, who is--yet is not. Then did Tolak, his great cloak of unborn flame about his deathless form-less shape, open those unknowable mystic gates of being to permit Altur passage. Out of that tower room did Altur lower himself, by knotted strips of pan-turka hide from the floor, and thickly woven blankets from his couch. Undetect-ed then, Altur fled those grim prison towers; across ten leagues of crusted sands and crawling, spiny cactus-growths, to the sheer-walled canyons and arro-yas of Vendamool, where abide the bat-eyed men of hills in their lofty cliff-nests. Altur sought for a resting place in that cruel wilderness, and found a rocky ledge, high up on a canyon wall, where the dust lay undisturbed over the powdery bones of some dragon-winged monster of the uplands. There he laid himself down; and in that instant awoke once more on Erth, shivering beside the rain-soaked blackened ashes of his jungle fire. He was alone, for the other hobos shunned his company.... Altur battled the bat-eyed men of Vendanool with his bared fists until they, in exhaustion, begged him to desist and leave them in peace. But he would not; rather he sought friendship with them; thereafter, for aweek he rested in Oolool, the lofty cliff city of Loocon, their just ruler. There the gray-furred men, once they came to know the goodness of Altur's great heart, forged him a mighty, two-edged sword, heavier than two of their own blades; they made him a leathern tunic so skilfully layered with weightless, metal scales that the keenest spear or sword's point was turned aside; and they warned him of the priestly, evil Krollus that so oppressed the people of Vadun in the capital city of Vad, where ruled Stork, his uncle. Later he made his way into the sunken, all-but-lightless streets of Vad. High above him, where the sunlight and breezes of Otool played as they willed, the gentle-fingered aristocrats of Vad idled away their time. BUt down here, the very absence of light; the brooding oppressed multitudes of men; the bloody orgies of the priestly Krollus; and the dank sour smell of unclean, befouled earth combined to crush and sadden the spirits of Altur. He passed torch-lit booths where the waxen, thin-faced women and children of these underground warrens were offered for sale to the highest bidder; he saw Krollus, their vast-hooded crimson robes dabbled with the dark stains of dried blood, lead women and children away to be sacrificed to their foul dark gods on bloody jeweled alters. Nor did they lack for mony to buy their meek sacrific-es. From some hell-spawned source, controlled always by the lavishness of their sacrifices to their unholy gods, did they bring fresh meat, fresh and tender flesh it was, to sell to the shops of the upper city. Altur saw, with sorrow, that the words of the Holy Scrood were forgotten; instead men worshipped the obscene, shadowy, demi-gods of Kakool, Karsam, Voddi-
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6 SPACEWAYS [Centered] ALTUR, THE AVENGER veins was mingled, equally, the blood of negro and white man. To this mismating of races did men ascribe the detached mind and peculiar actions of the boy--nor did Altur disillusion them. So the years passed and the young man, with dark blood in his veins, fin-ished his schooling. Clumsily he used his hands to earn food and lodging, for a time. Yet always those dreamy abstractions that his nightly journeys to Otool revealed to him were before him; he lost all interest in his work; he was dis-charged from a score of jobs, and lived in direst poverty and want. Drearily he lived on, until one day he suddenly realized that he was fifty years old--a shrunken, coughing wreck of a man, shunned and avoided by even the lowest of human derelicts--but he cared not any longer. Came a night, while he strove to enger wholly into that unreasoning clay when the pages of the Hooly Skrood flashed before his eyes, and he prayed to the bodiless body of Tolak, who is--yet is not. Then did Tolak, his great cloak of unborn flame about his deathless form-less shape, open those unknowable mystic gates of being to permit Altur passage. Out of that tower room did Altur lower himself, by knotted strips of pan-turka hide from the floor, and thickly woven blankets from his couch. Undetect-ed then, Altur fled those grim prison towers; across ten leagues of crusted sands and crawling, spiny cactus-growths, to the sheer-walled canyons and arro-yas of Vendamool, where abide the bat-eyed men of hills in their lofty cliff-nests. Altur sought for a resting place in that cruel wilderness, and found a rocky ledge, high up on a canyon wall, where the dust lay undisturbed over the powdery bones of some dragon-winged monster of the uplands. There he laid himself down; and in that instant awoke once more on Erth, shivering beside the rain-soaked blackened ashes of his jungle fire. He was alone, for the other hobos shunned his company.... Altur battled the bat-eyed men of Vendanool with his bared fists until they, in exhaustion, begged him to desist and leave them in peace. But he would not; rather he sought friendship with them; thereafter, for aweek he rested in Oolool, the lofty cliff city of Loocon, their just ruler. There the gray-furred men, once they came to know the goodness of Altur's great heart, forged him a mighty, two-edged sword, heavier than two of their own blades; they made him a leathern tunic so skilfully layered with weightless, metal scales that the keenest spear or sword's point was turned aside; and they warned him of the priestly, evil Krollus that so oppressed the people of Vadun in the capital city of Vad, where ruled Stork, his uncle. Later he made his way into the sunken, all-but-lightless streets of Vad. High above him, where the sunlight and breezes of Otool played as they willed, the gentle-fingered aristocrats of Vad idled away their time. BUt down here, the very absence of light; the brooding oppressed multitudes of men; the bloody orgies of the priestly Krollus; and the dank sour smell of unclean, befouled earth combined to crush and sadden the spirits of Altur. He passed torch-lit booths where the waxen, thin-faced women and children of these underground warrens were offered for sale to the highest bidder; he saw Krollus, their vast-hooded crimson robes dabbled with the dark stains of dried blood, lead women and children away to be sacrificed to their foul dark gods on bloody jeweled alters. Nor did they lack for mony to buy their meek sacrific-es. From some hell-spawned source, controlled always by the lavishness of their sacrifices to their unholy gods, did they bring fresh meat, fresh and tender flesh it was, to sell to the shops of the upper city. Altur saw, with sorrow, that the words of the Holy Scrood were forgotten; instead men worshipped the obscene, shadowy, demi-gods of Kakool, Karsam, Voddi-
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