The Black City

(Fragment)

The cold eyes of Kull, king of Valusia, clouded

with perplexity as they rested on the man who had so

abruptly entered the royal presence and who now

stood before the king, trembling with passion. Kull

sighed; he knew the barbarians who served him, for

was not he himself an Atlantean by birth? Brule, the

Spear-slayer, bursting rudely into the king's chamber,

had torn from his harness every emblem given him by

Valusia and now stood bare of any sign to show that

he was allied to the empire. And Kull knew the mean-

ing of this gesture.

"Kull!" barked the Pict, pale with fury. "I will

have justice!"

Again Kull sighed. There were times when peace

and quiet were things to be desired and in Kamula he

thought he had found them. Dreamy Kamulaeven as

he waited for the raging Pict to continue his tirade,

Kull's thoughts drifted away and back along the lazy,

dreamy days that had passed since his coming to this

mountain city, this metropolis of pleasure, whose mar-

ble and lapis-lazuli palaces were built, tier upon

gleaming tier, about the dome-shaped hill that formed

the city's center.

"My people have been allies of the empire for a

thousand years!" the Pict made a swift, passionate ges-

ture with his clenched fist. "Now, is it that one of my

warriors can be snatched from under my nose in the

very palace of the king?"

Kull straightened with a start.

"What madness is this? What warrior? Who seized

him?"

"That's for you to discover," growled the Pict.

"One moment he was there, lounging against a marble

columnthe nextzut! He was gone with only a foul

stench and a frightful scream for clue."

"Perhaps a jealous husband" mused Kull.

Brule broke in rudely; "Grogar never looked at

any womeneven of his own race. These Kamulians

hate we Picts. I have read it in their looks."

Kull smiled. "You dream, Brule; these people are

too indolent and pleasure-loving to hate anyone. They

love, they sing, they compose lyricsI suppose you

think Grogar was snatched away by the poet Taligaro,

or the singing woman Zareta, or prince Mandara?"

"I care not!" snarled Brule. "But I tell you this,

Kull, Grogar has spilt his blood like water for the em-

pire, and he is my best chief of mounted bowmen. I

will find him, alive or dead, if I have to tear Kamula

apart, stone by stone! By Valka, I will feed this city to

the flames and quench the flames in blood"

Kull had risen from his chair.

"Take me to the place you last saw Grogar," he

said, and Brule ceased his tirade and led the way sul-

lenly. They passed out of the chamber through an in-

ner door and proceeded down a winding corridor, side

by side, as different in appearance as two men could

well be, yet alike in the litheness of movement, the

keenness of eye, the intangible wildness that pro-

claimed the barbarian.

Kull was tall, broad-shouldered and deep-

chestedmassive yet lithe. His face was brown from

sun and wind, his square-cut black hair like a lion's

mane, his gray eyes cold as a sword gleaming through

fathoms of ice.

Brule was typical of his raceof medium height,

built with the savage economy of a panther, and of

skin much darker than the kings.

"We were in the Jeweled Room," grunted the Pict,

"Grogar, Manaro and I. Grogar was leaning against a

half-column set into the wall when he shifted his

weight full against the walland vanished before our

eyes! A panel swung inward and he was goneand we

had but a glimpse of black darkness within, and a

loathsome scene flowed momentarily outward. But

Manaro, standing beside Grogar, whipped out his

sword in that instant and thrust the good blade into

the opening, so the panel could not wholly close. We

thrust against it, but it did not yield and I hastened

after you, leaving Manaro holding his sword in the

crack."

"And why did you tear off your Valusian em-

blems?" asked Kull.

"I was angry," growled the Spear-slayer sullenly,

avoiding Kull's eye. The king nodded without reply. It

was the natural, unreasoning action of an infuriated

savage, to whom no natural enemy appears to be

slashed and rent.

They entered the Jeweled Room, the further wall

of which was set into the natural stone of the hill on

which Kamula was built.

"Manaro swore he heard a whisper as of music,"

grunted Brule. "And there he leans with his ear at the

crack. HoIa-Manaro!"

Kull frowned as he saw the tall Valusian did not

change his posture or give any heed to the hail. He

did in truth lean against the panel, one hand gripping

the sword which held the secret doorway apart, one

ear glued to the thin crack. Kull noted the almost ma-

terial darkness of that thin strip of blacknessit

seemed to him that beyond that unknown opening,

the darkness must lurk like a living, sentient thing.

He strode forward impatiently and clapped the

soldier heavily on the shoulder. And Manaro rocked

away from the wall and fell stiffly to lie at Kull's feet

With horror-glazed eyes staring blankly upward.

"Valka!" swore Brule. "He's been stabbed-I was

a fool to leave him here alone"

The king shook his lion-like head. There's no

blood on himlook at his face." Brule looked and

cursed. The dead Valusian's features were set. in a

mask of horrorand the effect was distinctly one of

listening.

Kull cautiously approached the crack in the wall

and then beckoned Brule. From somewhere beyond

that mysterious portal sounded a thin, wailing sound

as of a ghostly piping. It was so dim as to barely be

heard, but it held in its music all the hate and venom

of a thousand demons. Kull shrugged his giant shoul-

ders.