Robert Howard: Tigers Of The Sea

With his strange short, curved sword he sought to parry the Gael's headlong attack-but Cormac in his red fury drove his foe before him like a straw before the wind. Whatever else this high priest might be, he was mortal, for he winced and cursed in a weird tongue as Cormac's long lean blade broke through his guard again and again and brought blood from head, chest and arm. Back Cormac drove him, inexorably, until he wavered on the very brink of the open pit-and there, as the Gael's point girded into his breast, he reeled and fell backward with a wild cry…

For a long moment that cry rang up ever more faintly from untold depths-then ceased abruptly. And far below rose sounds as of a grisly feast. Cormac smiled fiercely. For the moment, not even the inhuman sounds from the gulf could shake him in his grim fury; he was the Avenger, and he had just sent a tormentor of one of his own kind to the maw of a devouring god of judgement…

He turned and strode back down the hall to join Wulfhere and his men. A few goat-things passed before him in the dim corridors, but fled bleating before his grim advance. Cormac paid them no heed, and presently rejoined Wulfhere and the dying priest.

"You have slain the Dark Druid," whispered Fabricus. "Aye, his blood stains your blade-I see it glowing even through your sheath, though others cannot, and so I know I am free at last to speak. Before the Romans, before the true Celtic Druids, before the Gaels and the Picts, even, was the Dark Druid-the Teacher of Man. So he styled himself, for he was the last of the Serpent-Men, the last of that race that preceded humanity in dominion over the world. His was the hand that gave to Eve the apple, and set Adam's foot upon the accursed path of awakening. King Kull of Atlantis slew the last of His brethren with the edge of the sword in desperate conflict, but He alone survived to ape the form of man and hand down the Satanic lore of olden times. I see many things now-things that life hid but which the opening doors of death reveal! Before Man were the Serpent-men, and before them were the Old Ones of the Star-shaped heads, who created mankind and, later, the abominable goat-spawn when they realized Man would not serve their purpose. This temple is the last Outpost of their accursed civilization to remain above ground-and beneath it ravages the last Shoggoth to remain near the surface of this world. The goat-spawn roam the hills only at night, fearful now of man, and the Old Ones and the Shoggoths hide deep beneath the earth till that day when God mayhap shall call them forth to be his scourge, at Armageddon…"

The old man coughed and gasped, and Cormac's skin prickled strangely. Too many of the things Fabricus said seemed to stir strange memories in his Gaelic racial soul.

"Rest easy, old man," he said. "This temple-this Outpost, as you call it, shall not remain standing."

"Aye," grunted Wulfhere, strangely moved. "Every stone in this place shall be cast into the pit that lies beneath!"

Cormac, too, felt an unaccustomed sadness-why he knew not, for often had he seen death before. "Christian or no, your's is a brave soul, old man. You shall be avenged…"

"Nay!" Fabricus held up a trembling, bloodless hand; his face seemed to shine with a mystic intensity. "I die, and vengeance means naught to my departing soul. I came to this evil place bearing the cross and speaking the cleansing words of our Lord, willing to die if only this world might be purged of that Dark One who has so foully slain so many and who plotted the Second Downfall of us all. And God has answered my prayers, for He has sent you here and you have slain the Serpent; now the Serpent's goat-minions can but flee to the wooded hills, and the Shoggoth return to the dark bowels of Hell whence it came." Fabricus gripped Cormac's right hand with his left, Wulfhere's with his right; then he said: "Gael-Norse-fellow humans you be, though of different races, different beliefs… Look now!" His countenance seemed to shine with a strange light as he feebly raised himself on one elbow. "It is as our Lord told me-all difference between us pale before the menace of the Dark Powers-aye, we be all brothers…"

Then the mystic, far-seeing eyes of Fabricus rolled upward and closed-in death. Cormac stood in grim silence, gripping his naked sword, then drew breath deeply and relaxed.

"What meant the man?" he grunted at last.

Wulfhere shook his shaggy mane. "I know not. He was mad, and his madness led him to his doom. Yet he had courage, for did he not go forth fearless, even as goes the berserker into battle, careless of death? He was a brave man-but this temple is an evil place that were better quitted…"

"Aye-and the sooner the better!"

Cormac sheathed his sword with a clang; again he breathed deeply.

"On to Wessex," he growled. "We'll clean our steel in good Saxon blood."