phenomenon or a mere illusion?
The batrachians did not wait to learn the truth. They halted in their tracks. Even their leader, for all the bravado he had shown a moment earlier, drew back. Before the multiple ranks of Crimson Wizards they scattered to the walls of the room. They seemed to lose definition, to melt like gelatinous sculptures left to stand in a withering sun, then to slither snakelike along the base of the walls.An opening existed between the wooden walls and the concrete floor of the old building. Before the Crimson Wizard’s eyes the creatures disappeared into the blackness of the opening.
They left behind the noxious stench of their kind.
In the last fading illumination of dying flares the Wizard made a lightning-fast examination of the room. Grotesque candelabra rose to either side of the thronewhere the goddess-like figure still remained in majestic silence. The Wizard reached into his waistband and drew out a small metallic device that had been created for him by his assistant, Nzambi. He held it to each candle, andthe wick of each taper in turn burst into flame.
He stood before the throne where the lovely woman awaited. The throne stood upon a dais approachable by a series of lowsteps. The Wizard advanced toward the woman, climbing step by step. As he did so she kept her eyes fixed on him. Her beauty was marvelous to behold, but it was her eyes that most arrested the observer. They were filled both with an intelligence seldom encountered and with the lingering terror of one who has recently undergone an experience that would reduce a lesser person to gibbering madness.
Two steps from the top of the staircase the Wizard halted. Here he stood eye-to-eye with the woman.
“They’re gone,” he intoned. “You are safe now. Come with me.”
The woman shook her head, a forbidding expression on her face.
“What’s wrong?” the Wizard asked. “Don’t you see—those creatures are gone. There is nothing further to fear.”
Still the woman neither spoke nor moved. Was she in the graspof a hypnotic spell? Or was she, perhaps, still paralyzed with fear?
“Can you speak?” the Wizard demanded.
The woman nodded. With one graceful, jewel-encrusted hand she grasped the weirdly formed scepter. Her other hand, each finger decorated with a magnificent ring, rested upon one of the ornate arms of the throne.
“Come closer.” She did not quite whisper, but rather spoke in a voice so lowthat it barely carried to the Crimson Wizard’s ears, yet was so clear and well controlled that every syllable rang with crystal clarity.
“I dare not move,” the woman said. “This throne is connected to an explosive device planted beneath the floor. They used that means to keep me from struggling during their horrid ceremonies. They intended to take me with them when they were finished. I’m surethey would have set the device to explode once they were gone. They don’t care about this building, they don’t care about the world of humankind at all. The only reason they didn’t set it off is that you surprised them and frightened them away. But if I try to leave the building will be destroyed and you and I will both be killed.”
The Wizard nodded his understanding. “Very well,” he instructedthe woman. “Don’t move.”
She breathed a single syllable of assent.
The Wizard climbed the remaining steps to the dais, circlingthe throne in search of a tell-tale connection that ran to the explosives beneath the aged structure. With an exclamation he dropped to his knees, tracing with sensitive fingertips a slim, sinuous wire that ran from the base of the throne to a tiny opening in the floorbehind the dais.
A new tool appeared in his hand and he worked carefully over the wire until the connection was safely removed. He rose to his feet and returned to his position confronting the woman. “I’ve taken care of that as best I could, but those creatures are devilishly clever. By disconnecting the primary fuse
The batrachians did not wait to learn the truth. They halted in their tracks. Even their leader, for all the bravado he had shown a moment earlier, drew back. Before the multiple ranks of Crimson Wizards they scattered to the walls of the room. They seemed to lose definition, to melt like gelatinous sculptures left to stand in a withering sun, then to slither snakelike along the base of the walls.An opening existed between the wooden walls and the concrete floor of the old building. Before the Crimson Wizard’s eyes the creatures disappeared into the blackness of the opening.
They left behind the noxious stench of their kind.
In the last fading illumination of dying flares the Wizard made a lightning-fast examination of the room. Grotesque candelabra rose to either side of the thronewhere the goddess-like figure still remained in majestic silence. The Wizard reached into his waistband and drew out a small metallic device that had been created for him by his assistant, Nzambi. He held it to each candle, andthe wick of each taper in turn burst into flame.
He stood before the throne where the lovely woman awaited. The throne stood upon a dais approachable by a series of lowsteps. The Wizard advanced toward the woman, climbing step by step. As he did so she kept her eyes fixed on him. Her beauty was marvelous to behold, but it was her eyes that most arrested the observer. They were filled both with an intelligence seldom encountered and with the lingering terror of one who has recently undergone an experience that would reduce a lesser person to gibbering madness.
Two steps from the top of the staircase the Wizard halted. Here he stood eye-to-eye with the woman.
“They’re gone,” he intoned. “You are safe now. Come with me.”
The woman shook her head, a forbidding expression on her face.
“What’s wrong?” the Wizard asked. “Don’t you see—those creatures are gone. There is nothing further to fear.”
Still the woman neither spoke nor moved. Was she in the graspof a hypnotic spell? Or was she, perhaps, still paralyzed with fear?
“Can you speak?” the Wizard demanded.
The woman nodded. With one graceful, jewel-encrusted hand she grasped the weirdly formed scepter. Her other hand, each finger decorated with a magnificent ring, rested upon one of the ornate arms of the throne.
“Come closer.” She did not quite whisper, but rather spoke in a voice so lowthat it barely carried to the Crimson Wizard’s ears, yet was so clear and well controlled that every syllable rang with crystal clarity.
“I dare not move,” the woman said. “This throne is connected to an explosive device planted beneath the floor. They used that means to keep me from struggling during their horrid ceremonies. They intended to take me with them when they were finished. I’m surethey would have set the device to explode once they were gone. They don’t care about this building, they don’t care about the world of humankind at all. The only reason they didn’t set it off is that you surprised them and frightened them away. But if I try to leave the building will be destroyed and you and I will both be killed.”
The Wizard nodded his understanding. “Very well,” he instructedthe woman. “Don’t move.”
She breathed a single syllable of assent.
The Wizard climbed the remaining steps to the dais, circlingthe throne in search of a tell-tale connection that ran to the explosives beneath the aged structure. With an exclamation he dropped to his knees, tracing with sensitive fingertips a slim, sinuous wire that ran from the base of the throne to a tiny opening in the floorbehind the dais.
A new tool appeared in his hand and he worked carefully over the wire until the connection was safely removed. He rose to his feet and returned to his position confronting the woman. “I’ve taken care of that as best I could, but those creatures are devilishly clever. By disconnecting the primary fuse
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