The Creature from Beyond Infinity

CHAPTER XI The Man from Carthage

Scipio Agricola Africanus sat in a dungeon beneath the circus arena. Through a barred grating, he watched one gladiator disembowel another. The stroke, he thought, was clean and good for the men from Gaul were like wolves, dark, feral and quick. Scipio rather hoped he would be matched against them, rather than against lions or an elephant. There was something about the feel of steel matched against your own sword that put heart into a man.

An armored guard, coming along the corridor, pushed open the door of Scipio's cell. His hawk face peered in.

"Your turn soon," he said.

"Good," replied Scipio, with a pleasant oath. "I grow tired of battling fleas."

The soldier chuckled as he bent to adjust a greave.

"By my Lares, you have courage! Too bad your dream failed. I would not have objected to serving under such a man as you."

"I failed because none of my men had the courage of a rabbit," Scipio spat in disgust. "Faith, we could have taken Carthage almost without bloodshed."

"Had your army not fled, leaving you to face the Imperial Guard alone!" The soldier shook his head, grinning wryly. "Nothing but trouble since you came to Africa, Scipio. It was bad enough with those damned Romans yelling that Carthage must be destroyed, but at least they had not tried to destroy it. And what did you do?"

Scipio's eyes lighted. He was a huge, swarthy man, with the scarred face of a gargoyle. His nose had been broken so often that it sprawled shapelessly awry. Atop that monstrous face, the ringlets of short, curly black hair were incongruous.

"What did I do?" the adventurer asked. "Faith, I tried to serve your king, but he would not let me."

The guard choked and spluttered his outrage.

"Jupiter! You got drunk and dragged the king off to some low gambling hell. No wonder you had to flee to the mountains after that! Then you got some insane idea about creating an independent city of your own. That might have worked, if you had gone far enough into the Nubian country with your followers. But you decided to take Carthage. Carthage!"

The soldier made an infuriating roar of merriment.

"Come within the reach of my manacled hands," Scipio invited pleasantly, "and I'll tear off your head with considerable joy."

"Save that for the arena," said the soldier, moving back slightly. "Tonight the cries will announce that the Carthaginian Scipio is no more. Only, you are not a man of Carthage, come to think of it. Are you?"

"Why not?" The giant captive shrugged. "Rome is a melting pot. The blood of a dozen races mix in my veins. I am a citizen of Carthage now, at least for awhile. By the way, how do I die?"

"Elephant. They have a huge tusker whom they've driven musth with rage and hunger. You are to face him on equal terms, both of you unarmed." He glanced cautiously over his shoulder. "I am to accompany you to the arena gate. And if you happen to seize my sword and take it with you—Well, such things have happened."

Scipio nodded. "Too bad you're not carrying a lance. However a sword must do. I can spill the behemoth's blood before it tramples me. Thanks, soldier. If you let me escape now, I'll make you a prince of the nation I intend to establish."

"Listen to the lunatic," the guard said, with rapt admiration. "In chains, penniless, and offering to make me a prince! A prince of dreams, mayhap. Anyway, my vows are to Caesar, and not the Roman Imperator, either. So you must remain a captive."

The filthy straw rustled under Scipio as he shrugged. A death-cry drifted in from the arena, then the triumphant roar of some ferocious beast.

"Well," said the soldier, "your time has come."

"I wonder." There was a curious look in Scipio's deep-set eyes. "Lately I have had a queer feeling, as though the gods were watching me. Perhaps…"

He did not finish. More guards came, and the Carthaginian was unfettered and escorted along an underground corridor. Almost naked, his brawny body gleamed like mahogany in the sharp contrasts of light and shadow that filtered in through bars. Then the arena opened before them. Scipio was thrust forward. He saw at his side the friendly soldier, turned so that his sword-hilt was exposed.

With a grin and quick movement, Scipio clutched the weapon and whipped it out. Before the startled guards could move, he ran forward into the hot sands of the arena. The soles of his feet burned, then cooled as he halted in a patch of reddened sand.

The blazing African sun flooded down in blinding whiteness. Scipio had only a vague impression of the crowd that filled the circus. He could pick out no individuals. He felt as though one vast entity, surging, whispering, watching, surrounded him, and the head of the entity was the canopied box of the Lord of Carthage.

Scipio shifted his grip on the sword. He brushed the curly hair from his eyes with one hand, and stood warily on the balls of his feet. A musth elephant, eh? Well, no man could resist such an enemy, yet a man could die fighting.

"Alas for my dreams of empire," the Carthaginian murmured, with a crookedly sardonic smile. "Faith, I might have ruled the world, given time. And now I must water the sand with my blood."

He turned to the Imperial box, lifting his hand in salute. The emperor nodded, expecting to hear the usual, "We who are about to die—" of the gladiators.

Scipio disappointed his host. At the top of his voice he howled the words that would most enrage the onlookers.

"Carthage must be destroyed!"

A wave of fury, a gasp of astonishment and rage, rippled around the arena. The emperor make a quick, angry gesture. Grinning, Scipio turned to see a barred gate far across the sanded arena rise slowly.

For a few heartbeats there was silence throughout the circus. The blinding white heat was oppressive. Steam curled up from the blood-stains on the sands.

Then the musth elephant pounded to the gate. Huge, monstrous, a gray, walking vastness of animated dull savagery, he lurched through the gate and stood motionless, only his bloodshot little eyes alive with hatred. The trunk did not move, save for the tip, which swayed back and forth slightly.

A shadow darkened the arena as a cloud crossed the Sun, and then was gone.

Scipio hefted the sword he held. It was a short-bladed weapon, useless unless he could hurl it like a javelin. It was even too broad to pierce an elephant's eye, the most vulnerable spot of the monster. Briefly Scipio thought of slicing off the elephant's trunk as far up as he could reach. But that would still leave the tusks and mighty tree-trunk limbs that could squash a man into red pulp.

"Well," Scipio said with grim amusement, "at least they had to use their biggest elephant to kill me."

His gargoyle face twisted into a fearless grin. In the glaring tight, he resembled a teakwood statue, thewed like a colossus.

The elephant came forward slowly, its red eyes questing viciously until it saw Scipio. It paused, and the trunk lifted, waving snakelike in the air. It snorted angrily.

Again the shadow darkened the Sun, and this time it did not pass.

The Carthaginian had no time to look up. He bent slightly from the knees, holding the sword high like a javelin.

The elephant broke into a lumbering trot. Its speed increased. Like the Juggernaut, it bore down on him…

Scipio had a flashing glimpse of the monster—flapping ears, murderously upheld trunk, gleaming tusks. The thunder of its approach was growing louder, booming in his ears. It loomed above him—

From the skies sprang a thunderbolt! Flaming with pale brilliance, the crackling beam raved down. It caught the behemoth in mid-stride, bathed it in shining radiance. And the monster vanished!

It was gone without a trace. The deep craters of its rush ended in the sand a few yards from where the shocked Scipio crouched. From the spectators rose a roar, terrified, unbelieving.

A golden ball of enormous size plunged down into the arena. Lightly as a feather it grounded. A port in its hull sprang open.

Scipio saw a thin, pallid man, with the ascetic face of a Caesar. He was clad in odd garments and was beckoning urgently. Beyond him, Scipio glimpsed a fat Chinese whose round cheeks were quivering with excitement.

A spear flashed through the air, rang impotently against the golden hull. Almost paralyzed with amazement, Scipio ran forward, leaped into the ship. What this miracle might be, he did not know, but it seemed to provide a means of escape. Whether the pallid man was a god or a devil, at least he seemed friendly. More important, to remain in the arena meant death.

The port slammed shut behind Scipio. He bounded through the inner lock and stood wide-legged, staring around. The sword was still gripped in his hand. Past him the pallid man strode, and entered an inner chamber. A quiver of movement shook the ship as it lifted. The Oriental waddled into view and beamed at Scipio.

"Relax, friend," he said, lisping the unfamiliar tongue. "You speak Latin?"

"Naturally," Scipio stated. "All the world does. Are you a god? I doubt it, for only Bacchus and Silenus are obese, and their skins are not yellow."

The Oriental shook with laughter until he had to hold his heaving belly.

"I have heard of this Bacchus. A new god, but he is a good one. Sit down." He waved toward a couch. "My name is Li Yang. Do you wish food?"

Scipio shook his head and sat gingerly on the soft cushions.

"You called me friend?" he asked.

"I might better have called you comrade. Ardath saw the hidden possibilities in you, dragon-face. He read your mind while you slept. Ah, but you have dreams of empire, poor fool!"

Li Yang shook his head, and his yellow cheeks swung pendulously.

"Ill-luck dogs me," Scipio said lightly, grinning. "The gods hate me, so I wear no crown."

"Nor will you. You are not ruthless enough. You could carve out an empire for yourself, but you could not sit upon a throne. Under all thrones the snake coils. You are too honest to be a kink, Scipio."

The Carthaginian had been about to answer, but he paused. His dark eyes widened, and a flame sprang into them. Ponderously Li Yang turned.

Two figures stood on the threshold. One was Thordred, but Scipio had no eyes for even that gigantic form. He was staring with a burning fixity at the Atlantean priestess.

She looked lovely indeed. Her delicate figure was veiled by a girdled robe, from the hem of which her tiny toes peeped. Her golden hair hung loosely about her shoulders, and framed the elfin features that showed interested admiration.

"Jove's thunderbolt!" Scipio gasped. "Nay, but this is a goddess! This is Venus herself!"

Jansaiya preened herself. Under her lashes the sea-green eyes watched Scipio slumbrously. She basked in the frank, open gaze.

"This is Scipio?" the priestess asked.

She came forward and put a small, shapely hand on the Carthaginian's brawny arm. He looked down at her, his gargoyle face alight with wonder.

"You know me? But who are you?"

"Jansaiya." The girl glanced over her shoulder. "And this is Thordred."

Scipio saw the giant for the first time, apparently. His gaze met and locked with Thordred's smoldering glare. The two men stood silent. Scipio did not notice when Jansaiya took her hand from his arm.

Li Yang's red lips pursed as he glanced from one to the other.

It was a sight worth seeing. Thordred was huge, elephant-thewed, hairy as a beast, with jutting beard and aquiline, handsome, features.

Scipio, though slightly shorter, was almost as huge. His gargoyle face grew stone-hard. Thordred's cat's-eyes glittered. A silent enmity flamed in those glares that met without speech.

Ardath broke the deadlock by coming out of the laboratory.

"We are moving out toward our orbit," he said, smiling. "Soon it will be time to sleep again. Perhaps next time. ." He sighed. "Meanwhile, though Scipio is not the super-mentality I need, he is a genius in his way. Let me explain, warrior."

Scipio nodded from time to time as Ardath told his story. The Carthaginian's quick brain grasped the situation without difficulty.

"You will come with us?" Ardath asked at last.

"Why not?" Scipio replied, shrugging. "The world is not ready for such a man as I. In later ages, countries will recognize my worth and kneel at my feet." The granite face cracked into a grin, and he glanced at Jansaiya. "Besides, I shall be in good company. To how many men is it given to know a goddess?"

Thordred growled under his breath while Li Yang chuckled. The fat Oriental picked up his lute and strummed softly upon it. His voice raised mellowly.

"My love has come down from the Moon-lantern. In the heart of the lotus she dwells…"

"And now—" Ardath turned toward the laboratory. "I must adjust my controls. We shall automatically fall into our orbit. For two thousand years we shall sleep, and then revisit the Earth."

He vanished into the next room.

"Fragrant are her hands as petals," Li Yang sang. "In her hair the stars dance."

Jansaiya smiled. Scipio grinned a silent, confident reply to Thordred's dark scowl.

Humming power throbbed through the ship, swiftly grew louder. Li Yang clambered awkwardly on a couch, gesturing for Scipio to follow his example. Sleep poured from the monotonous sound. Idly Li Yang touched the strings of his lute.

"Give me sweet dreams, dear goddess," he murmured.

Jansaiya reclined on a couch. When Scipio turned his head to watch her, her green eyes met his.

Thordred moved stiffly forward. His hand was hidden from view behind him as he stood beside the laboratory door.

The languorous humming grew louder, more compelling. Jansaiya slept. Li Yang's pudgy hand fell from the lute. Scipio's eyelids drooped.

Footsteps sounded softly. Through the doorway came Ardath, smiling his gentle smile. Perhaps he was dreaming that when he awoke, he would find his quest at an end. Not noticing Thordred beside him, he turned and fumbled over the wall with rapidly slowing fingers.

The skin around Thordred's eyes wrinkled as he fought to remain awake. His hand came up with the slow motion of encroaching torpor, and he gripped a heavy metal bludgeon.

He crashed it down on Ardath's head.

Without a sound, the Kyrian crumpled and fell, lay utterly motionless. Blood seeped slowly through his dark hair.

Instantly Thordred lunged through the doorway and reeled toward an instrument panel. If he could throw a single switch, the sleep-inducing apparatus would be shut off—

Louder the humming grew. Its vibration shuddered through every atom of Thordred's body. In the next room was absolute silence.

Thordred fell without feeling that he was doing so. The shock awakened him. He dragged himself to his knees and crawled on, his hand clawing desperately.

One finger touched the switch and helplessly slipped down. The giant Earthman crouched, shaking his head slowly.

Then he collapsed and sprawled out, silent. The yellow eyes were filmed with cataleptic sleep.

The humming rose to a peak that gradually began to die away. Inside the golden ship, nothing stirred when it reached its orbit and robot controls made swift adjustments. Around the Earth the vessel hurtled.

The lute fell from Li Yang's couch. A string snapped…