The Totems of Abydos

by John Norman

  Perhaps it did not wish to risk being struck by the stick.

  Perhaps it had lost interest in Brenner.

  Perhaps it had been by coincidence that their paths had for a time been conjoined.

  There were trails, of course, in the forest. Brenner might have been on one.

  Brenner continued on his way. But now, no longer did he thrash through the brush, looking wildly back, plunging into shadows, witlessly toward anything that might be in the darkness. Now he moved with care. He frequently sought cover. He held the stick ready. He stopped often to listen, for little things, mostly, such as the resistances of dried leaves to the tread of soft paws, a breathing not his own. He stopped once, to look at his leg. It was no longer bleeding. He wrapped a kerchief about the wound, to protect it, but it would slip, and he ended, after a time, by thrusting it back in his pocket. He began to regret the loss of the knapsack, with its food. He became aware of how cold it was in the forest now, at night. He frequently looked behind himself. He saw no sign of the animal.

  He suddenly became haunted by a new fear. That he might be moving in a circle. The two legs of one of those of Brenner’s species are seldom of precisely the same length. Accordingly, if a pace is not measured, if it is not trained, so to speak, there will be a tendency to move ever so slightly, over a great distance, to one side or the other. Over miles this tendency can describe circles, which remain circles, of course, whether they be five or fifty miles in diameter.

  Brenner peered upward at stars. It must be hours before sunrise.

  Perhaps he should wait until morning.

  Suddenly, reflecting the light of a lantern fruit, he saw, like ignited, heated copper, like lamps suddenly illuminated, the eyes of the beast, not more than ten yards away, in his path. It was crouched down, like a small house, its belly no more than a foot from the leaves, its head even lower, the jaws almost at the ground. He saw its tail move behind it, a sudden, nervous movement.

  Brenner turned about and began moving away from it, looking back over his shoulder. He saw it move forward a few feet, quickly, then stop, then move forward again.

  Suddenly Brenner saw a white stone, and another beyond that.

  He had apparently passed between the stones, not realizing it. His heart leaped. He had come again to the trail of stones! There was no mistaking the stone, or the one beyond it, whitish in the woods, like a pale, softly glowing hemisphere. But the beast was behind him. How ironic it was, to have found once more, even by accident, the well-marked road to Company Station, to the fence, to the gate, to safety, only to furnish upon it a repast for a brute!

  Brenner put down his stick, and picked up the stone. It must weigh some five Commonworld pounds. It was a not inconsiderable missile. Surely it might bruise even a monster such as threatened him. But, after a time, as the beast had half circled him, but did not attack, he put it down. He picked up his stick and advanced to the next stone. The beast remained where it had been. It was not difficult to see the next stone, and Brenner proceeded to it. The beast was now well back. Brenner eagerly proceeded to the next stone, and then the next.

  If it is going to attack, thought Brenner, why does it not do so? But then, too, Brenner was in no hurry that it should come to some firm decision on the matter, particularly one which might be affirmative.

  After a time the beast was nowhere in sight.

  It is gone, thought Brenner. I hope it is gone.

  Brenner was not following the same stones he had followed earlier in the afternoon and evening. I mention that in case the reader might suspect that in his understandable disorientation in the forest, he might, in confusion, be following his own backtrail. This was a possibility, of course, of which Brenner, after a time, was well aware. But these stones, he satisfied himself, were not the ones he had originally followed. The terrain was different. He had passed numerous objects earlier, certain rock formations, particular fallen trees, and such, which he would have recognized, had he met them again. He was quite confident that he was on his way to Company Station, until, later, looking upward through a gap in the trees, he noted a constellation which, by all rights, should have been behind him, not before him. He was then less sure of his direction. Still he was quite sure that he was not following the same stones he had followed earlier in the afternoon and evening. That could not be the case. Things were not the same at all. His uneasy ruminations were interrupted when, ahead of him, through the trees, far off, he saw two small, flickering lights, torches. In moments he came through the trees to the edge of a broad clearing. The lights were indeed torches, one mounted on each side of the gate in the palisade, that encircling the Pon village.

  Confused, Brenner stumbled into the clearing.

  It was not at all the custom of the Pons to set torches by the gate.

  He slowly approached the gate, in consternation. He realized then that stones had been moved. The path which had once led to Company Station now described a loop, a large one, leading back to the village.

  He turned about, suddenly.

  Perhaps it was suspicion, or fear, or a sense of prudence, suddenly recollected, or perhaps a tiny, subliminal cue, not even consciously registered, but he had turned about, suddenly.

  He could see it, a looming shadow, dark against dark, amongst the trees.

  It was still with him!

  It had followed him!

  His astonishment, his perplexity, his frustration, his fury at finding himself once more before the village, dissipated, like dust in a gust of wind, before what was behind him.

  He began to run toward the gate.

  Rodriguez would be within. Rodriguez had the rifle. He had seen it blast a tree, felling it in an explosion of fire.

  “Help!” he called. “Help!”

  He looked behind himself, wildly.

  The beast had emerged from the trees. He could see it now, the blackness in the clearing, blocking the darknesses of trees behind it.

  He had little doubt it could bring him down before he could reach the gate. And it seemed not unlikely that it might decide to do so, before he could reach the security of the palisade. Surely, even in that simple, brute brain, in that small, dark, instinctual surrogate of rationality, it might sense that the palisade might constitute a barrier, that behind it what it had followed for so long might obtain immunity, or refuge. Understanding it must act, or risk the loss of what it had followed for so long, would it not now act, bounding forward with graceful, precipitate violence? Brenner ran madly toward the gate.

  “Help!” he cried. “Rodriguez! Rodriguez!”

  There were torches out, two of them, one set on either side of the gate. That was not usual with the Pons.

  “Help!” cried Brenner.

  There was something heaped, large, before the gate.

  “Help! Help, Rodriguez!” screamed Brenner, running across the clearing.

  To Brenner the gate, the palisade, represented safety and security. He did not consider that the frail, wretched palings of the tiny village would not be likely to constitute a very formidable obstacle to what was behind him.

  “Allan! Allan!” cried a voice, from within the palisade.

  The gate of the palisade opened a crack and Rodriguez emerged. Brenner was illuminated in the blaze of the electric torch in Rodriguez’ hand. He had it in his left hand. In his right was the rifle.

  “Aagh!” cried Brenner, falling against the thing heaped before the gate, some yards in front of it. It was stiff, and covered with fur. It lay oddly.

  Rodriguez was then behind him. “Ai!” cried Rodriguez, looking out. Then, in the clearing, the light of the electric torch shone on the hideous monster. It backed away two or three yards, and then sat back, on its haunches.

  “Aii,” repeated Rodriguez, himself backing away.

  “It is the same thing that did this, I am sure,” said Rodriguez.

  Brenner, shuddering, pushed back from the carcass lying heaped before the gate, and, unsteadily, stood. He then went aro
und the carcass, and backed a step or two toward the gate.

  “Rodriguez, come back!” said Brenner, hoarsely.

  But Rodriguez, on the other side of the carcass, was standing there, very quietly, looking up at the thing some yards away. He flashed the torch about it.

  It snarled.

  “Come back!” begged Brenner.

  “It is incredible!” marveled Rodriguez.

  “Come back,” said Brenner.

  “Magnificent!” said Rodriguez.

  Something of the beast, though it was several yards from the gate, on the other side of the carcass, could be made out in the torchlight The play of Rodriguez’ electric torch made its hide seem pale, almost whitish, in the darting pools of light. Brenner conjectured that the beast’s hide, if seen in good light, would be a variegated pattern of tans and browns. Such a coloration, against a mixed background, tends to obscure outlines. It also blends in well with lights and shadows. Too, on the flanks, it was marked with broad, vertical, darkish bars. These, too, Brenner thought, might make it difficult to detect, particularly against a forested background, particularly at dusk. If the animal were absolutely still, Brenner had the uneasy feeling that one might look directly at it, some yards away, and not see it.

  The ears of the beast were erected.

  It had a broad, feline head.

  “It is magnificent!” said Rodriguez.

  Brenner wondered at what might be the nature of the consciousness of such a thing.

  Brenner could hear the jabbering of Pons behind the palings.

  Rodriguez, keeping his eyes mainly on the beast, backed around the carcass and joined Brenner before the gate.

  “We set out the torches for you,” said Rodriguez.

  “You expected me back?” said Brenner.

  “The Pons did,” said Rodriguez. “They assured me you would be all right. I have been waiting up all night, by the gate.”

  “The stones leading to Company Station have been changed,” said Brenner. “They lead back here.”

  “Ah!” said Rodriguez.

  “We are prisoners,” said Brenner.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Rodriguez, looking out at the beast.

  “What do you mean?” asked Brenner.

  “Look!” said Rodriguez, flashing the light on the carcass that lay before the gate. It was very large, and tawny. Its head was twisted to one side, the jaws open, revealing fangs, and lay there, beside the body, as though it had been left there, by accident. The vertebrae of the neck had been bitten through. It was not a complete carcass, as portions of it had been eaten.

  “Surely you recognize it?” asked Rodriguez.

  He flashed the torch on the head of the carcass, where, on the forehead, above the eyes, was a white, starlike blaze.

  “It is the beast that killed Archimedes,” said Brenner, stupefied.

  “Back away,” said Rodriguez, quickly, whispering.

  The huge thing which had followed Brenner approached the carcass, and put its nose down to it, and moving its head, turned the carcass a little.

  “Yes!” said Rodriguez. “And it was brought to the gate this evening, after you had left, carried limp in the mouth of that beast, as easily as a bask cat might carry its kitten. He deposited it there. He left it there. He left it there!”

  The hair on the back of Brenner’s neck rose.

  “You understand what this means?” asked Rodriguez.

  “No!” said Brenner.

  “This is an incredible discovery,” said Rodriguez.

  “We are prisoners here,” said Brenner.

  “It does not matter,” said Rodriguez. “That is not important now.”

  “It is going to eat it now?” asked Brenner.

  But the gigantic feline had now lifted its head away from the carcass.

  “No, it is not fresh now,” said Rodriguez. “He will leave it for others. When they come we had best be within the gate.”

  Brenner recalled what might be the nature of some of the others. He shuddered.

  “Come inside now,” said Rodriguez.

  Brenner regarded the gigantic, catlike beast. It was sitting behind the carcass, back on its haunches.

  Come along,” said Rodriguez.

  “I encountered it in the forest,” said Brenner.

  “I do not think that that was an accident,” said Rodriguez.

  Brenner looked at him, puzzled.

  “We are going to the temple,” said Rodriguez. “I have had enough of the secrecy of these Pons.”

  “I do not understand,” said Brenner.

  “I will show you what I mean,” said Rodriguez, elatedly. “I shall show you what must be the case!”

  Rodriguez took down the torches from beside the gate. He thrust them into the hands of Pons.

  “Let us get the gate closed!” he said.

  Brenner looked once more at the gigantic, catlike beast, sitting there. Now that the torches had been moved, and Rodriguez’ light was no longer playing upon it, he could see only its outline against the sky, the erected ears, the broad feline head.

  “Come inside!” said Rodriguez.

  “It seems almost tame,” said Brenner.

  “It is not tame,” said Rodriguez.

  In a moment Brenner was inside the gate. He still clung to the stick he had carried in the forest. Now, inside the palisade, he realized how futile a weapon it would have been.

  Several Pons swung shut the gate.

  “Greetings,” said several Pons to Brenner. But they did not touch him. Pons did very little touching.

  The bars, the bottom one with handles, the top with poles, which fitted into sockets, were slid in place, these blocking the gate from opening.

  Brenner pressed himself against the lower bar and strained his eyes, looking out, through the palings of the gate.

  Rodriguez joined him at the gate and shone his torch through. It illuminated the carcass outside the gate, but nothing else, but a part of the clearing.

  “It’s gone,” said Brenner.

  Rodriguez slung the rifle, disguised as an optical instrument, over his shoulder.

  “It’s gone,” said Brenner.

  “Come along,” said Rodriguez, and strode away, toward the center of the village. Brenner struggled to keep up with him. At the center of the village Rodriguez did not turn left to their hut, but made rather a quarter right toward the northeast part of the village. In moments they had come to the entrance of the temple. As it might be recalled, this was a long, narrow building of wood, much of which had earth banked about it. It had a painted, carved, ornate entrance, with wooden side pillars. A Pon was near the entrance.

  “Rodriguez,” said Brenner. “This portal, the long axis of the temple. It is aligned with the string, with the platform near the cliffs!”

  “Of course,” said Rodriguez. “Have you just noticed that?”

  The Pon quickly placed himself before Rodriguez but Rodriguez, with one hand, brushed it aside. When it returned, to renew its protest, he seized it by the back of the neck and threw it a dozen feet to the side. Brenner, quite other than he would have been earlier, did not object.

  “Come along!” said Rodriguez, eagerly.

  Together, they entered the temple. There was no light within it. Rodriguez” torch illumined their way.

  “There is little here,” said Brenner, following Rodriguez through a corridor.

  Rodriguez’ light flashed here and there, revealing only heavy wooden walls.

  “There will be something here,” said Rodriguez, grimly.

  “The ceiling is high,” said Brenner.

  “That gods may better walk here,” laughed Rodriguez.

  This did not much reassure Brenner. Their footing seemed now to descend.

  Rodriguez pressed on, the light darting about.

  It was not unusual, of course, for the architecture of temples, with vistas, spacious expanses and lofty heights, to contrast vividly with that of lesser places. How often temple
s rose grandly above the hovels of the faithful.

  “There is not much art here,” said Brenner.

  “What do you expect of monkeys?” asked Rodriguez.

  “There is some carving outside,” said Brenner.

  “The corridor is widening,” said Rodriguez. “We are coming to some sort of room, or hall.”

  They were now well underground, and probably well beyond the palisade.

  They stopped before a large, rectangular portal, now closed, access to which would be obtained by means of two doors, each mounted on its wooden hinges; the interior edges of these doors, when closed, as now, would meet in the middle, and, when open, would swing to a side. These doors with their side pillars, and lintel, were carved, and painted, largely purple and yellow.

  Beside the two doors were torches, unlit, one on each side.

  Rodriguez, flicking on a lighter, an electric match, reached up and lit the torch to the right. He then snapped off the electric torch and hooked it on his belt. He then lit the torch to the left.

  “Give me a hand here,” said Rodriguez.

  Brenner went to one of the two doors of the portal and pushed against it, while Rodriguez pushed against the other. They swung inward.

  Within, to one side, they saw a Pon. It seemed frail. Perhaps it was quite old. If so, this was of interest, because most of the Pons seemed neither young nor old. They just seemed Pons. Perhaps the thing in front of them was injured, or diseased. In the village there had seemed to be little, if any evidence, of injury or disease. Perhaps that was because the afflicted were hidden away, perhaps locked away in this very place. It was robed, and a hood muchly concealed its face. It was not more than a yard in height, and would not have weighed more than thirty Commonworld pounds. It put up its hands, in a gesture which was not a threatening one, nor one of prohibition, nor of warning, nor even one which was really defensive. It was more as though it were surprised, and wanted to reach out with its hands, as though to touch, to feel, to investigate.

  “Do not be afraid,” said Rodriguez. “Come here.”

  The tiny creature approached, its hands outstretched before it.

  Rodriguez let it touch his face. Then, with two hands, he put back the hood.

  Brenner suppressed a cry of horror.