The Fantasy MEGAPACK ®

by Lester Del Rey

  What will the Mistress say when her new crystal disappears?

  Explain that to the Easterner. He may offer a solution. Good thinking. Let’s tell Yellow Eyes and see what she thinks.

  The hound thought the journey was too far to make again so soon, the stone was probably not the right one, the master would beat her severely if he found her gone too long, there was less danger from the Easterner than from the master. In all, Cat got the feeling she did not want to go again.

  Would it make a difference if I go with you? Cat said finally, tired of the arguments.

  Yellow Eyes thought for a bit. It would be a good thing to have it settled. I cannot believe there is danger to the castle, but if I am wrong… She left the question open. All right. But not before tonight.

  The two cats agreed that it would be a good idea to go after the evening meal had been served. The master was not as likely to look for his hounds then. They were fortunate he had not left the castle this day.

  * * * *

  Cat remained with White Cat most of the day, leaving only after he had shared the evening meal she was served.

  Yellow Eyes was waiting at the cat door. It’s about time.

  Cat, who had hauled the white pouch with its crystal contents down the stairs in his mouth, stepped under a wide table and sat down in its shadow. I got this thing down the stairs, but I cannot carry it through the forest. It’s hard enough for me to travel by myself such long distances. Can you carry it?

  The hound moved under the table with Cat and picked the pouch up in his mouth. It would be awkward. Look. It has long strings on it tied with a knot. Could you pull them up over my head if I can get my nose into the loop?

  Good idea. Here, I can hold the knot up while you get your nose through one…

  Yellow Eyes worked with Cat until the loop was over her head. Careful. Don’t pull my ears off. There. It’s a bit tight, but not uncomfortable. I don’t think we can get it off though. Is it noticeable?

  Cat agreed that it was, indeed, noticeable. His whiskers flattened against his cheeks and his eyes sparkled. Wait here until you hear a commotion in the great hall. Then slip outside and out of the gate. I will meet you there shortly.

  Yellow Eyes watched Cat swagger toward the great hall with his tail held high. In moments, he heard a dog yelp. A great uproar of dogs barking, chasing, fighting each other sent the kitchen help rushing to the hall to see what caused the ruckus. She slipped out the door as Cat had instructed and made her way through the shadows to the gate and out through the narrow slots at its base.

  Cat arrived a few moments later, out of breath and all of his fur still on end. You know the black male who thinks he is king of the pack? I slashed his tail end and hid under a table. He jumped the nearest dog. They fought all around the hall and the humans were running around and trying to quiet things down. Food spilled. Wine went all over the floor. It was a fine brawl.

  It sounded so. I can’t stand that arrogant beast. Come. We’d best be off. It’s a long way, but I’ll go slowly.

  Quite all right, Cat said. Go at your own pace. I’ll keep up.

  * * * *

  After quite a long way at a hard run, Cat had to call out to Yellow Eyes, Ho. You are right. My legs are not as long as yours. Please slow down.

  The hound stopped and allowed Cat to catch up and rest. Sorry. It is a long way.

  Yellow Eyes allowed Cat to set the pace after that. It was full dark and the moon was high in the sky when she said, Shush, now. Just beyond this brook is where they were camped last night. Perhaps they have remained there because of the rain. I’ll stay back in the shadows with the crystal while you go into the camp. I think he will greet you kindly.

  Does the leaf-ear like cats? Cat asked.

  It did not seem to notice me. I doubt it will notice you either.

  Good! Cat muttered. I’m not sure I want to meet a creature as large as a castle gate.

  They saw the fire as they came up from the bed of the brook and made their way quietly into the brush nearby. They could see the man stirring a pot, which hung over the fire.

  I wish it was a pot of fat field mice, Cat said.

  I EAT NO MEAT. The man had caught Cat’s remark, and he looked at the brush where they hid. I WILL SHARE WHAT I HAVE WITH YOU. COME TO ME.

  Cat stepped out into the firelight with his tail held upright in a friendly gesture. He walked over to the man and sat down facing him. How is it you understand me and can speak directly to my mind? Few humans can do that.

  IN MY CULTURE THERE ARE MANY WHO HAVE THE ABILITY TO COMMUNICATE WITH OUR FELLOW CREATURES.

  The man held out a bowl, which he had filled from the pot over the fire. Light curls of steam rose from the stew and its fragrance was inviting.

  Cat smelled it politely and felt his mouth water. Thank you. Let it cool a bit. Where is this miraculous place where humans have some respect for us?

  DO YOU KNOW THE OCEANS?

  What are “oceans?” Are they the great waters my friend the hound crossed to come to this place? Did you come on a “boat?”

  IF YOU DO NOT KNOW THE OCEANS, IT IS HARD TO DESCRIBE WHERE MY COUNTRY IS. DOES IT HELP TO SAY IT IS BEYOND WHERE THE SUN ARISES?

  Cat curled his tail around his front paws. The fire felt very good on his back. That tells me that it lies to the East and is very far away. Can the leaf-ear ride on a boat?

  MY COMPANION AND I CAME SOMETIMES BY BOAT AND SOMETIMES BY MORE MIRACULOUS MEANS. THE DOG TELLS ME THAT THERE IS MUCH MAGIC IN THIS LAND. COULD SHE NOT COME BACK?

  His eyes fixed on the copse of brush where Yellow Eyes lay as he spoke, and Cat suspected that he knew she was there. Yes. She led me here. She will come in later. A Wise One has told me to ask you about the jewel you seek.

  I TOLD THE HOUND. IT IS A STONE OF POWER, SISTER TO THIS ONE. He took a white pouch from his pocket exactly like the one Yellow Eyes carried, spilling the green stone into his hand. It began at once to glow as if it had fire within. THEY CAME FROM A TEMPLE, A PLACE OF WORSHIP, IN MY HOMELAND. THE PRIESTS USED THEM TO CONTROL THE WEATHER CONDITIONS THERE. WITHOUT BOTH STONES, THEIR MAGIC IS EMPTY. OUR CROPS DIE FROM LACK OF RAIN. THE PEOPLE GO HUNGRY. I WAS SENT TO SEEK THE LOST STONE AND RETURN IT TO ITS PROPER PLACE. CAN YOU HELP?

  At what cost?

  COST?

  You are not here to punish those who took the stone?

  I HAVE ALREADY DONE THAT. BUT THE STONE HAD BEEN PASSED INTO HANDS INNOCENT OF ITS THEFT. I FOLLOW TO TAKE IT BACK AND RESTORE IT.

  I sense that you do magic.

  YOU ARE PERCEPTIVE.

  Cat lifted his right paw and licked the pads. Of course. Why did you not take the stone by magic?

  IF YOU KNOW MAGIC, YOU KNOW THAT YOU CANNOT USE MAGIC AGAINST A STONE OF POWER WITHOUT DANGER OF LOSING ITS POWER ENTIRELY. I CANNOT RISK THAT. I MUST TAKE THE STONE BY HUMAN MEANS. TRADE, PERHAPS.

  You mean no harm to the castle or its inhabitants?

  NONE.

  I believe you, Cat said. We brought the stone. We have heard that our master traded a horse for it at the fair. Our mistress has much magic. She took the stone out last night and it flashed light like blood around the room. She knows it is a power stone but does not know the use of it yet. She is going to be very angry when she finds it is missing. If we give it to you, we will displease our mistress.

  MAY I SUGGEST A SOLUTION?

  Please do. We would be glad to hear it. Cat called to Yellow Eyes, who came out of the brush, tongue hanging, tail wagging. They sat down side by side. The man made no move to take the stone though the pouch hung in plain sight.

  He reached back and pulled a large bag forward, rummaged in its contents, and brought out a pouch that looked much like the other two except that it was brocaded in silver. He poured its contents int
o his hand, another large red stone. This one lay glistening in the reflected firelight, but no flashes of crimson light lashed the area about them.

  THIS STONE HAS POWER OF ITS OWN, BUT IT IS NOT A SISTER STONE TO THE EMERALD. IT IS CUT MUCH LIKE THE OTHER AND WEIGHTS ALMOST AS MUCH. DO YOU THINK SHE WOULD NOTICE THE DIFFERENCE?

  The two animals looked at each other. Cat widened his eyes slightly. Looks the same to me. She has only seen it a couple of times. I think it could pass. How about you? He looked at Yellow Eyes.

  I think so, too. I’m willing to trade. She stood and allowed him to take the pouch from around her neck.

  He patted her kindly. I AM NOT HERE TO PUNISH, BUT I WILL REWARD MOST GENEROUSLY.

  He took the stone from its pouch and the green and red fires from both stones made both Cat and Yellow Eyes lie down and cover their eyes. He put the stones back in pouches, but he put his stone into the brocaded pouch and the stone he was going to give them into the pouch the dog had carried. Before he slipped it back over her neck, he lengthened the strings so she could pull back out of them easily when they arrived home.

  I HOPE THIS WILL BE ALL RIGHT. I WOULD NOT LIKE FOR YOU TO SUFFER ON MY ACCOUNT. HOW MAY I REWARD YOU?

  Cat switched his tail. A cat needs nothing but a good meal every day, a dry place to sleep and a little respect. I have all of these already. You could reward me with a ride back to the castle on your beast. It is a long walk.

  A SIMPLE REQUEST WHICH WILL BE GRANTED. HOUND, WHAT MAY I DO FOR YOU?

  Yellow Eyes looked at Cat sadly. I hate to leave you, Cat. You are a good friend and I think we would have good times together, but I miss my home. I would like to go home more than any other thing.

  The man smiled. I KNOW THE FEELING. CAT, IF I TAKE BOTH OF YOU ON THE BACK OF MY BEAST AND RIDE YOU TO THE CASTLE, CAN YOU CARRY THE STONE BACK TO WHERE IT BELONGS?

  Of course, Cat said.

  THEN LET US GO. I AM AS ANXIOUS TO BE HOME AS THE HOUND IS. SO IS MY BEAST. REST HERE. EAT. I WILL PACK AND MAKE READY.

  * * * *

  Cat would never forget the journey back through the woods to the castle. Small trees crashed down before them, and every once in awhile the great beast lifted her long nose and blew a trumpet call that threatened to shatter his eardrums. They rode in a little house trimmed in fine silks and cushioned in golden brocades. The beast moved in a swaying motion, making Cat dig in his claws to hold his place.

  The man held Yellow Eyes before him to keep her from falling. Cat was beginning to wish he had not helped the dog finish the bowl of stew the man had given him as they reached the edge of the woods in sight of the castle.

  There is something I would like to ask for, but I don’t know if it is possible, Cat said as they stopped within the woods.

  ASK, the man said.

  The master has said the game is gone from our forest. Is there something you could do to bring it back so we do not go hungry?

  I DO NOT EAT MEAT, the man repeated, BUT, IF THAT IS WHAT YOU WISH, IT IS DONE. I HAVE TIED THE POUCH AROUND YOUR NECK. CAN YOU MAKE YOUR WAY FROM HERE?

  Easily, Cat said. He leaped and landed on all four paws. He looked around to say good-bye and saw only the forest. Cat felt a chill go through him and his hair stood on end. He could see plainly the tracks of the leaf-ear, but there was no trace of the beast anywhere. Rat’s Eyes, he said to himself, I have never seen magic like that.

  The dawn was beginning to show on the eastern horizon as he slipped through the gate and into the cat door. The kitchen was busy, but on the stairs, few feet stirred. He made his way unseen to the tower room. The door stood partly open as it usually did. The mistress was walking about as she dressed, looking in drawers and under things, muttering to herself.

  “I know I left it on the table. Now, where has it gone?”

  Cat waited until her back was turned before he raced silently for the safety of the bed. White Cat saw him and, when she could, jumped off the bed and came under. Did you do it? Was it his stone? Is he going to harm the castle?

  We found him. It was his stone. He is a kind man, who will harm no one. He is gone. Is she looking for the stone?

  Yes, since last night. Where did he go?

  I don’t know. Vanished. He said he had magic so I suppose he took Yellow Eyes to her home and then went on to his homeland in the east.

  Yellow Eyes is gone, too?

  Poof. Gone. As soon as I jumped down from the leaf-ear, they all vanished.

  Cat, you are so clever. You have saved the castle, sent the danger away and come back safely. If only we could find some way to satisfy her. There is no way to tell her what happened.

  And no need to. The man thought of that. Here, pull this bag off my neck and push it over to the edge of the bed where it just shows under the coverlet. She will find it sooner or later and be happy. It is a stone much like the other but not the same. He had a green sister stone to the red. Together they make fire that makes you hide your eyes. I was glad to see it go. This is a much calmer jewel.

  White Cat moved close to him, purring, and licked his ears. Cat, you are truly a marvel.

  He had never been so sleepy in his life and this seemed as good a place as any to take a nap. I know, he said and closed his eyes. Tomorrow would take care of itself. He had had his adventure for today.

  SEA TIGER, by Henry S. Whitehead

  Originally published in Strange Tales of Mystery and Terror, October 1932.

  Arthur Hewitt’s first intimation of the terrific storm which struck the Barbadian off Hatteras, en route for the West Indies, was a crash which awakened him out of uneasy sleep in the narrow berth of his cabin. When he staggered up to the saloon-deck the next morning after an extremely uncomfortable, sleepless night, he looked out of the ports upon a sea which transcended anything he had ever seen. The Barbadian, heeling and hanging, wallowed in the trough of cross seas which wrenched her lofty bridge-deck.

  A steward, who was having a rather difficult time keeping his feet, fetched him a sandwich and a cup of coffee. In a little while two other passengers appeared for breakfast: one a British salesman, and the other an American ship’s officer, out of a professional berth and going to Antigua to help take off a sugar crop. The three men, warmed now by the coffee and the comfortable security of the lounge, snored and chattered intimately.

  Nevertheless, a sinister foreboding seemed to hang over them. At last Matthews, the American, voiced it plainly:

  “I hope she’ll make St. Thomas! Well—I’ve always heard that Captain Baird knows his business; a good sailorman, they say.”

  “Do you think there’ll be any let-up when we get into the Gulf Stream?” This was the Englishman, breaking a long, dreary silence.

  “More likely a let-down, I’d say,” replied the pessimistic Matthews. “She’ll be worse, if anything, in my judgment.”

  This gloomy prediction justified itself the following morning. The Barbadian had entered the Gulf Stream, and the malevolent fury of the sea increased with daylight. Hewitt came on deck, and, leaning against the jamb of a partly opened hatch on the protected leeside, looked out upon a world of heaving gray-green water with that feeling of awe which the sea in all its many moods invariably awakened in him. A gust of wind caught his unbuttoned coat, and out of a pocket and onto the wet, heaving deck slid the morocco-bound Testament which his mother had given him years before.

  He stepped out through the hatchway, cautiously, making his way precariously across the deck to where it lay caught in the metal scupper. He arrived safely against the rail, which he gripped firmly with one hand, while he stooped to recover the book with the other. As he bent forward the tail-end of an enormous overtopping wave which had caught the vessel under her weather-quarter, caught him and raised his body like a feather over the rail’s top.

  But Hewitt was not cast
into the sea. With a frantic, instinctive movement, he clung to the rail as his body struck violently against the ship’s side.

  With the Barbadian’s righting herself he found himself hanging on like grim death, his body dangling perilously over the angry waters, the Testament clutched firmly in his other hand.

  He attempted to set his feet against one of the lower railings, to hook his legs about a stanchion. He almost succeeded, and would doubtless have been back upon the deck in safety had not the crest of the following wave dislodged his one-hand hold on the rail. The angry sea took him to itself, while the laboring ship, bounding into the teeth of the gale, bore on, all unconcerned over his sudden, unceremonious departure.

  The incidents of Hewitt’s life marched through his consciousness with an incredible rapidity. He remembered his mother poignantly—his mother dead these eight years—and a salt tear mingled with the vast saltiness of this cold, inhospitable ocean which had taken him to its disastrous embrace.

  Down and down into the watery inferno he sank, weighted down with his winter boots and heavy overcoat. Strangely enough, he was not afraid, but he responded to the major mechanical impulses of a drowning man—the rigid holding of his breath, the desperate attempts to keep his head toward the surface so as to stay the sinking process, the well-nigh mechanical prayer to God.