Read Ebook: Ontboezemingen by Nievelt Carel Van

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Ebook has 385 lines and 51953 words, and 8 pages

STRANGER FROM SPACE

She prayed that a God would come from the skies and carry her away to bright adventures. But when he came in a metal globe, she knew only disappointment--for his godliness was oddly strange!

It was twilight on Venus--the rusty red that the eyes notice when their closed lids are raised to light. Against the glow, fantastically twisted trees spread claws of spiky leaves, and a group of clay huts thrust up sharp edges of shadow, like the abandoned toy blocks of a gigantic child. There was no sign of clear sky and stars--the heavens were roofed by a perpetual ceiling of dust-clouds.

A light glimmered in one of the huts. Feminine voices rippled across the clearing and into the jungle. There was laughter, then someone's faint and wistful sigh. One of the voices mourned, in the twittering Venusian speech, "How I envy you, Koroby! I wish I were being married tonight, like you!"

Koroby stared defiantly at the laughing faces of her bridesmaids. She shrugged hopelessly. "I don't care," she said slowly. "It will be nice to have Yasak for a husband--yes. And perhaps I do love him. I don't know." She tightened her lips as she reflected on it.

She left them, moving gracefully to the door. Venus-girls were generally of truly elfin proportions, so delicately slim that they seemed incapable of the slightest exertion. But Koroby's body was--compared to her friends'--voluptuous.

She rested against the door-frame, watching the red of the afterglow deepen to purple. "I want romance," she said, so softly that the girls had to strain forward to hear her. "I wish that there were other worlds than this--and that someone would drop out of the skies and claim me ... and take me away from here, away from all this--this monotony!"

She turned back to her friends, went to them, one of her hands, patting the head of the kneeling one. She eyed herself in the mirror.

"Well--heigh-ho! There don't seem to be any other worlds, and nobody is going to steal me away from Yasak, so I might as well get on with my preparations. The men with the litter will be here soon to carry me to the Stone City."

There was a rap at the doorway; they turned. One of the litter-bearers loomed darker than the gloomy sky. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Koroby twirled before the mirror, criticizing her appearance. "Yes, ready," she said.

"Ready!" the girls cried. Then there was a little silence.

"Shall we go now?" Koroby asked, and the litter-carrier nodded. Koroby kissed the girls, one after another. "Here, Shonka--you can have this bracelet you've always liked. And this is for you, Lolla. And here, Trossa--and you, Shia. Goodbye, darlings, goodbye--come and see me whenever you can!"

"Goodbye, Koroby!"

"This way," the litter-carrier announced, touching the girl's arm. They stumbled over the rutted clearing toward the twinkling sparks that were the lights of the other litter-bearers, colored sparks as befitted a wedding-conveyance. The winking lights were enclosed in shells of colored glass for another reason--the danger of their firing the papery jungle verdure.

It was not a new litter, built especially for the occasion--Yasak was too practical a man to sanction any kind of waste. It was the same old litter that Koroby had been watching come and go ever since she was a little girl, a canopied framework of gaudily-painted carvings. She had wondered, watching it pass, whether its cushioned floor was soft, and now, as she stepped into the litter, she patted the padding experimentally. Yes, it was soft .... And fragrant, too--a shade too fragrant. It smelled stale, hinting of other occupants, other brides being borne to other weddings....

Garlands of flowers occupied a good deal of space in it. Settled among them, she felt like a bird in a strange nest. She leaned back among them; they rustled dryly. Too bad--it had been such a dry year--

"You're comfortable?" the litter bearer asked. Koroby nodded, and the litter was lifted, was carried along the path.

The procession filed into the jungle, into a tunnel of arched branches, of elephant-eared leaves. Above the monotonous music came the hiss of the torches, the occasional startled cry of a wakened bird. The glow of the flames, in the dusty air, hung around the party, sharply defined, like a cloak of light. At times a breeze would shake the ceiling of foliage, producing the sound of rolling surf.

Koroby fingered the flowers around her throat, her eyes rapt on the passing trees. Her lips moved in the barest murmur: "If only--!" and again, "Oh, if only--!" But the music trickled on, and nothing happened; the litter seemed to float along--none of the bearers even stumbled.

They came to a cleared space of waist-high grass. It was like a canyon steeply walled by cliffs of verdure. The litter jerked as it glided along, and Koroby heard one of the bearers exclaim gruffly, "Listen!" Then the litter resumed its dream-like floating on the backs of the men.

"What was it?" another bearer asked.

"Thought I heard something," the other replied. "Shrill and high--like something screaming--"

"I don't know," the bearer volunteered.

Koroby lifted a hand. "Stop the litter," she said.

The conveyance halted. Koroby leaning out, the men peering around them, they listened. One of the bearers shouted at the musicians; the music ceased. There was nothing to be heard except the whisper of the breeze in the grass.

Then the girl heard it--a shrill, distant whine, dying away, then growing louder--and louder--it seemed to be approaching--from the sky--

All the faces were lifted up now, worriedly. The whine grew louder--Koroby's hands clenched nervously on the wreaths at her throat--

Then, far ahead, a series of bright flashes, like the lightning of the dust-storms, but brilliantly green. A silence, then staccatto reports, certainly not thunder--unlike any sound that Koroby had ever heard.

There was a babble of voices as the musicians crowded together, asking what had it been, and where--just exactly--could one suppose it had happened, that thunder--was it going to storm!

They waited, but nothing further happened--there were no more stabs of green light nor detonations. The bearers stooped to lift the litter's poles to their shoulders. "Shall we go on?" one of them asked Koroby.

She waved a hand. "Yes, go on."

The litter resumed its gentle swaying, but the music did not start again. Then, from the direction of the light-flashes, a glow appeared, shining steadily, green as the flashes had been. Noticing it, Koroby frowned. Then the path bent, and the glow swung to one side.

Suddenly Koroby reached out, tapped the shoulder of the closet bearer. "Go toward the light."

His face swung up to hers. "But--there's no path that way--"

"I don't care," she said. "Take me there." Her order had reached the others' ears, and they slowed their pace.

"Lady--believe me--it's impossible. There's nothing but matted jungle in that direction--we'd have to hack our way as we go along. And who knows how far away that light is? Besides, you're on your way to be married."

"Take me to that light!" she persisted.

They set the litter down. "We can't do that," one man said to another.

Koroby stepped out to the path, straightened up, her eyes on the glow. "You'd better," she said ominously. "Otherwise, I'll make a complaint to Yasak--"

The men eyed each other, mentally shrugging. "Well--" one yielded.

The girl whirled impatiently on the others. "Hurry!" she cried. "If you won't take me, I'll go by myself. I must get to that fire, whatever it is!" She put a hand to her heart. "I must! I must!" Then she faced the green glare again, smiling to herself.

"You can't do that!" a carrier cried.

"Well, then, you take me," she said over her shoulder.

Grumbling, they bent to the conveyance's poles, and Koroby lithely slipped to the cushions. They turned off the path, plodded through the deep grass toward the light. The litter lurched violently as their feet caught in the tangled grass, and clouds of fine dust arose from the disturbed blades.

The expedition emerged from the jungle on a sandy stretch of barren land. A thousand feet away a gigantic metal object lay on the sand, crumpled as though it had dropped from a great distance. It had been globular before the crash, and was pierced with holes like windows. What could it possibly be? A house? But whoever heard of a metal house? Why, who could forge such a thing! Yasak's house in the City had iron doors, and they were considered one of the most wonderful things of the age. It would take a giant to make such a ponderous thing as this.

A house, fallen from the sky? The green lights poured out of its crumpled part, and a strange bubbling and hissing filled the air.

Koroby stopped short, clasping her hands and involuntarily uttering a squeal of joyful excitement, for between her and the blaze, his eyes on the destruction, stood a man.....

He was very tall, and his shoulders were very wide. Oh, but he looked like a man, and stood like one--even though his hands were folded behind his back and he was probably dejected. A man in a house from the sky--

Koroby hastily grasped a corner of her gown, moistened it with saliva, and scrubbed her face. She rearranged her hair, and stepped forward.

"Don't go there--it's magic--he'll cast a spell--!" one of the bearers whispered urgently, reaching after her, but Koroby pushed him away. The litter-carriers watched the girl go, unconsciously huddling together as if feeling the need for combined strength. They withdrew into the jungle's shadows, and waited there anxiously, ready at any moment to run away.

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