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object:1f.lovecraft - The Hoard of the Wizard-Beast
author class:H P Lovecraft
subject class:Fiction
genre class:Horror
class:chapter

By R. H. Barlow
and H. P. Lovecraft
There had happened in the teeming and many-towered city of Zeth one of
those incidents which are prone to take place in all capitals of all
worlds. Nor, simply because Zeth lies on a planet of strange beasts and
stranger vegetation, did this incident differ greatly from what might
have occurred in London or Paris or any of the great governing towns we
know. Through the cleverly concealed dishonesty of an aged but shrewd
official, the treasury was exhausted. No shining phrulder, as of old,
lay stacked about the strong-room; and over empty coffers the sardonic
spider wove webs of mocking design. When, at last, the giphath Yalden
entered that obscure vault and discovered the thefts, there were left
only some phlegmatic rats which peered sharply at him as at an alien
intruder.
There had been no accountings since Kishan the old keeper had died many
moon-turns before, and great was Yalden’s dismay to find this emptiness
instead of the expected wealth. The indifference of the small creatures
in the cracks between the flagstones could not spread itself to him.
This was a very grave matter, and would have to be met in a very prompt
and serious way. Clearly, there was nothing to do but consult Oorn, and
Oorn was a highly portentous being.
Oorn, though a creature of extremely doubtful nature, was the virtual
ruler of Zeth. It obviously belonged somewhere in the outer abyss, but
had blundered into Zeth one night and suffered capture by the shamith
priests. The coincidence of Its excessively bizarre aspect and Its
innate gift of mimicry had impressed the sacred brothers as offering
vast possibilities, hence in the end they had set It up as a god and an
oracle, organising a new brotherhood to serve It—and incidentally to
suggest the edicts it should utter and the replies It should give. Like
the Delphi and Dodona of a later world, Oorn grew famous as a giver of
judgments and solver of riddles; nor did Its essence differ from them
save that It lay infinitely earlier in Time, and upon an elder world
where all things might happen. And now Yalden, being not above the
credulousness of his day and planet, had set out for the close-guarded
and richly-fitted hall wherein Oorn brooded and mimicked the promptings
of the priests.
When Yalden came within sight of the Hall, with its tower of blue tile,
he became properly religious, and entered the building acceptably, in a
humble manner which greatly impeded progress. According to custom, the
guardians of the deity acknowledged his obeisance and pecuniary
offering, and retired behind heavy curtains to ignite the thuribles.
After everything was in readiness, Yalden murmured a conventional
prayer and bowed low before a curious empty dais studded with exotic
jewels. For a moment—as the ritual prescribed—he stayed in this abased
position, and when he arose the dais was no longer empty. Unconcernedly
munching something the priests had given It was a large pudgy creature
very hard to describe, and covered with short grey fur. Whence It had
come in so brief a time only the priests might tell, but the suppliant
knew that It was Oorn.
Hesitantly Yalden stated his unfortunate mission and asked advice;
weaving into his discourse the type of flattery which seemed to him
most discreet. Then, with anxiety, he awaited the oracle’s response.
Having tidily finished Its food, Oorn raised three small reddish eyes
to Yalden and uttered certain words in a tone of vast decisiveness:
“Gumay ere hfotuol leheht teg.” After this It vanished suddenly in a
cloud of pink smoke which seemed to issue from behind the curtain where
the acolytes were. The acolytes then came forth from their hiding-place
and spoke to Yalden, saying: “Since you have pleased the deity with
your concise statement of a very deplorable state of affairs, we are
honored by interpreting its directions. The aphorism you heard
signifies no less than the equally mystic phrase ‘Go thou unto thy
destination’ or more properly speaking, you are to slay the
monster-wizard Anathas, and replenish the treasury with its fabled
hoard.”
With this Yalden was dismissed from the temple. It may not be said in
veracity that he was fearless, for in truth, he was openly afraid of
the monster Anathas, as were all the inhabitants of Ullathia and the
surrounding land. Even those who doubted its actuality would not have
chosen to reside in the immediate neighborhood of the Cave of Three
Winds wherein it was said to dwell.
But the prospect was not without romantic appeal, and Yalden was young
and consequently unwise. He knew, among other things, that there was
always the hope of rescuing some feminine victim of the monster’s famed
and surprising erotic taste. Of the true aspect of Anathas none could
be certain; tales of a widely opposite nature being commonly
circulated. Many vowed it had been seen from afar in the form of a
giant black shadow peculiarly repugnant to human taste, while others
alleged it was a mound of gelatinous substance that oozed hatefully in
the manner of putrescent flesh. Still others claimed they had seen it
as a monstrous insect with astonishing supernumerary appurtenances. But
in one thing all coincided; namely, that it was advisable to have as
little traffic as possible with Anathas.
With due supplications to his gods and to their messenger Oorn, Yalden
set out for the Cave of Three Winds. In his bosom were mixed an
ingrained, patriotic sense of duty, and a thrill of adventurous
expectancy regarding the unknown mysteries he faced. He had not
neglected such preparations as a sensible man might make, and a wizard
of old repute had furnished him with certain singular accessories. He
had, for example, a charm which prevented his thirsting or hungering,
and wholly did away with his need for provisions. There was likewise a
glistening cape to counteract the evil emanations of a mineral that lay
scattered over the rocky ground along his course. Other warnings and
safeguards dealt with certain gaudy land-crustaceans, and with the
deathly-sweet mists which arise at certain points until dispersed by
heliotropism.
Thus shielded, Yalden fared without incident until he came to the place
of the White Worm. Here of necessity he delayed to make preparations
for finding the rest of his way. With patient diligence he captured the
small colorless maggot, and surrounded it with a curious mark made with
green paint. As was prophesied, the Lord of Worms, whose name was
Sarall, made promise of certain things in return for its freedom. Then
Yalden released it, and it crawled away after directing him on the
course he was to follow.
The sere and fruitless land through which he now travelled was totally
uninhabited. Not even the hardier of the beasts were to be seen beyond
the edge of that final plateau which separated him from his goal. Far
off, in a purplish haze, rose the mountains amidst which dwelt Anathas.
It lived not solitary, despite the lonely region around, for strange
pets resided with it—some the fabled elder monsters, and others unique
beings created by its own fearful craft.
At the heart of its cave, legend said, Anathas had concealed an
enormous hoard of jewels, gold, and other things of fabulous value. Why
so potent a wonder-worker should care for such gauds, or revel in the
counting of money, was by no means clear; but many things attested the
truth of these tastes. Great numbers of persons of stronger will and
wit than Yalden had died in remarkable manners while seeking the hoard
of the wizard-beast, and their bones were laid in a strange pattern
before the mouth of the cave, as a warning to others.
When, after countless vicissitudes, Yalden came at last into sight of
the Cave of Winds amid the glistening boulders, he knew indeed that
report had not lied concerning the isolation of Anathas’ lair. The
cavern-mouth was well-concealed, and over everything an ominous quiet
lowered. There was no trace of habitation, save of course the ossuary
ornamentation in the front yard. With his hand on the sword that had
been sanctified by a priest of Oorn, Yalden tremblingly advanced. When
he had attained the very opening of the lair, he hesitated no longer,
for it was evident that the monster was away.
Deeming this the best of all times to prosecute his business, Yalden
plunged at once within the cave. The interior was very cramped and
exceedingly dirty, but the roof glittered with an innumerable array of
small, varicoloured lights, the source of which was not to be
perceived. In the rear yawned another opening, either natural or
artificial; and to this black, low-arched burrow Yalden hastened,
crawling within it on hands and knees. Before long a faint blue
radiance glowed at the farther end, and presently the searcher emerged
into an ampler space. Straightening up, he beheld a most singular
change in his surroundings. This second cavern was tall and domed as if
it had been shapen by supernatural powers, and a soft blue and silver
light infused the gloom. Anathas, thought Yalden, lived indeed in
comfort; for this room was finer than anything in the Palace of Zeth,
or even in the Temple of Oorn, upon which had been lavished unthinkable
wealth and beauty. Yalden stood agape, but not for long, since he
desired most of all to seek the object of his quest and depart before
Anathas should return from wherever it might be. For Yalden did not
wish to encounter the monster-sorcerer of which so many tales were
told. Leaving therefore this second cave by a narrow cleft which he
saw, the seeker followed a devious and unlit way far down through the
solid rock of the plateau. This, he felt, would take him to that third
and ultimate cavern where his business lay. As he progressed, he
glimpsed ahead of him a curious glow; and at last, without warning, the
walls receded to reveal a vast open space paved solidly with blazing
coals above which flapped and shrieked an obscene flock of
wyvern-headed birds. Over the fiery surface green monstrous salamanders
slithered, eyeing the intruder with malignant speculation. And on the
far side rose the stairs of a metal dais, encrusted with jewels, and
piled high with precious objects; the hoard of the wizard-beast.
At sight of this unattainable wealth, Yalden’s fervour well-nigh
overcame him; and chaffing at his futility, he searched the sea of
flame for some way of crossing. This, he soon perceived, was not
readily to be found; for in all that glowing crypt there was only a
slight crescent of flooring near the entrance which a mortal man might
hope to walk on. Desperation, however, possessed him; so that at last
he resolved to risk all and try the fiery pavement. Better to die in
the quest than to return empty-handed. With teeth set, he started
toward the sea of flame, heedless of what might follow.
As it was, surprise seared him almost as vehemently as he had expected
the flames to do—for with his advance, the glowing floor divided to
form a narrow lane of safe cool earth leading straight to the golden
throne. Half dazed, and heedless of whatever might underlie such
curiously favouring magic, Yalden drew his sword and strode boldly
betwixt the walls of flame that rose from the rifted pavement. The heat
hurt him not at all, and the wyvern-creatures drew back, hissing, and
did not molest him.
The hoard now glistened close at hand, and Yalden thought of how he
would return to Zeth, laden with fabulous spoils and worshipped by
throngs as a hero. In his joy he forgot to wonder at Anathas’ lax care
of its treasures; nor did the very friendly behaviour of the fiery
pavement seem in any way remarkable. Even the huge arched opening
behind the dais, so oddly invisible from across the cavern, failed to
disturb him seriously. Only when he had mounted the broad stair of the
dais and stood ankle-deep amid the bizarre golden reliques of other
ages and other worlds, and the lovely, luminous gems from unknown mines
and of unknown natures and meanings, did Yalden begin to realise that
anything was wrong.
But now he perceived that the miraculous passage through the flaming
floor was closing again, leaving him marooned on the dais with the
glittering treasure he had sought. And when it had fully closed, and
his eyes had circled round vainly for some way of escape, he was hardly
reassured by the shapeless jelly-like shadow which loomed colossal and
stinking in the great archway behind the dais. He was not permitted to
faint, but was forced to observe that this shadow was infinitely more
hideous than anything hinted in any popular legend, and that its seven
iridescent eyes were regarding him with placid amusement.
Then Anathas the wizard-beast rolled fully out of the archway, mighty
in necromantic horror, and jested with the small frightened conqueror
before allowing that horde of slavering and peculiarly hungry green
salamanders to complete their slow, anticipatory ascent of the dais.
Return to “The Hoard of the Wizard-Beast”


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