Drug addicts -- Fiction; Fantasy fiction; Magicians -- Fiction
Something in the cold assurance of his manner halted me--froze me into
apprehensive silence.
"You fool!" he said calmly. "I broke the hashish chains--do you know
how? Four minutes from now you will know and curse the day you were
born! Have you not thought it strange, the swiftness of brain, the
resilience of body--the brain that should be rusty and slow, the body
that should be weak and sluggish from years of abuse? That blow that
felled John Gordon--have you not wondered at its might? The ease with
which you mastered Major Morley's records--have you not wondered at
that? You fool, you are bound to me by chains of steel and blood and
fire! I have kept you alive and sane--I alone. Each day the life-saving
elixir has been given you in your wine. You could not live and keep
your reason without it. And I and only I know its secret!"
He glanced at a queer timepiece which stood on a table at his elbow.
"This time I had Yun Shatu leave the elixir out--I anticipated
rebellion. The time is near--ha, it strikes!"
Something else he said, but I did not hear. I did not see, nor did
I feel in the human sense of the word. I was writhing at his feet,
screaming and gibbering in the flames of such hells as men have never
dreamed of.
Aye, I knew now! He had simply given me a dope so much stronger that
it drowned the hashish. My unnatural ability was explainable now--I
had simply been acting under the stimulus of something which combined
all the hells in its make-up, which stimulated, something like heroin,
but whose effect was unnoticed by the victim. What it was, I had no
idea, nor did I believe anyone knew save that hellish being who stood
watching me with grim amusement. But it had held my brain together,
instilling into my system a need for it, and now my frightful craving
tore my soul asunder.
Never, in my moments of worst shell-shock or my moments of
hashish-craving, have I ever experienced anything like that. I burned
with the heat of a thousand hells and froze with an iciness that was
colder than any ice, a hundred times. I swept down to the deepest pits
of torture and up to the highest crags of torment--a million yelling
devils hemmed me in, shrieking and stabbing. Bone by bone, vein by
vein, cell by cell I felt my body disintegrate and fly in bloody atoms
all over the universe--and each separate cell was an entire system
of quivering, screaming nerves. And they gathered from far voids and
reunited with a greater torment.
Through the fiery bloody mists I heard my own voice screaming, a
monotonous yammering. Then with distended eyes I saw a golden goblet,
held by a claw-like hand, swim into view--a goblet filled with an amber
liquid.
With a bestial screech I seized it with both hands, being dimly aware
that the metal stem gave beneath my fingers, and brought the brim to
my lips. I drank in frenzied haste, the liquid slopping down onto my
breast.
_9. Kathulos of Egypt_
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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