The Fantasy Fan, February 1934: The Fans' Own MagazineVarious
History
The Fantasy Fan, February 1934: The Fans' Own Magazine
Various
Fan magazines; Fantasy fiction -- History and criticism -- Periodicals; Fantasy fiction -- Periodicals
unthinkable came and went, and the sands swirled over the mouth of the
tomb, and the door was obliterated, and none knew where Krang the
Elder God lay in stupendous slumber.
Then audacious mortals had unwittingly found traces of this mausoleum
that even legend had discredited, and they had resolved to open it and
seek the great body of the old thing that had laid unmoving since the
world was young and green, lain while the prolific vegetation died and
the sand crept upon the land and laid it into barrenness.
It was said that there had been sealed up in Krang's tomb treasures
that made avarice pale and gems the like of which no longer existed,
jewels from far worlds of the dawn of time, worlds that had died and
returned again--and the strange manuscripts with the Hsothian chants
upon them, and other equally desirable objects. Therefore, many had
set out to reach the far site of the old tomb, but few had reached it.
Some had perished, slain by the hateful green devil things that lay
beneath the surface of the sand in wait for unwary persons, and that
sprang up to drag their victims to a horrible death. Some reached
their goal and scratched and chipped the tight sealed entrance, but
it was as the gnawing of rats, and before they could do more, they had
mysteriously vanished from human ken, nor had they ever been heard of
afterwards. Yet this did not discourage others from emulating for the
desire for power will lead men far, and power there was in the tomb.
So again men were engaged in laboriously chipping away the obstruction
and making slight headway, when one of their members chanced upon an
orifice in the rock into which he thrust his arm curiously. Beyond he
touched something, and lo! The great door grated outwards, inexorably,
ruthlessly, and ground him horribly into the stone sill, leaving
naught save an unpleasant smear of brown and a dank smell came forth,
and the door was opened. Paralyzed, the survivors did not act until it
had swung firmly back into place and was immovable save by a
repetition of the catastrophe. So, though they could spare him ill,
the others forced one of their brown slave-men from distant Leek to do
this suicidal act; and he whimpered, and would have not, but they
discouraged this by subtle and hastily improvised tortures, and he
eventually complied.
They stepped delicately over the smear and caught the door; placing an
obstruction in the way, so that it might stay open. And then they
entered, the first living things in that place since their race had
appeared.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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