The Fantasy Fan, Volume 1, Number 12, August 1934: The Fan's Own MagazineVarious
History
The Fantasy Fan, Volume 1, Number 12, August 1934: The Fan's Own Magazine
Various
Fan magazines; Fantasy fiction -- History and criticism -- Periodicals; Fantasy fiction -- Periodicals
The sky was a starless void when he entered into the street, intent
upon his mission. As he hurried through the silent city, accompanied
only by his shadow, a successive lifting of vapor-mists revealed the
moon of ashen blue, but it was quickly obscured again. The air was
chill and in ceaseless motion, faintly disturbing his crimson robe. His
footsteps echoed hollowly upon the paving, and he felt that everyone
must surely hear him, but he was not accosted. A lone pedestrian abroad
for no good purpose emerged from the mist abruptly, but passed Volnar
unseeing and soon was lost in the fast-gathering dimness. It was very
late now, and he was relieved when he approached the central part of
the city with the cylinder beneath his arm, for it was increasingly
heavy and the contents unruly with new animation.
Soon he reached the handsome marble pool that was the center of Zo and
the marvel of the three towns, but which is now but a faint indentation
in the waving grass. The water was very still, and he let the thing in
the urn slide noiselessly into the pool. It sank unhurryingly to the
bottom, expanding, more solid now, and drifted away in the dimly-hidden
water. Whether it had moved of its own volition or was borne by a
current, none but the inscrutable little man could have told. Volnar
gazed after it, and apparently satisfied, departed.
He did not return to his lodging, but made directly for the mountains
upon a stolen _rogii_ which attained a remarkable speed for its bulk.
And while the fate of the three cities moved slowly about the pool, the
magician traveled ceaselessly towards Mt. Boriau. After the man and
his steed had approximated the nearer peaks, they stopped, and Volnar
knew he was within safety. Therefore he watched searchingly the far
dim mass that was the grouped cities. Nothing could be discerned, but
the watcher knew evil forces were at work, forces none could halt or
evade save by direct flight, and who was to wake the sleeping towns?
He chuckled grimly, and hoped his pet mondal was not within the doomed
area. Then he made his way more slowly toward the crags of Boriau.
During this while the strange substance grew and distended in size and
weight until it restlessly filled the large pool. It had assumed no
definite shape, but life was unquestionably within the vast prehensile
tissue that groped at the edge of its confines. It was as yet unable
to release itself and venture in search of food, but the time was not
distant. A chance pedestrian, with his moth-like cloak that was of the
type common in those days went slowly by and did not fully realize what
was happening when he saw the thing droolingly emerge from the pool.
The hundred evil eyes peered loathesomely as it extended an awful limb
and seized him, intent upon the process of absorbing nutrition.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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