RGL e-Book Cover 2018©
RGL e-Book Cover 2018©
Amazing Stories, April 1943, with "Valley of the Black Sun"
Here in this valley light became dark under
the influence of an incredible black-shining sun!
The Whimsies were her slaves; she their queen.
THE Gypsy girl's soft fingers traced the delicate lines in the palm of Gloria Duncan's hand. The Gypsy's forehead wrinkled slightly and when their eyes met across the table, there was a look of fear in them that made her lips firm and white. An expression of bewilderment that mirrored itself on the faces of Gloria Duncan and the tanned young man at her side.
"Well?" Gloria said. "I came to have my fortune told. What do you see in my future that's bright? Any tall, dark young men?"
She turned to blond-headed Ray Walters, and the deep love in her eyes betrayed her innermost thoughts. At the expression on his face, she hesitated. Walters looked as though he had seen a ghost. His dark eyes were on the Gypsy. Slowly, Gloria Duncan faced the Gypsy girl once more. The thing that had started as a lark for the two of them, had for some reason beyond her ken become dark and sinister.
"I-I don't understand," she didn't know why dread welled into her heart. "Please, what is the matter with you two?"
The Gypsy girl beyond the table stood up slowly. She moistened her lips.
"I'm sorry, Miss Duncan. You—have—no—future!"
Gloria Duncan laughed. Somehow, there was nothing else to do. They had come here, Ray and she, because Ebon Vale had gained no mean reputation as a foreteller of the future. Contrary to the world's usual picture of a fortune teller, Ebon Vale was lovely. Even as she stood before them now, swaying against the table, her wide-set blue eyes, the mass of golden hair piled in curls atop her head, made her more a queen than Gypsy.
Gloria had laughed because Ray believed in these silly things the readers of the palm could tell. Now, she laughed again, but the hysterical, frightening ring of her laughter mocked her from the curtains of the little room.
"Everyone has a future. I've paid to find out. I know this is all a joke, but after all..."
She stopped, waiting for Ebon Vale to explain herself. Ray Walters stepped close to the table that separated the couple from the strange girl with the golden hair, chilled by the look on Ebon Vale's face. There was too much fear there. Too much certainty. Her words had the ring of sincerity that frightened him.
"Look here, Miss Vale," his face was quiet and earnest, but pale. "Miss Duncan came here because we thought it would be fun. Gloria and I plan to get married next week. With all the emotional strain she is now under, I hate to worry her with foolish things. Be a sport and give her a good future with three kiddies and a cottage with roses, will you?"
He smiled at her, waiting. Ebon Vale's expression did not change. She drew away from them and her head lifted with that slight touch of haughtiness that characterizes true faith.
"You came here because you wished to laugh at me," she answered. "You thought me the dirty, tent-show fortune teller who would take your money and tell you lies. I will not take your money and I cannot lie."
"Then you mean...?"
"Exactly what I said," Ebon Vale answered through tight lips. "No one is more sorry than I that Miss Duncan has no future."
She tossed two coins on the table, turned her smoothly-clad young back to the bewildered couple and walked through the curtains. They stood alone, staring at the two half-dollars they had paid.
Gloria Duncan's fingers groped out and into Ray Walters' big brown palm. She looked up at him, smiling.
"Let's get out of here," she urged. "The darn place gives me the creeps."
There were tears in her eyes as she spoke. Gloria Duncan, for the first time in her carefree life, was deathly afraid.
SCAR VALLEY, Ray Walters had often thought, was the nicest bit
of scenery he had ever had the pleasure of driving through.
Nearly sixty miles from town and several minutes from the state
highway, the rugged walls of Scar Valley were seen by few. They
had often come here in the past, Gloria and himself to sit for
hours along the Scar River, admiring the sharp, clean-cut cliffs
and the green lushness of the valley itself.
There were tales in the little Pennsylvania towns about the "Scar." Simple hill people told their folk-tales of the whimsies, little round-bellied, flame-shaped people who darted up and down the cliffs at night, trying to lure travelers over the steep walls. All these stories made the Scar a more interesting place to visit.
Today, as Walters felt the hard firmness of the steering wheel once more in his grasp, he breathed a sigh of relief. Gloria had settled quietly into the soft leather cushions and was staring over the top of the cliffs and at the sun beyond.
"What a horrible girl," she shuddered suddenly. "It's—it's good to be out in the sun again."
Walters turned carefully, looked at her. Gloria Duncan was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. In three days they would be married. All the freshness of those cool chestnut locks of hair, the warm gray eyes would be his. Every inch of her from slim ankles to the laughing lips would be his treasure.
They rode in silence for several minutes. The valley was nearly three miles long and another five minutes would take them through the high gap that closed it from the world. In spite of himself, the Vale girl troubled Walters. He knew that Gloria was thinking of her also.
"You have no future."
He shivered, remembering the words and what they implied. What in the name of common sense could happen to Gloria? She was a picture of health.
Although the Pennsylvania sun still burned high in the sky, a slight haze came in slowly and darkened the valley. Without realizing it, Walters drove a bit faster. Something tense and shadowlike was dropping down over Scar Valley. He switched on his parking lights, he might meet another car on the road.
The haze grew thicker.
"Ray?"
"What is it, sweet?"
"That haze? I've never seen it this way before. It's getting quite dark."
He sat forward on his cushion, eyes glued to the darkening road. Still a mile to go. He switched on the headlights and they cut ahead through the gathering darkness. Ray Walters shook his head.
"I don't like it," he said worriedly. "Almost like an eclipse. There aren't any scheduled, are there?"
She snuggled closer to him in the broad seat, her fingers seeking his arm.
"I don't read the papers," she laughed nervously.
IT was getting to be a nuisance now.
The darkness had settled completely, making a world of blackness with them in the center of it, a world that something other than common sense told him consisted of Gloria, himself, and that queer girl back in the old house.
"I wish we hadn't come," Gloria's voice was becoming hysterical. "There's going to be a storm. Maybe—maybe this is what Ebon Vale meant."
Ebon Vale! Walters' fingers tightened on the wheel and automatically he pushed harder on the accelerator. His fingers were wet and white beads of perspiration started from his face.
Ebon Vale—black valley! One and the same. The girl's name meant black valley. Why hadn't he thought of it before?
The Scar River came in tight beside them now and the road plunged into the last mile. The canyon was close, twisting out toward daylight and safety. The girl at his side, overcome with terror, clung close to him. High above him on the blank walls of the canyon he thought he saw sudden flashes of flamelike light. They darted up and down against the black curtain of rock.
Far ahead around the last curve, daylight filtered in—the sunlight that he was fighting to reach. One more curve, high above the roaring chasm of the Scar's swirling bed...
A lonely pine marked the curve. Ray Walters spun the wheel around, felt the tires spin in six inches of loose sand. He realized with a curious chill that he had been going too fast! They started to turn, to twist toward the edge of the sand- covered rock. He jammed down the foot brake, pulling the wheel around as far as it would go. Gloria screamed. It echoed against the stone walls, hurtling back to them with all the pent-up fear that was in her heart. The car tipped crazily up on two wheels and spilled over the edge of the canyon. It fell end over end into the deep swirling water below.
Through Ray Walters' head, as they poised that one second in mid air, one message pounded home a million times.
"You have no future! You-have-no-future! You... have... no...
"YOU are safe now. There is no cause to worry." Ray Walters
heard the voice seemingly from far away, and recognized it at
once. It was Ebon Vale. He tried to sit up and was surprised to
find that no river water soaked his clothing. Rather, he felt as
though he had been long and refreshingly asleep. Nothing in Ebon
Vale's room had changed.
Ebon Vale, cool and lovely, was standing over him. She was clothed in an ankle-length robe of shining, translucent material. It wrapped smoothly around her body leaving the wealth of long hair, the smooth shoulders free. As he stared up at her from the couch, she smiled. Something far-away and haunting in that smile brought him upright, frightened for Gloria.
"Gloria... where is she?" He tried to stand up, felt her force him backward with a light touch of her hand and realized that his body was without strength to resist. It was as though a strange spell had been cast over him.
"I told your fiancee that she had no future," Ebon Vale said swiftly. "She was killed when your car went over the cliff."
He forced himself upright, staring at her with angry eyes.
"You lie," he shouted hoarsely. "You—you..."
Ebon Vale's expression didn't change. The same look of patience was there. He allowed himself to fall back against the brocaded pillows of the couch.
"Believe me," she said. "It was not my choice that you stay in the Valley of the Black Sun. I am not in control..."
"Wait a minute," Walters got up from the couch, stood over her. She shrank away from him as he looked down at her. "The valley of what?"
"You were left alone in the Valley of the Black Sun," she explained. "Those who see the sun fade here, can never see it arise again elsewhere. Gloria Duncan is dead, but of the two, perhaps she is the most fortunate."
He clutched the softness of her arms above the elbows and shook her.
"You've done something to Gloria! The black sun business, the wreck. They were your doing."
"No! Please release me. I only predict. I cannot force the decisions of the Whimsies."
"Whimsies?" Walters released her, letting his arms fall hopelessly at his side. "Either I'm crazy or you are. What in the devil are the Whimsies?"
Ebon Vale stepped away from him, rubbing the red marks that showed on her arms where he had gripped her. Her head dropped forward humbly.
"Perhaps in your world I am crazy," she admitted. "When you hear the story of the valley you will believe me. They will convince you."
Ray Walters, feeling that he was about to lose the last bit of remaining sense he had, sank back to the edge of the couch. Could this be happening in the center of Pennsylvania on the banks of a normal river encased by the granite walls of a natural valley? But there was no mistaking Ebon Vale's sincerity. At least to him, she was being honest.
"All right," he said finally. "Tell me the story and what part I'm to play in this crazy business."
"You play no part," she answered simply. "The Whimsies have chosen you to be my mate. You will live here away from the sight of normal man and act as figure-head ruler of the Whimsies, even as I will be their Queen."
"THERE are tone scales and light scales," said Ebon Vale,
"that are not audible or visible to human senses."
She sat on the low rock wall of the garden behind the great house, her fingers toying with the stem of a queerly blackened daisy. Ray Walters sat at her feet, conscious of the intense blackness of everything about him. The valley looked the same as it had before, with the difference that everything was in black and white. The trees, the land, the cliffs that towered in a distance, were in fine shades of black and gray. His eyes saw no color, even in the girl. She was like a figure cut from black paper and placed there on the wall before him. He listened patiently, trying to find some clue to this insanity.
"Most people consider the Whimsies are part of a fairy tale," Ebon Vale went on. "For many years people have seen them here at night, bright flaming beings, and gone away thinking that they could not actually exist.
"Yet, the Whimsies are very much alive. Some say they are imps of hell, sent here to practice their mischief."
"And you?" Ray asked. "How did a girl like yourself get into this black mess?"
She leaned back against a stone that was higher than the rest.
"The Whimsies chose me because I had come here to live. They changed my vision so that I saw their world in this valley, not my own. Just as, in a like manner, they have changed you.
"The Valley of the Black Sun is as it is, because in your eyes as they now are, a vast curtain of cloud hangs over it. The sun filters through that screen changing it to a light that is not visible to the human eye. If you do not believe, look up."
Walters studied the sky above them. Far to the west a vast ball of blackness was sinking over the cliff. The sun turned black as night. Yet the valley seemed to responds to its light, sending shades of gray and black across the opposite wall.
"It will be night soon," Ebon Vale said. "Then the Whimsies will come to take their place here."
The blackness of the sun was gone. The girl stood up, looking pale and lovely against the wall.
"It's all wild—impossible," Walters confessed, "but I'm beginning to believe it. What of the Whimsies? I still know little of the part I am to play."
Ebon Vale's face grew tense. She stepped close to him and her hair, blowing in the dark air, swept from her neck and against his coat. Her arms reached up and around his neck.
"I am alone with you, a girl who is to be your queen," her lips were warm against his. He pulled his head away, startled.
"You still wish to know the part you are to play?" she asked, drew his head down again.
This time he did not force her from him. With the warmness of her pressed to him, lips soft against his own.
For a moment he forgot Gloria and the world he had lost only this afternoon. He closed his eyes tightly.
The depths of his eyeballs suddenly shot white hot fire into his brain.
There was daylight; bright, flashing sunlight in his eyes. He wasn't holding Ebon Vale. In the flashing intensity of the light that cut into him, he saw Gloria. She stood, arms about his neck, staring up at him beseechingly. Her expression of humiliation and sorrow sent him reeling backward. With effort he opened his eyes again.
Ebon Vale was still there, several feet from him, staring with fright at the man before her.
"Gloria!" he shouted. "I saw her. She was here, in my arms."
He was sure now, that Gloria was not dead. Whatever the spell that was upon him, Gloria was alive and suffering. He would for the time being, do as he was told. Later, when he knew something of this wild fantasy he faced, there would be time. There was the small comfort that when he wished, his longing could for a minute erase this world in black and white and regardless of its terrors, bring back his own colorful surroundings.
"Okay, my Queen," he said with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "I'll behave myself from now on."
Did he fancy it, or was there a sudden look of intense hatred in the eyes of the girl who took his hand.
"We must go now," she said. "The Whimsies will be waiting."
THE queer black sun was gone. Scar Valley seemed asleep under
a black drape of night. As Ray Walters followed the girl down the
incline from the old house, he wanted to close his eyes once
more; summon that vision of his own world. He thought of Gloria
and that look in her eyes of horrified anguish. Ebon Vale had
said she was dead. But she wasn't!
The road was short to the cliff. He followed Ebon Vale quietly, depending on her as he would a staff. He had been here before. He and Gloria had sat beneath these very trees, feasting their eyes on the green of the valley. It was changed now... dark and dead, like a flat photo in black and white.
He stumbled forward like a man in a deep dream. Ahead, on the face of the cliff tiny flashes of red flame flickered up and faded against the rock. There were more of them now, seeming to fly inward toward the rock wall&mdash converging in a group around the large hole of a cave.
The girl turned, a smile on her lips.
"It will not be long," she whispered. "You need not be afraid."
At that moment fear was far from Walters' mind. Only a curious, dull feeling of distrust. A feeling that Ebon Vale, her body swaying ahead of him like a white torch in the darkness, was planning his destiny alone. The feeling that this world of black was of her making and hers alone. But in spite of every attempt he made to hate her, there came that overpowering attraction to her body.
The forest cleared and across a short stretch of black meadow a great hole opened into the face of the cliff. Through it poured a steady, darting stream of the red flashes he had seen against the wall.
"We are here," she stopped, took his arm and held herself close to him. "You may lead."
Walters crossed the meadow like a man led to his own hell and went down the sharp incline into the cave. Ahead was only blackness. It was broken by the steady flow of the fire-like Whimsies who darted through the air on all sides of them.
From below, warm air and the steady chatter of tiny, musical voices drifted up. He went down, Ebon Vale's hand still tightly clenched on his arm.
Then the cave opened wide and a huge chamber confronted them. Walters stopped short, his eyes wide with what he saw. The Whimsies -were alive! They had sharply pointed little faces, tiny horns and paunchy bellies that appeared to have absorbed more than their share of food.
They were tiny folk, hardly more than eight inches tall. Their bodies were for the most part, feathery and brightly red. Long, arrow-pointed tails twisted behind them as they swirled through the air.
EBON VALE went ahead of him again, across the open cavern to a
huge rock that was carved roughly to seat a human figure. She
turned her face to him, sank back into the rock chair and
motioned him toward her. The cavern was alive with the light of
the Whimsies now. He went forward and sank down beside her.
"You need not fear for your safety or your sanity," she said quietly. "Some would call these people my brain children. They are harmless."
The Whimsies seemed wildly excited now. They swirled into a tight circle around the pair and one of them settled to Ebon Vale's knee.
He was slightly larger than the others and his tail spread across her lap and dropped over the edge. He spoke, and his voice was loud and shrill, like a small child's.
"Our queen brings a visitor?"
She reached down and stroked the sprite's head gently.
"I bring you a ruler," she corrected gently. "He will stay with me and help with our affairs."
At once an angry shout went up around her.
"We need no king. Our land is well ruled by you. The affairs of the Whimsies are not for humans."
Ebon Vale held her arm aloft. Anger flashed in her eyes and for the second time, Ray Walters could swear he saw cruel sadism there.
"I wish this man to rule," she shouted. "My wish is not to be questioned."
The Whimsie on her knee turned to the flashing horde behind him.
"The valley of the black sun will be ruled as our queen sees fit," he squealed. "You will remain silent."
Returning his attention to Ebon Vale, he continued.
"There are affairs for our queen tonight," his tiny eyes flashed devilishly.
"Hearts to be mended—fun to be had—worries are over—the Whimsies are mad."
The word mad—mad—mad went bounding around the cavern on the lips of the tiny throng.
"It's all a damned nightmare!" Ray Walters whispered to himself. "A crazy, insane dream."
His head was pounding with the shrill shouting in his ears. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to escape the sound. Then it happened again...
At once Ebon Vale was gone. The Whimsies were gone. In the girl's place, seated on the cave chair was Gloria Duncan.
HE wanted to speak to her, but he couldn't. She sat there before him, in the empty black cave. Her lips moved and he knew she was begging him to free her.
"Take me home," the lips moved freely. "Please, take me home before it's too late."
"Too late for what?" he wanted to scream. Something bit sharply into his shoulder. His eyes snapped open with pain. The Whimsie had jumped from Ebon Vale's knee and plunged his hard, arrow-like tail into Walters' shoulder. The girl seemed to be waiting for him, still angry from her quarrel with the Whimsies.
"You are tired?" she asked. Her voice was edged with sarcasm. "I suggest that your eyes remain open."
"Yes," the Whimsie settled once more on her lap. "You'll be much more contented."
Something within Ray Walters rebelled.
He wondered suddenly why he had not fought his way out of here long ago. Why he had succumbed so gracefully to Ebon Vale's every wish? He was still sure that somewhere Gloria was waiting for him alive. If he could not force himself from the dream in any other manner, he'd fight his way out.
He stood up quickly, wondering what the reaction would be.
"You grow bored so soon?" Ebon
Vale arose, to stand before him with flashing eyes. "I suggest you cause me no further trouble. It was difficult enough to obtain you."
"Obtain?" Blind anger came over him. "I don't understand. Did you plan all this deliberately?"
He wanted to turn away. To go from the cave in spite of all she could do to prevent it. The slumberous passion that arose in Ebon Vale's eyes held him as though he were tied. She pressed against him and the warmth of the entire place seeped into his body. Her eyes seemed to drink from his own and as she stared, Walters realized that he was being hypnotized as surely as though he stared into the eyes of a cobra.
The intense desire to sleep came over him. The cave flashed bright with the flame of the Whimsies, and grew black before his eyes. In his sleep nothing troubled him. No visions of Gloria. No black sun.
LIKE a broken record, the voice said over and over:
"I am Akimba—I am Akimba—I am Ak..."
"Go away Akimba and let me sleep." Walters rolled over on the rough floor, felt a sharp twinge of pain in his shoulder and sat up. Rubbing his eyes he looked about.
He was still in the cavern, but the place was deserted. Or was it? What about Akimba, the troublesome voice?
He stood up and brushed the sand from his trousers. Yes, Akimba was there. He was the Whimsie who had sat on Ebon Vale's knee. The little red sprite who had ruled the works. Akimba fluttered down from his place on the cave shelf, hit the floor with a thump and strutted across the sand. Now that Walters had time to look him over more closely, the little chap wasn't half as hard to believe. He had legs that were feather-covered, and a small bare stomach. As he walked, he wobbled a little under the weight of his load.
"Too much honey," Akimba said wryly, rubbing his stomach. "Can't leave the stuff alone."
As insane as it seemed to talk with something one couldn't even believe existed, Ray Walters had no choice.
"Where is the girl, Ebon Vale," he asked. "The rest of—of you. Why are we alone?"
Akimba grasped his stomach and pulled it up to the position of an inflated chest.
"They're gone," he announced proudly. "I've been assigned to guard you. Three black suns have passed since you slept first. We are to go to our queen now that you have awakened."
The thought entered Walters' mind that here was an opportunity to escape. What possible chance would the tiny Whimsie have to hold him, once he decided to go?
"If you're looking me over with any thought of me being helpless," the sprite said suddenly, "perish the thought or it will perish you. My tail can get mighty poisonous when I want it to."
Walters chuckled.
"Smart little fellow aren't you?"
Akimba snorted.
"None smarter," he agreed. "I even had ideas of being king until you came along."
Hold everything, Walters thought. Perhaps there is a chance.
"Just what does this kingship consist of," he asked. "Now that I'm here, I'd like to know my duties."
"It ain't the job it used to be," Akimba's face darkened. "There was a time..."
He stopped suddenly, as though fearing to go on.
"There was a time..." Walters prompted. "Go on, tell me about yourself." Akimba settled down comfortably.
"If she finds out," he said with a glance toward the door, "I'll lose my neck. Well! What the heck, why not?"
AKIMBA talked fast, his tiny voice sounding like a badly
tuned flute.
"The valley of the black sun was our home long before Ebon Vale came here," he started. "People have seen us for centuries. We do no harm in our cave and at a distance we just look like fireflies."
"But where did you come from?" Walters broke in. "What do you do here?" Akimba's eyes twinkled.
"Ever hear of Rip Van Winkle and the dwarfs?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Well, we're like the dwarfs," Akimba went on. "We were here from the beginning, and there just isn't any reason for us. We like it here. No one troubled us until Ebon Vale came.
"You see, she learned the magic of the black sun."
Walters was growing interested.
"How," he asked, "am I able to see your world and the black sun? When I came here before, I never suspected."
"That's a simple story," Akimba answered. "Ebon Vale is a strange woman. No, let me say she is the complex personalities of many women. She came here many years ago and in her heart was the secret of seeing things no other could see."
Walters sat down and crossed his legs. For a moment they were silent.
"Why?" Walters asked, "do you say she is a part of many women?"
Akimbo grinned wisely.
"Ebon Vale would have died a hundred years ago, were she not able to utilize the minds of younger women to preserve her own body."
The Whimsie's words left Walters thunderstruck.
"A hundred—years...?"
"Ebon Vale came here two hundred years ago. She came from an eastern country across the sea. She remains invisible until she wishes to regain more youth. Then, with her secrets, she draws young girls to her side and takes from them what she wishes."
In Walters' brain there surged the memory of Gloria Duncan. How, at times, when he closed his eyes, she and not Ebon Vale was before him.
Then this was the explanation. It was not Ebon Vale at all that was beside him, but Gloria Duncan, imprisoned within the Gypsy's body.
Akimba was growing impatient with the pause.
"Well," he asked, "what more does the mighty, but helpless king wish to know?"
"The black sun?" Walters begged. "Tell me about it. Why do I see it?"
Akimba shook his head sadly.
"That I do not know. It is some sort of spell that Ebon Vale casts upon you. I think you humans call it hypnosis. I understand little, except that without it we Whimsies would be rid of all you humans, and could dance about the cliffs to our hearts' content without bowing to a queen and king."
He spat the last words out as though they were very distasteful to him.
IN Ray Walters' mind a plan was slowly formulating. A plan that might be wild, but not nearly as fantastic as the things he had just listened to.
"How would you like to be free?" he asked suddenly. "How would you like to be rid of both your queen and myself?"
Akimba's eyes danced with joy, then his face darkened.
"Can't be done," he said. "We've tried."
"Give me a chance," Walters begged. "I'd do anything to get out of this nightmare myself."
Akimba thought for a long time. His tail danced about restlessly.
"All right," he said finally. "Go ahead, and welcome. What do I have to do?"
"Just get me out of this place," Walters answered quickly. "Show me the way back to Ebon Vale's house and I'll do the rest."
"You can't find out her secret," Akimba cried. "She'll kill us all."
"How?"
"With her magic." Akimba was truly distressed. "She makes us bring her food, clothing. She makes us frighten all people away so that she may have the valley to herself. If we don't do it, she'll destroy the screen that brings the black sun and we will all perish."
"Listen to me, little man. This valley protects you and her, because your eyes are tuned to the screen that makes it dark and safe. To us humans who come here every day there is no black sun. It is the bright sun, splashing down on green and brown and all the colors of the universe."*
* Let no thought of fantasy enter your minds so far as the "black sun" is concerned. There exist, beyond the approach of the human eye, certain light rays that are invisible. Experiments create artificial black light. Yet there can be no doubt that it is possible for black light to exist in a natural state; in other words, light that we cannot see with the eyes we now have, and yet would be clearly visible with some other type of eye.
Watch a dog some time as he stops suddenly in his track and starts barking loudly at some object that in our eyes does not exist. Is there any proof that it does not exist in the dog's eyes? —Ed.
Akimba was properly startled with this statement.
"You don't mean that Ebon Vale has been lying to us That she has no power over our world?"
Walters nodded.
"I mean exactly that," he said. "If you existed for centuries before she came, why should you depend on her now?"
Akimba stood up, stomping his feathered feet angrily.
"What are we waiting for?" he shouted.
RAY WALTERS was almost upon the old house before he could see
it through the black mist that covered his eyes. Akimba, anxious
and worried, he left behind at the cave door. Once, just before
he opened the door to the old house in the valley, Walters closed
his eyes. Sun flashed in them and the valley was green again.
Daylight blinded him and he opened them quickly.
Somehow Ebon Vale's spell only partly worked on him. It Was on her failure that he must depend. If, when the struggle came, could he close his eyes tightly enough?
The door opened protestingly under his hand. The huge room at the front was empty. He could hear a silvery voice, singing somewhere beyond the door. Opening it slowly he saw Ebon Vale as lovely as ever, standing with her back turned to him. She turned, as though sensing his presence.
He went to her, clenching his teeth. She tried to catch his eyes with hers, but he looked straight at her throat and riveted his gaze there. Her arms went about him, holding him close to her. For that next instant he fought off the desire to look at her face; her smooth cheek, her deep eyes.
A shiver ran through him and he remembered that this was not a girl, but a creature who ruled the valley with youthfulness stolen from others.
Closing his eyes tightly, he concentrated on seeing Gloria Duncan. He heard her gasp with surprise as his arms went around her waist. Then, as she screamed her hatred, he pressed his lips tightly to hers.
The brilliance of a thousand suns seemed to strike him directly in the face. Light tore through his head, pounding against every nerve in his body. He opened his eyes.
He saw Ebon Vale, as lovely as she had ever been. Her body, tense and fighting at first, gradually relaxed against him. Her eyes were vague in his sight. He could only see lips and soft, waving hair. The face changed. The pain went from his head and it was as though he was gradually awakening. Coming through the darkness into the light, and the light felt good once more.
He knew she was drawing him back and that she was no longer frightened, but determined. The couch was behind them, but before he reached it the face close to his began to change. The features of Ebon Vale faded. In their place were the blurred, lovable dimples, the faithful eyes of Gloria Duncan. He held her closer, breathing a prayer for what was taking place. Suddenly they were falling, together, through space.
WHEN Gloria Duncan awakened that morning in City Hospital, she
was radiantly happy once more. She looked around her at the clean
curtains, the spotless walls.
"Ray!" She raised her voice gently.
Walters sat beside her smiling. His eyes were covered with a bandage.
"Yes, Sweet. Feel better this morning?"
She sighed, stretching back comfortably on the smooth pillows.
"Much, Ray. I'd like you to tell me something."
For a moment fear ran through him. Fear for what she might know. He steeled himself.
"Go on," he urged. "Ask your questions."
Gloria sat up, leaning on one elbow.
"Doctor Saunders says they found us lying unconscious in each other's arms, on the river bank," she said. "How did we escape?"
"I think in the excitement I must have pulled you out of the water and then passed out," he answered.
She smiled at him tenderly.
"Doctor says I'll have these bandages off my eyes in a couple of days," he said. "I can't understand what happened to my eyesight. He says that I was stone blind when they brought me in. A film which he can't describe, is already fading away."
Ray Walters took her hand in his, after fumbling for it.
She said: "We're safe, the fortune teller was wrong, I have a future. That's all there is to it."
"I wish that was all there is to it," he said softly. "They couldn't locate Ebon Vale when they went for her. There was some talk about finding the body of an old, woman in the house where she had been."
Walters held her tightly against him.
"It's like the old fables of the firefly Whimsies," he said. "You can't believe the things the old timers say about Scar Valley. It's a breeding place for myths."
"It was odd," Gloria breathed as he released his hold on her. "I had sure a mess of conflicting dreams until I regained consciousness here. You know, I saw those Whimsies you mentioned..."