Dark Tower

Written by Robert Leslie Bellem

Illustrated by Watt Dell

Originally published in Spicy Mystery Stories, September 1937

Now they were of age, and the twins went together to the temple of the sorceress. "Brother shall slay brother," she prophesied but did not tell them that it would be for love of her.

Toward the black temple of L'Thala, the sorceress, went Zythac and his twin brother Kryll, in obedience to the laws of the kingdom. For it was a decree handed down by the Elder Gods that when a young man attained his majority in the country of Xanan, he must make obeisance to the sorceress and bring her costly gifts; whereat, in return, would his future be laid bare to him.

And as Zythac wended his way through the midnight, a great disturbing tremor seemed to seize his heart, and he was afraid. On the far horizon a red moon rode, full and round and bloated as if with the drinking of blood. And strange night-sounds shimmered from beyond the walls of the city, in the eternal dark forests where shaggy beast things dwelt.

Then did Kryll, Zythac's twin who resembled him not, smile and say: "Thy fear is revealed in thine eyes, O my brother; yet what hast thou to fear“

Nothing, O Kryll," Zythac did make hesitant answer; and in his soul he envied Kryll's careless self-assurance. Surely I should not be afraid to face L'Thala, who is probably but a withered crone mumbling meaningless incantations."

"True; yet you tremble,” Kryll chuckled. "Come, summon the valor which is our common ancestral birth-right. As your senior by one hour, Ibid you stiffen your spine. We approach the Dark Tower.”

Zythac then did shiver, for indeed were Kryll's words correct. They were nearing the black and grotesquely-fashioned temple wherein L'Thala, the sorceress, had served the Elder Gods since the beginning of the kingdom of Xanan, mystic centuries ago.

High was this Dark Tower, majestically soaring to the star filled velvet of the sky; and its entrance was like a black maw, open and beckoning. A desolate and ominous stillness pervaded and surrounded the temple, so that once a man passed its portal he no longer heard the shimmering night-sounds; but instead seemed to enter into an eldritch Other World of silence and mystery. Of what lay within the temple, no citizen of Xanan ever spoke; nor went any man there a second time, after the visit that marked his coming of age. This was the law and the edict of the Elder Gods.

So now came Zythac and Kryll to the tower, and they went in together; and Kryll, the tall and stalwart and unafraid, rested a reassuring hand upon Zythac's arm. Thus passed they into the mystic abode of L'Thala; where at a hidden and superhuman Force laid hold of them and dragged them forward into utter blackness.

When he felt this unnatural Force tugging him, Zythac's pale, ascetic forehead grew clammy with beads of sweat; and his yellow hair was damp with the dew of his fear. And even was Kryll, the calm, grown suddenly less bold. Invisible fingers plucked them along a descending corridor of black marble; and though there was no light, the brothers did not stumble. For a guiding Power directed them, bringing them at last to the Shrine of the Sorceress.

And as they stepped into this room of dark magic, a great light blinded their eyes, and they were bathed in a radiance of impossible beauty.

O, Elder Gods" spake Zythac as the weirdness wormed into his veins. Then did the voice choke in his throat, and an ineffable longing gripped him.

In the center of the room he perceived an altar of roseate stone, luminescent with inner light. Beyond, there was a dais and a throne of somber onyx, and on the throne sat L'Thala, priestess of the Ancient Ones.

Her beauty was ageless in its purity. Black was her long flowing hair; blacker than the walls of the Dark Tower itself. Resplendent was her body, and snowy her flesh. A gossamer cloth clung to her hips, her thighs and her white legs. Her breasts were mounded cones shielded in golden plates; and when she smiled, the unearthly perfection of her was a haunting ecstasy.

Never had Zythac beheld such feminine flawlessness; and now he was speechless with awe. And a simultaneous sorrow took possession of his heart; for he knew that he loved L'Thala, the unattainable. Having seen her, he could never delight his eyes on the charms of lesser women.

He could not keep his gaze away from the proud promontories of her breasts and supple contours of her flesh. She was all women in one; she was the Ultimate. But she was also L'Thala, the sorceress; undying, never ending, immortal and eternal. Not for any man was she; and to love her meant heartbreak and frustration.

Yet Zythac loved her.

When she spake, the sound of her voice was like music from a distant realm. “Your names?"

Locked was Zythac's tongue; but not Kryll's. Boldly his answer rang out. I am Kryll, the elder; and this be Zythac, the younger. And twins are we” He laid their combined offering upon the roseate altar. We are of age, and we seek knowledge of the future.”

Then did Zythac notice the arrogant assurance that was his brothers; the poised voice, the steady eyes that licked almost impertinently over L'Thala's partially nude charms.

And a sudden anger did well into Zythac's blood, that Kryll should thus frankly appraise and evaluate her breasts and hips and thighs and calves, as if she were a common mortal. Kryll's manner was almost that of a purchaser into slave marts, seeking a choice morsel among the barbarian captive girls. In this place, it was a profanation. So thought Zythac, but he said nothing. For there was a deep bond of affection between him and his twin nor had they ever spake a harsh word, one to the other, during the years of their lives. To Zythac, there was a psychic as well as a physical consanguinity betwixt himself and Kryll. Hence, he held his peace when Kryll's bold stare swept over L'Thala's flesh.

As to the sorceress, she seemed impervious to Kryll's eyes. She held forth her right hand. Your cartouches, please.

Together, Zythac and Kryll offered up their birth-scrolls. These were small, sealed rolls of parchment graven with the records of their births; sealed on the day they were born, and not to be opened for the first time, according to the laws of the Elder Gods.

Swiftly did L'Thala scan the miniature scrolls; and she nodded gently. "They are in order. You are both of age this day." She closed her dark eyes. And now, in the flames that will arise from the burning of the scrolls, shall I read thy futures.”

Upon the altar she kindled a blaze; and her every movement was a graceful rhapsody. She leaned forward and her breasts bulged gloriously against the restraining golden plates; the yielding white flesh changing contour each instant, so that the sight sent Zythac's blood pounding against his temples. And her thighs were liquid ivory, smooth and lilting and impossibly superb. Zythac saw them through the diaphanous drape that flowed firm a golden belt around her waist, and an ache of longing gave pain to his heart. If only he might touch her.

Now was his birth-scroll burning, and Kryll's. And the lovely priestess was staring into the small flames, whispering a litany to the Ancient Ones whom she served, and from whom her powers descended. And a sudden shadow seemed to pass over her delicate features; an expression of shock and of horror.

Then did Zythac tremble inwardly, for he sensed that she had seen some ominous event in the future; and again he knew Fear.

But not Kryll. Kryll was smiling, and his gaze was still fastened to L'Thala's breasts.

Then spake at last the priestess, her dulcet voice queerly strained: "It cannot be, for never was it thus before. Yet the Elder Gods reveal it, and theirs is the knowledge of Truth..."

Sharply came Kryll's demand: "What words are these, sweet sorceress? If there be a future, tell it and be done."

She stared at him... and through him...or so it seemed to the wordless and watching Zythac. "O, Kryll,she whispered, thou hast asked it of me, and I must tell. There is indeed a future; a dark one and terrible. Elder brother shall slay younger brother, a thing that never before hath happened in the kingdom of Xanan. And the survivor shall love someone who is forbidden; and he and his love shall flee the kingdom to dwell in exile among the Shaggy Ones of the forest..."

Whereat did Zythac stiffen in disbelief; and great was the cry wrenched from his soul. "It cannot be—It cannot" He clutched at his brother, who was still darkly smiling.

Then did the flames die to ashes upon the roseate altar, and L'Thala closed her eyes wearily and in suffering. "Go,she spake tonelessly. The future is written in unalterable words. Go, and return not; for to enter a second time into the Dark Tower means...Death"

Even as she intoned the command, the rooms weird radiance dimmed and a vast, engulfing blackness descended; and with the darkness came the strange Force laying seizure upon Zythac and Kryll, taking them from L'Thala's lovely presence and implacably hurrying them into the outer night.

Now, when once more they stood beyond the outer portal to the temple did Zythac gaze unhappily into Kryll's eyes. O, brother" he cried. The Ancient Ones have written that thou shall slay me..."

And Kryll's answering laugh was merry. An untruth, O twin. Never has such a thing taken place in Xanan; never shall it. Let us find a sheep for sacrifice; and in its blood will I swear eternal loyalty to thee."

Then found they a lamb, and with his sword did Kryll slice open its protesting throat. And in the smoking gush of crimson thus spilled did Kryll vow that the words of the sorceress should never become true.

But Zythac heeded little of the ceremony; for his thoughts were mutely elsewhere. Knew he full well that Kryll's vow was empty; for who can change the future as written by the Elder Gods? Sooner or later would Kryll cause Zythac's death; this was ordained, and it must come to pass. Yet Zythac thought not of it, for his mind was haunted by the sweet memory of the raven haired priestess L'Thala. The flawless symmetry of the body roused a throbbing ache within him; life would be bitter and empty henceforward for him, for he would never lay gaze upon her again. Knowing this, he cared little how soon death came to him at the hands of his twin. He would welcome such extinction, he thought morosely; for with dissolution would come forgetfulness.

Then, after the sacrifice, did he and Kryll return toward their parental home; and both were silent until they passed the Street of the Nymphs. Here did Kryll pause, and thus spake he: "Go alone, O Zythac, my brother; I fain would tarry here for a time."

Now was Zythac startled, for he had not known that his twin was familiar with the pleasures to be found in the Street of Nymphs. And to seek the pleasures of that district so soon after viewing L'Thala's ineffable beauty seemed almost profane.

Yet Zythac protested not; but wended his lone way homeward. And on his couch he found no slumber, but only a restless unhappiness; a wakeful misery of longing for the sorceress L'Thala, whose remembered beauty gripped him in bonds never to be sundered while breath remained in his lungs.

So great was his yearning that at last he arose and girt himself. He must see L'Thala again; he must. Even though a second visit to the Dark Tower meant death, he must feast his eyes once more upon the purity of her body. Then came to him still another thought.

The Elder Ones had written that he was to be slain by his brother Kryll; thus would an ineradicable stain blot Kryll's soul. But if Zythac now returned to the black temple and met death as a reward for his forbidden visit, the gods would be forestalled. Kryll would have no chance to slay him, for he would be already dead this very night. Hence would Kryll be saved from the future as it was written.

But as Zythac went to the portal of his room, someone appeared there; and he did halt in amazement. For his visitor was a woman; a young girl. Clad in the sheer, almost invisible silken robe of a nymph was she; and her coppery hair streamed down her back like a waterfall. Painted was her face, and smiling were her lips, and the curves of her young body were graceful challenges to his senses.

Little concealment did the silken robe afford. Through its sheer, draping folds were her contours revealed. Firm and full were her breasts, and creamy was her flesh; her hips were arched lyres, and her thighs molded columns rippling sleekly under the silk, gleaming and challenging. Upon her forehead was the branded caste-mark denoting her abode on the Street of Nymphs.

Thou art Zythac, brother of Kryll" she spake the question in a husky voice whose undertones hinted passion easily aroused.

"Zythac am I" he answered wonderingly, What seek you here, O nymph?”

“I came to see thy twin," she smiled tauntingly. But now I have changed my mind as is a woman's prerogative." And she glided toward Zythac with an undulant movement that caused her breasts to sway tantalizingly.

He stood his ground, while a leaping flurry of sensation cursed through him. Her femininity stirred strange feelings in his blood; queer ripples danced over his skin. I summoned thee not," he spake slowly.

"No. Yet now that I am here, wouldst thou bid me away?"

It were better that you depart," he answered. "I have a mission to perform this night. Time is fleeting, and the hours are short until the dawn."

She laughed mockingly. They will be shorter if we spend them...together." Again did her sleek hips undulate as she swayed toward him.

His palms grew moist. I have a task to do” “A sweet task,” she smiled redly. "The task of pressing your mouth against my lips.”

Then did she mold her voluptuous body against him, and allow her mouth to flutter, parted over his lips. And a fire flame did seem to sear his throat and enter his soul, kindling an unholy blaze there. Which was as the girl had planned it.

Now did Zythac know the meaning of overpowering emotion bursting upon him like and undamned flood of molten metal; for the nymphs single garment became somehow disarranged, so that her breasts were nearly uncovered as they yielded, distorted upon his panting chest. And her flesh quivered against him, and the fires of her kisses were deliberately urgent.

Consumed was Zythac, temporarily, by those fires; and his reluctant arms did encircle her in an embrace not of his own volition. A heady fragrance did arise from her coppery hair and her luxurious body, assailing him and overpowering his senses. Glowing and smoldering were her murky, turbulent eyes; now was her breath fanning his cheeks to fever. The smoothness of the skin was like living silk. Her breasts throbbed and were taut; and he could feel her heart beat in rhythm to the pounding of his own pulse.

Then did she draw away from him and stretch in languorous, smiling ease, lifting her lithe arms and running fingers through the copper waves of her own hair. The curves of her armpits flowed symmetrically into the white hills of her breasts, and her slumberous, narrow lidded eyes were challenging.

The white gleam of her skin and the artful crimson of her lips demanded answer. And almost did Zythac render response to her challenge; yet not quite. For even as he gathered her in his embrace and crushed her with the frenzy of the ardor she had kindled within him, he seemed to see a vision. It was the haunting face of L'Thala, the sorceress, whose beauty was seared like a brand on his soul.

And remembering L'Thala, he released the nymph and stepped back.

In puzzlement she did stare at him, and thus spake she: "What now is this, O Zythac? Why do you hesitate?"

He shook his head slowly. I want not your kisses."

Then did she arise. "In truth did Kryll speak! Right was he when he told me that you would be difficult to manage" Then her words ceased; as if she regretted their utterance.

Zythac's eyes did grow wide. "Kryll? He sent you to me?"

Once more did she attempt to lock her bare arms about him. It matters not who sent me. I am here; so be it. Let us make the most of the moment, my Zythac. Look at me—Am I not lovely? Are my breasts not warm and young? Is not my beauty attractive to thee? My flesh is soft and sleek, is it not so? Is not the fragrance of my hair pleasant to thee”

He did not answer. Instead did he turn and run from the room, toward Kryll's chamber. But Kryll was not there; his couch was undisturbed.

Now did Zythac go forth into the late night, toward the Street of Nymphs; for he must find his twin and demand explanation. Why had Kryll sent the copper-haired nymph to him? For what purpose?

Then to house after house did Zythac go. And many nymphs did greet him, in gossamer robes which they carelessly allowed to fall open so that he could see their young feminine charms. Breasts he saw, and white curved forms, and inviting smiles that tempted him; but in vain, for he sought only his brother.

And many times did he know disappointment; yet in the end did he learn something that struck a horror into his heart. For at the seventh house of his research, his inquiry brought fruit.

"Thy brother Kryll" spake a nymph with golden hair and tender body. "Yes; he was here. He sent my sister to visit thee, and paid her well."

But why? What was his purpose”

“He wanted thee occupied; so that thou wouldst not follow him when he returned to the Dark Tower. Or thus he spake when he bade—my sister go to thee."

Now did a black terror come to Zythac. "Kryll gone to the Dark Tower" he panted. O, Elder Gods" And turning, he ran on leaping strides.

Easy was it to comprehend Kryll's plan, now that its externals were made clear to Zythac. Kryll must have been more deeply stirred by the prophecy of the sorceress than he had been willing to reveal. He must have realized the grim possibilities in that prophecy. It had been written that he was to slay Zythac. And despite his vow to the contrary, over the sacrificial lamb, he must have been afraid that the slaying would indeed come true.

So Kryll now was revisiting the Dark Tower, knowing that such a second visit would bring him to destruction. Thus, dying at the hands of the Elder Gods, would he be freed of the ordained fate of slaying Zythac.

Yes; that must be it. And Zythac increased his furious pace toward the Dark Tower; for great was his love of his twin, and he wanted not Kryll to die this night. Rather would he himself meet death, leaving Kryll to live out his normal span of years.

But would he reach the Tower in time? Or had Kryll already gained his objective? Of this Zythac knew not; but desperate hope flamed within him. He must go to the Tower and enter. Then would swift death come to him, and perhaps Kryll would be saved. And perhaps, before dying, Zythac would once more see the glorious loveliness of L'Thala, the priestess.

It would be good to die with the vision of her beauty in his eyes and the haunting sweetness of her body near him, he thought as he ran. Perhaps in death she would lean over him, and his spirit would reel in ecstasy.

Came he at last to the Dark Tower, and its black maw entrance was before him, ominous and threatening in its silence. Of Kryll there was no sign; of life, no indication. An unearthly weirdness was about the temple, and ripples of fear slithered through Zythac's flesh. He was afraid.

Yet he downed his fear; and with head held high, he passed over the threshold into the Dark Towers soundless mystery.

And now the Force enveloped him, as it had on his previous visit this night; and he was dragged helplessly forward along the slanted corridor. But this time there was a difference, for the invisible Power seemed now malignant rather than benign. There was almost a physical pain that it inflicted upon Zythac seeming to stab a thousand hell-hot needles through his garb to puncture his flesh and sear his veins. So that panic came to him, and he fain would have turned and fled into outer safety.

Strangely, when he hesitated, the Force seemed to penetrate the trend of his wishes. And he found himself being pressed backward along the dark way he had come, as if unseen hands might be hurling him from the temple; aiding his desire to escape.

Then did he think of Kryll, his beloved twin; who might even now be somewhere in the Towers black recesses facing death. And with that thought, all personal fear was lost to Zythac. He must save Kryll, even at the cost of his own life. He must!

Bending his head against the Force, he staggered forward.

And after long eternities compressed into seconds, a strange and ominous thing took place. The invisible Power did suddenly cease its pressure against Zythac and a turbulent space-whirlpool replaced it. Though the lightless air was utterly calm and breezeless, a clash of mighty forces struck down; forces that tore at Zythac's body as if to rend him and demolish him. And even the black walls of the tower groaned and swayed, as if shaken by a cataclysmic quaking of the earth itself.

Horrible was this soul wrenching thing; terrifying its effect on Zythac. He staggered and reeled, battling to keep from being thrown and mangled to a shapeless mass upon the floor of the passageway. "O, Elder Gods..." he panted as a great black stone, loosened overhead, came smashing down to miss him by scant inches.

By main strength did he wrest himself from the center of the turbulence while hot sweat poured into his smarting eyes. And he did go stumbling drunkenly onward toward his unknown destiny.

In the Chamber of L'Thala, he found it.

Crimson glowed the roseate altar, weirdly bathing the room with a bloodstained light. And upon the black dais, the Throne of the Sorceress lay toppled on its side in splintered ruin. No mortal hands had wrecked this; for the throne had been of supernatural heaviness, hewn from living rock. Yet now was it destroyed in a crazy shamble of fragments; wrecked by a twisting Force beyond the knowledge of man. And at the foot of the dais the glorious L'Thala was struggling in the arms of one who seemed mad. Torn away were her golden breast plates, so that her sweet bosom was naked and revealed to profaning eyes. Ripped was her silken draping, with only tattered bits of the gossamer fabric left to cling upon her ivory thighs and hips. Horror dwelt in her eyes, and her hair was a black mass drifting about her white features and shoulders as she struggled in the embrace of her captor.

In the crimson glow, Zythac saw these things. He saw bruises upon her flesh, the marks of hands staining the purity of her skin. And now did churning rage rip through Zythac's belly at the profanation of his beloved one. Mouthing a wild and mighty oath, he hurled himself forward to battle, armed with only his bare hands.

And he did sink his fingers into the shoulders of L'Thala's bestial assailant, from behind; and he hauled the man backward. Then did the man pivot around to face Zythac; and a horrified gasp did issue from Zythac's constricted throat.

"Kryll my brother" he cried out. And Kryll did snarl in unholy hate; and he did leap viciously to fasten throttling hands around Zythac's gullet.

Now came a great agony upon Zythac as the breath of life was choked in his throat. Stabs of fire lanced his lungs, and his heart pounded tumult against his straining ribs. Wildly did he claw at his twins fingers, seeking to ease the pressure there; but Kryll's vengeful grasp was murderously unrelenting.

And Kryll did rasp: Thou fool! Wouldst thou keep me from the supreme joy of L'Thala's charms? Were you not satisfied with the nymph I sent you? But no—You too loved L'Thala, as I did. I sensed it from the beginning. And you followed me here to forestall me and take her for yourself! Now will the prophecy of the Elder Gods be fulfilled; for I shall surely slay you” And he shook Zythac with savage ferocity. Then through glazing eyes did Zythac notice L'Thala crouched at the side of her demolished throne; and he saw the shame written upon her face, and knew that he had arrived too late to save her from degradation. Now was everything hellishly clear to Zythac, and he realized why his twin had returned to the Dark Tower. Kryll had not come here seeking death, so that he would not be forced slay his brother. No. Kryll had come only because of the inviolate L'Thala.

And he had accomplished his purpose!

Then did abnormal strength flow into Zythac's sinews; for now the Elder Gods gave supernatural power to Zythac's muscles, that he might avenge L'Thala's wrong.

Once more did he pluck at Kryll's fingers; and this time did his new strength prevail. There came a curdling sound: the crunching break of finger-bones as Kryll's hands were reduced to horrid, shapeless pulp-things.

And Kryll, reeling backward in his pain, shrieked aloud.

But no mercy had Zythac now. Gone were the ties that had bonded him to his twins severed was consanguinity. He tripped Kryll to the floor and savagely straddled him. He seized Kryll's head and bashed it, bashed it against the stones, again and still again, until blood flowed in a red stream upon the mosaic and a slippery nausea of shattered brains made viscid, splotchy splashes.

Thus died Kryll, twin brother of Zythac.

And now was L'Thala in Zythac's throbbing arms, her trembling, semi-nude body pressing against his bloodstained tunic. And he felt the sweet firmness of her breasts upon his laboring chest; and saw he the light of love in her frightened eyes.

His mouth he pressed upon her lips, forcing them apart. His arms embraced the nuances of her flowing curves; and he knew superb ecstasy as he clasped her, fiercely yet tenderly; thrilling to the pulsations of her heart.

Then spake L'Thala thus: "I knew you would come, my lover. For it was written by the Ancient Ones, as I saw it in flames this midnight. Yet did I fear it might not come to pass; especially when thy brother...seized me...forced his caresses upon me." She sighed.

You knew I would come" Zythac made question.

“I knew, for it was written that you would slay him. But I feared that the future had deserted me, even as did the Elder Gods."

Zythac looked into her eyes. "The Elder Gods have deserted you" he whispered in wonderment.

She nodded. "At the touch of mortal hands, I became mortal; I was no longer a sorceress. Thus are written the laws of the Ancient Ones; and I knew it to be true, for the Tower trembled and shuddered when Kryll embraced me..."

Now did Zythac understand the turbulent storm of invisible violence that had wrenched at the Dark Tower a while ago; the same violence which must also have toppled L'Thala's throne. At the moment Kryll's profaning hands touched the sorceress, she had lost her ageless and eternal immortality. She had become human, mortal!

Yet their were mysteries still unsolved in Zythac's numbed mind; questions still unanswered. Whispered he: "But the Gods decreed that elder brother should slay the younger brother. Then how was I permitted to take Kryll's life? By your own words, it was foretold that he would kill me."

Thus did L'Thala answer; and in her answer lay all explanation. "Thou wert not the younger twin, my beloved. Thou wert the elder. This was written in your sealed birth-scroll, and in Kryll's; both of which I burned when I peered into the future for you at midnight."

"I-I was the elder? And I never knew"

"Yes, my Zythac."

Then did a sudden gladness burst upon him, and spake: "There was another prophecy. You said that elder would slay younger; that the survivor would love someone forbidden. And that he and his loved one must flee the kingdom."

In his straining arms, she nestled close; and she did look up into his eyes, softly. I am forbidden,” she whispered. If you love me, we must be exiled—or suffer death as punishment." Her lips were moistly tremulous, and her breasts quivered.

Zythac then did crush her ardently, and in that secret room of the Dark Tower he did make her his mate for as long as their years might last, since both were now mortal. And as man and wife did they leave the temple forever behind them. Then to the walls of Xanan they went, and through the gates as dawn burst redly in the east.

And the forest was before them, filled with the Shaggy Ones the beast things that dwelt in the trees and ate raw flesh. But of these shaggy monsters Zythac had no fear; for L'Thala was in his arms; and his love would protect her.

END