Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 101: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE FIRE PEOPLE. ‘Not you, Alan. He would cry out. The noise would bring others.” She raised her knife, and her eyes blazed into mine. ‘Never have I thought to kill a human. But now I—a woman—must kill. Stand quiet, Alan.” She flew swiftly up and poised over the man. He had started toward us. Evi- dently he was, so far, as anxious for si- lence as we, for he made no sound. I saw now he was one of those who had come to Baar’s shack. His naked shoulders,” his thick neck, and bullet head were all that showed above the flower stems as he plowed his way through them directly toward me; but the hand he swung aloft to aid his progress held a knife. He glanced up at Miela, poised i in the air above him, and saw the weapon in her hand. At this new enemy he stopped, con- fused. Miela swooped down at him, and he struck at her with his knife; but she avoided it with an incredibly swift turn, and a second later had passed him and was crossing the courtyard. Round and round she flew, her great wings flapping audibly, a giant bird circling its prey. The man turned continually to face her. Several times she swooped toward him, and as swiftly avoided his blow. From every side she threatened. The man stood now bewildered, striking wild in a frenzy, as one strikes at a darting wasp. At last, with an agonized cry, he turned and ran. Instantly she dropped upon him; there was a flash of her white arm; the man’s body crumpled and lay still among the flowers. Miela was back beside me. Her breast was heaving; her eyes were full of tears; she trembled. ‘A terrible thing, Alan, my husband, for a woman to do; but it had to be.” I pressed her hand with silent under- standing. “Come, Alan,” she said. ‘ They will have heard his cry. The others—we must meet them, too.” “We must get to the king. I—” A vibrant scream rang out from the si- lence of the house—a man’s voice, shrill with agony—then suddenly stilled. 891 “Good God, Miela! is he? Take me there.” She pulled me back through the door- way. A man scurried past. I leaped at him and struck him a giancing blow with the heavy wooden pestle. He stumbled to his knees. Without thought of giving quarter, I hit him again before he could rise. He sank back, senseless or dead. Miela was ahead of me, and I ran after her along a hallway. The sound of scurry- ing footsteps sounded from overhead; a woman screamed. A broad, curving stairway fronted us. I passed Miela halfway up, and, reaching the top, ran full into another man who darted from a doorway close by. The impact of my heavier body flung him backward to the floor. J leaped over him with a shout of warning to Miela, and ran on into the room. A man was standing stock stil! in its cen- ter. It was Baar. He flung his knife at me as [ appeared, but it went wild. Two other men were coming toward me from opposite sides of the room. I swung the bludgeon about me viciously, keeping them away. Suddenly Baar shouted a command, and before I could reach any one of them they had scurried away like rats. A low bed with a huge canopy of silk stood against the wall. A woman knelt on the floor beside it, and against her knees huddled a little half-grown boy. I heard Miela’s voice shouting in her own language. The sound of men running came from below. Then Miela’s half-hysterical laughter, and then the words: “They are running away, Alan—all of them. I have been calling you to bring me the light-ray. And they are running away.” I turned to the bed, pushing its curtains aside, and then hurriedly closing them again with a shudder. Miela was beside me. “The king is dead, Miela. must not look.” Her eyes widened; her hand went to her breast. ‘‘ There is one who needs you.” I point- ed to the woman on the flo She was staring commie olen ne atm The king—where No—you