knowing that first he must find the priestess.
'Wait here,' he said. 'Do not move away till I return.'
The giant drew back in the shelter of a tree, watching Ardath cross the thoroughfare toward a gate where a soldier lounged on his spear.
The guard straightened, ready to challenge the Kyrian's entry into the city. Suddenly his eyes went blank and blind as they met Ardath's. Ordinary hypnotism worked well on these superstitious folk.
Ardath went through the gate. The bulk of a temple rose before him. Built of porphyry and onyx and rose marble, it seemed to rest on the sward as lightly as gossamer. Despite its hugeness, it had been constructed with an eye for proportion, so that it. was utterly lovely, a symphony in stone. A curving stairway rose toward bronze gates that stood ajar, with a soldier on guard at each side.
Quietly Ardath went on. The guards did not move, once they had felt the impact of his gaze.
He entered the temple, found it vast, with a high-arched dome, and smoky with incense. The floor was green as the sea. Jade-green, too, was the flat-topped altar that loomed before him.
Behind the altar the sacred trident reared, and smoke coiled lazily about its prongs. A shaven-headed, soft- faced priest turned to face Ardath.
'You have come to pay homage to Dagon,' he said, rather than asked. 'Where are your tributes? Do you come empty-handed?'
Ardath decided to change his tactics.. He fixed his stare upon the priest, summoning all his will. The man hesitated, spoke a few thick words, and drew back.
'You—seem strange,' he muttered. 'Your form changes.'
To the hypnotized priest it seemed as though a light mist had gathered about Ardath's body. It thickened and swirled, and suddenly where had been the figure of a man was something entirely different.
It was Dagon, the sea god, as the priest pictured him in his own imagination!
The man went chalk-white. He collapsed on the floor, so paralyzed with fright and amazement that for a moment Ardath feared he had fainted.
'You know me,' Ardath said softly.
'Great Master, forgive your servant…'
The priest babbled frantic incoherent prayers that sounded like gibberish.
'Bring the priestess Jansaiya to me,' Ardath commanded.
'At once! At once!'
The man backed behind a tapestry and was gone. Ardath lifted ironic eyebrows, for this was altogether too easy. When he felt under his robe for certain weapons he had brought with him from the ship, he nodded. Hypnotism was a ticklish trick. It was undependable, whereas weapons were not.
But the priest returned, leading a veiled, slight, feminine figure. Both bowed to the floor.
Ardath lifted the girl to her feet. He pulled aside the veil, found that no deception had been practiced upon him. This was the priestess, the beautiful Jansaiya…
CHAPTER VI
Unforgettable Land
Wonderfully lovely she was, with elfin, childlike features that somehow held a certain sophistication, and even a suggestion of inherent, latent cruelty. Her hair was bright gold, her eyes sea-green. Though she was tiny as a nereid, her delicately symmetrical figure was not in the least childlike.
She came closer to Ardath. Suddenly he felt a searing pain on his arm and drew away sharply.
'This is no god!' Jansaiya cried, her voice like tinkling silver bells. 'Blood flows through his veins. He is human, and an impostor!'
She drew away, a small dagger still clenched in her hand. Ardath glanced wryly at the long scratch on his arm, yet he caught the quick stir of movement.
As though by magic, the temple was full of shaven-headed priests. From behind the tapestried walls they came swiftly, forming a ring about Ardath. Their steel swords glittered no less coldly than their eyes.
'We, too, know something of hypnotism,' one of them rasped in contempt. 'There are ways of testing even gods.'
Ardath thought quickly. His foes were at least two score. Hypnotism would be useless now, but he had other weapons. Under his gown was a projector that would have slain every priest in the temple, if he had cared to use it.
He did not. Ardath's alien philosophy forbade the unnecessary taking of Me. Instead, his hand, hidden in a fold of the toga, moved almost imperceptibly. A tiny crystalline sphere dropped to the green tiles of the floor and Ardath put his sandalled foot over it.
'Do you yield?' the leader of the priests asked.
Ardath smashed the globe with his sole, at the same time holding his breath.
Instantly a colorless, odorless gas diffused through the temple. The priests no longer could move. Frozen statue-like, they stood gripping their weapons and staring blindly straight ahead. The gas had a certain anaesthetic quality which warped their time-sense and slowed down their reactions tremendously. To their slowed vision, it seemed as though Ardath vanished instantaneously when he stepped aside.
Hastily he looked around, still holding his breath. The temple was silent. No new enemy had appeared. Ardath wrenched a sword from a motionless priest and held it lightly in his right hand. He strode quickly to the priestess and lifted her under one arm. Ardath was no giant, but his muscles were steel-strong, and Jansaiya was tiny.
Carrying his light captive, he hurried out of the temple.
The two guards at the gate had not moved. They remained passive as Ardath descended the stairs and went through the outer portal into the street. The sentry there was also motionless and silent.
But behind Ardath rose a clamor and an outcry.
Nowhere could huge Thordred be seen. He had not waited. Perhaps he had been taken prisoner.
Ardath's first step now was to return to the ship. After that, when the Kyrian gathered more resources, Thordred could be rescued. But at that moment there was no time for delay.
Bending low, Ardath ran along the street. The noise of pursuit followed close behind him, abruptly swelling to a thunder of iron hoofs. Down upon the Kyrian rode a horseman in glittering armor, sword lifted in menace. The bearded soldier shouted a searing curse. Out of the temple gates the priests poured.
'Slay him!' they yelled as they raced after Ardath. 'Slay him!'
Ardath had no time to employ any weapon but the sword that was bare in his hand. He threw Jansaiya aside, out of danger. Quickly he reversed the blade, gripping it by the point. As the horseman thundered down, he flung the steel like a club.
The street exploded into a blinding blur of action. Ardath dodged aside as ringing hoofs clashed on the pavement. The soldier's sword screamed ominously through the air, but Ardath's missile had found its mark. Its heavy hilt had smashed against the horseman's bare forehead. The man was slumped in his saddle, unconscious. The weight of his sword had completed the slash.
Instantly Ardath was at the reins. He dragged the soldier down and sprang lightly into the saddle. He wheeled the mount. Reaching low over the side, he picked up Jansaiya and gently though swiftly put the limp figure across the saddle before him. The horse reared and charged down the street, scattering yelling priests before its thundering hoofs.
Never before had Ardath ridden a horse, nor even seen one of its kind. But eons ago, in the Miocene Age, he had studied the small, fleet Neohipparion. He instantly recognized the similarity between the modern and the prehistoric desert horse. Animals had never feared nor distrusted Ardath, for he understood them too well. The steed responded to the least touch of his hands and heels. Through the city it raced.
Three times Ardath had to use his sword, but only to disarm. It was not necessary to kill. Suddenly, then, the city was behind him, and he was racing up the slope toward the forest.
It was already late afternoon. The shadows lay long and dark on the sward. Ardath cast a glance behind him,
