Free The Reign of Wizardry by Jack Williamson Page A

moment, however, the man was on his feet, gripping his saber and mouthing soldierly curses.
    Theseus released the unsaddled horse, and crouched to meet the Etruscan. But steel had not touched bronze, when a woman’s voice, clear and full as a golden bugle, pealed to them:
    “Hold! Who halts my guard?”
    Theseussaw that a rich palanquin, carried by four sturdy, panting slaves, had come up behind the disarmed horseman.
    The white curtains were drawn open, and its occupant was sitting up on her couch, to look out.
    Ariadne!
    Ariadne of the white doves, sorceress of the serpent! The woman in the palanquin, Theseus knew, could be no other. Daughter of Minos, and divine vessel of the All-Mother, Cybele.
    “Who dares halt Ariadne?”
    Her proud voice was a golden melody. It touched an eager chord in the heart of Theseus, and he stood with wide eyes drinking in her loveliness.
    Her skin was white, white as the dove on her smooth, bare shoulder. Her full lips were red as hot blood, her eyes green and cold as ice. And the hair that foamed about her shoulders was a flaming splendor.
    Her hair was red,redder than the locks of Captain Firebrand had been. Soft lights rippled and flowed in the thick wavy masses of it. It was a cascade of shining glory, falling over her long, white body.
    Theseus struggled for breath. He had sworn to win Ariadne, as a trophy of victory in the games. Now he made a hot renewal of the oath. He saw that she was worth all the storied wealth of Knossos, that her beautywas a power vast as the wizardry of Crete.
    Briefly, Theseus wondered if she were as old as the woman of the street had said, and he saw a confirming shadow of wisdom and weariness in her cold, green eyes. And he thought that none but a goddess could ever have been so beautiful.
    A gasping curse brought him back to himself, and he found the unhorsed Etruscan close upon him. He crouched, and theFalling Star flashed out to parry the long bronze saber.
    “Stop!” Ariadne’s golden voice pealed out again. “Let him speak.” The cool, green eyes surveyed Theseus haughtily. “The savage is clever with his blade. Ask him his name, and what he seeks in Crete.”
    “I have ears.” Theseus rang his steel defiantly against the saber. “Tell her that I am Gothung, a wanderer from the north. Tell her thatI came to Crete to hire my sword to Minos. But say that, having seen the people of Crete, I would fight for them instead.”
    Her splendid head tossed angrily, and she shouted:
    “Call another detachment, and take the insolent Northman!”
    Nursing bleeding fingers, the mounted man spurred his horse down the street. The one on foot came at Theseus, with bronze saber upflung. But the steel blade turnedthe stroke, a swift slash opened his arm to tendon and bone, and the saber dropped in the mud.
    Theseus leaped forward, menaced the palanquin slaves.
    “Set down the litter,” he commanded.
    At the point of red-dripping steel, they obeyed. Theseus ripped aside the white linen curtains, and looked in upon Ariadne. Clad in a flounced green gown, her long white body sprawled lazily on the cushions.Her cool green eyes met the hot eyes of Theseus, without hint of fear.
    “When my rider comes back with aid, Northman,” she said softly, “you will regret your insolence to a goddess.”
    “Meantime, I am the master.” The flat voice of Theseus was equally soft. “And the All-Mother should display compassion. Get out.” His red sword gestured. “Pick the dead child up out of the gutter.”
    She lay still,and the green eyes turned frosty.
    “No man would dare!” she whispered.
    The palanquin slaves gasped mutely as Theseus shifted the sword, and reached his red-dripping hand through the curtains. Her white arm went angrily tense under his fingers, but he dragged her out into the muddy street.
    “Northman!” Her quivering words were almost soundless. “For this, you shall feed the Dark One!”
    “Perhaps,”said Theseus. “But pick up the