A gigantic creature, half ape, hairy and hideous, nurtured in the caverns and gorges of the dark mountains, came toward him from behind, crouching low behind the others, crawling between their legs, his lips drawn back from his grinning fangs, snarling in his throat, gripping in one hand a flint with a jagged edge. The flint had been soaked in the venom of crushed serpents. Asgar, realizing the opportunity, roused those in front to a fiercer attack, so that the prince’s attention might be diverted from the true point of danger. He tossed his thick arms frantically, and his gross body shook as he shrieked out his orders. Torpeon caught sight of him over the heads of the nearer fighters; he lifted his staff and pointed it at him. The invisible bolt flew to its mark. With a screech of rage and agony, Asgar sprang in the air and fell dead, the top of his skull blown off and his brains spattering the heads and faces of those behind him.
“Good old Asgar!” said Torpeon, chuckling in his beard. “Who next?”
But, an instant after, there rose from the crowd such a yell of horrible triumph and bloodthirsty frenzy as made the previous uproar seem tame by comparison.
The man-ape, seizing his chance, burst through the foremost ranks of those who hemmed the prince in from the rear, and made his spring. He alighted on Torpeon’s back, his short legs gripping him round the body, while his left arm, powerful as a bar of iron, encircled his throat, and with his right hand, armed with the poisoned flint, he strove to dash death into his face. Torpeon, overbalanced by the immense weight of the grisly creature, and half throttled by the squeeze of the hairy arm, staggered back and nearly fell, striving all the while to bring to bear the truncheon; but his antagonist warded it off with his upthrown shoulder; and now a headlong rush by those in front threw the prince off his feet, and he would have fallen had he not been held up by a simultaneous rush by those behind. By a titanic effort of strength he wrenched himself free from the strangler, and, twisting about, laid him dead with his staff; but not before the other, with a final blow of his armed fist, had succeeded in wounding him on the forehead with his envenomed stone.
At that juncture the gates of the castle were thrown open, and Miriam appeared on the threshold. Those who first caught sight of her uttered shrill cries of amazement and alarm, which turned the attention of others from their enemy; and in a moment the whole mob was facing toward her. None of them had ever seen her before, nor any creature resembling her; and the unknown terrified them. Her beauty and dignity struck them as a menace. She could have come for no other reason than to succor Torpeon, and therefore to attack them. They hesitated, wavering back and forth, not knowing with what powers she might be armed, or in what form the new assault would be made. But the masses in the rear, heartened by their advantage over the prince, forced forward those in front, and the space between her and them grew narrower. Miriam, on her side, after casting a comprehensive glance over the tumult, stepped out from the gateway and advanced straight toward the storm-tossed multitude. She seemed alone, for the companion who walked at her side was invisible to their eyes.
Torpeon, meanwhile, had gained a respite; but he was aware of his wound and of the deadly peril it involved. Already he felt the first chill of the poison congealing the current of his blood. For the time being, however, by the use of the charm against such dangers which he possessed, he was able to ward off the effects in some measure; but what aided yet more to restore him was the apparition at such a moment of Miriam.
It kindled a wild fire in him; for he could interpret her presence only as designed to aid him or to share his fate. She loved him, then! At that thought so fierce a tempest of emotions burst out in his heart that he shivered like a tower in earthquake; all else was lost, but she was won, and of what value beside that was any other victory or defeat! He threw himself toward her, slipping in blood, stumbling over corpses; if he could but gain the castle with her, and force his way to that guarded crypt below where was hidden the engine prepared against the last emergency, lurking there like a monstrous jinnee, biding its time to defy God and nature, he could wrench asunder the invisible cables that bound his globe to a hated obedience, and soar with her untrammeled into cosmic freedom. There would be leisure, then, to heal him of his wound; or, if death must come, it would find him in her arms. His brain began to reel; moments of blankness drifted across his mind; but he staggered onward.
To Jack the spirits of the slain were more conspicuous than were the still incarnate, and he perceived that they swarmed round the prince, bewildering his brain, urging him to insane thoughts, causing him to step amiss, and distracting his attention from the assaults of the mob. They constituted a peril more immediate than from the latter. He saw, too, that he could himself exercise more control over these dead than over the living. They saw and feared him, whereas the others divided their menace between Torpeon and Miriam.
The spirit of the hairy monster, reeking from his own corpse, and incomparably more hideous and infuriated than before, was especially active against his slayer. At this instant, seconded by the rampant specter of Asgar, he swerved Torpeon from his course, so that he tripped over Asgar’s body and fell headlong. The shock of the fall caused the truncheon to fly from his hand and left him defenseless. The mob made a rush for him.
No wrath or hatred against any living creature dwelt in Jack’s soul; his insight had now become too penetrating and comprehensive for that. He had no desire but to save the prince. With a gesture he drove back the murderous ghosts from their prey, but he could influence only indirectly the savage hosts of the earth-bound; and that would not suffice!