In the Moons of Borea Read Free

of special relevance to him regarding the CCD.]
    'Lord Sil-ber-hut-te! Hank! Wake up, Lord!' Kota'na's urgency, emphasized by his use of the Warlord's first name, brought Hank Silberhutte to his feet within his central tent. A moment later he stepped out into the open, shaking sleep from his mind, gazing skyward and following Kota'na's pointing finger. All eyes in the camp were turned to the sky, where something moved across the heavens with measured pace to fall down behind the horizon of forest treetops.
    The Warlord had almost missed the thing, had witnessed its flight for two or three seconds only; but in that short time his heart, which he believed had almost stopped in the suspense of the moment, had started to beat again, and the short hairs at the back of his neck had lain down flat once more. Borea was no world in which to be out in the open when there were strange dark things at large in the sky!
    But no, the aerial phenomenon had not been Ithaqua, not the Wind-Walker. If it were, then without a doubt Silberhutte's party had been doomed. It had certainly been a strange and alien thing, yes, and one that ought surely not to fly in any world. But it had not been the Lord of the Snows.
    `A clock Silberhutte gasped. 'A great-grandfather clock! Now what in the — ' And his voice suddenly tapered off as memory brought back to him snatches of a conversation which had taken place (how many years ago?) in the home of a London-based colleague during the Wilmarth Foundation's war on the CCD, the 'Cthulhu Cycle Deities,' in Great Britain. At that time Silberhutte had not long been a member of the foundation, but his singular telepathic talent had long since appraised him of the presence of the CCD.
    Titus Crow had been a prime British mover in that phase of the secret confrontation, and at the home of the learned leonine occultist Silberhutte had been shown just such a clock as had recently disappeared over the treetops. A weirdly hieroglyphed, oddly ticking monstrosity whose four hands had moved in sequences utterly removed from horological systems of Earthly origin. By far the most striking thing about that clock had been its shape — like a coffin a foot taller than a tall man — that and the fact that there seemed to be no access to the thing's innards, no way into its working parts. It was then that Titus Crow had told Silberhutte:
    'I'm taking a chance that you'll perhaps think me a madman, my friend certainly it will be a test of your credulity — but in any case. I'll tell you what I think the clock really is. It is a gateway on all space and time, a vessel capable of journeying to the very corners of existence and beyond. That's my belief. One day learn all there is to know about the thing. When I do . . .' And Crow had paused to shrug and smile, adding: 'But that is all in the future. At the moment . I may rightly compare myself to an ape attempting to fathom the splitting of the atom!'
    Yes; Crow had called the clock a gateway on all space and time, a bridge between worlds — between universes!
    Silberhutte stared out across the forest roof where the clock had disappeared, and suddenly he was taut as a bowstring, incredible hope springing up in him, flaring bright where he had believed hope to have all but faded away. Could that thing in the sky — that coffin-shape so briefly glimpsed — could it possibly . . . ?
    `What is it Lord?' Kota'na asked, his voice low, hushed. The Keeper of the Bears was worried. He had never seen the Warlord stirred by such emotions before. Silberhutte's gaze burned - like a great hound straining at the leash, he seemed to lean toward the forest - and his fists had tightened into huge knots which he held half-raised before him.
    Again Kota'na spoke: Was it some terrible toy of the Wind-Walker, Lord?'
    `No, I don't think so.' And the great white Warlord suddenly relaxed, took a deep breath, turned to grasp Kota'na's shoulders. 'Bear-brother, I want you to come with me, you and two