The Reign of Wizardry Read Free

helpless with oars shipped, crashed together. Before their slaves, screaming to the whips, could thrust them apart, thepirate drove with flashing oars against the side of the nearest. The bronze ram ripped through the planking, below the waterline.
    The Cretan archers loosed a storm of arrows. Slung stones hummed, burning sulfur made a suffocating reek. A gang of Cretan marines flung grapnel hooks, then crouched waiting with their nets and tridents to swarm aboard.
    But their roof of shields protected the pirateson the narrow bow. Axes severed the grapnel lines, and straining slaves backed the galley.
    The bronze beak retreated, and water poured into the Cretan galley. It listed sluggishly, a wave poured over the heavy prow, and it went down with chained slaves shrieking at the oars. Armor-laden men struggled briefly in the foaming sea.
    The other Cretan, meantime, had dipped her oars again. Before thepirate could move forward once more, the two long galleys veered together. Theseus shouted an order for the slaves on the exposed side to draw in their oars.
    The hulls crashed. Grapnels caught and ropes whipped tight. Bows twanged and slung stones drummed on shields. Smoke of sulfur and cordage and human flesh made a choking stench.
    “Board them!” shouted Theseus. “Sixty shekels of silver tothe first man over the rail!”
    “Aye, Captain Firebrand!”
    Cyron, the dark-bearded Dorian, clutching sword and shield, leaped to the low rail of the pirate. For an instant he stood there, his voice lifted in a battle cry. Then abruptly the cry was cut short. He stood petrified.
    Upon the lofty after cabin of the Cretan, there had suddenly appeared a swarthy Minoan priest, wrapped in a long blacksacerdotal robe. Above the uproar of the battle, his voice lifted in a wailing chant.
    At first he used the secret priestly tongue, while his thin hands lifted a silver vessel that was shaped like a bull’s head, and poured its foaming red contents into the sea. Then he changed to the common Cretan language, that Theseus had learned long ago from the traders who came to Athens.
    “O great Minos,”he wailed, “whose years are twenty generations, who is god of all the world! O great Cybele, mother of Earth and Minos and Men, whose dwelling is the most beauteous Ariadne! O great Dark One, whose name may not be uttered, who art bull and man and god! O great gods of Knossos, destroy these vermin who molest your faithful slaves!
    “Bright sword of Minos, strike!”
    The black priest held high thered-dripping vessel. And down from the silver horns leaped a blade of blue fire. Thunder crashed deafeningly. And Cyron, sword and shield slipping from his limp hands, dropped loose-limbed back to the pirate’s deck.

T WO

    T HE WHOLE battle had halted, to await the climax of the black priest’s invocation. That strange bolt broke a breathless hush, and then Theseus heard the triumphant shout of the Cretans. He heard the groan of anguish and terror that ran among the pirates, saw them falter before the swift massing of the Cretan marines. He caught his breath, and lifted the bright steel sword.
    “Follow me!” heshouted. “Follow the Falling Star—and stop the cowardly wizardry of Minos!”
    He flung aside his heavy 8-shaped shield, too heavy for swift action. Bronze body stripped to the loins, he raced across the narrow deck. A hissing arrow brushed his hair, and a stone stung his arm. The bright sword deflected another arrow, and he leaped from the deck.
    His feet spurned the rail. He leaped again fromthe roof of shields that covered a squad of crouching lancers, and stood upon the high cabin’s roof. His naked sword menaced the black Minoan priest, and his voice pealed out: “Where now is the magic of Minos?”
    He watched savage elation turn to terror in the smoky eyes of the priest. He saw the dark flash of cunning in them, andglimpsed thin hands pressing quickly on the eyes of the bull’s headvessel.
    His sword flashed. He heard a