Brood of the Witch-Queen

Sax Rohmer

Description

Although best known as the creator of the Fu-Manchu series of mystery novels, British author Arthur Henry Sarsfield Ward (who usually wrote under the pseudonym Sax Rohmer) also penned a number of science fiction, fantasy, and supernatural novels. Long himself associated with the occult, Rohmer brings captivating depth and detail to his story of a dabbler in the supernatural whose dark interests spin out of control -- with tragic results.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 avril 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775452324
• Langue: English

Extrait

BROOD OF THE WITCH-QUEEN
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SAX ROHMER
 
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Brood of the Witch-Queen First published in 1918 ISBN 978-1-775452-32-4 © 2011 The Floating Press While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Prefatory Notice Chapter I - Antony Ferrara Chapter II - The Phantom Hands Chapter III - The Ring of Thoth Chapter IV - At Ferrara's Chambers Chapter V - The Rustling Shadows Chapter VI - The Beetles Chapter VII - Sir Elwin Groves' Patient Chapter VIII - The Secret of Dhoon Chapter IX - The Polish Jewess Chapter X - The Laughter Chapter XI - Cairo Chapter XII - The Mask of Set Chapter XIII - The Scorpion Wind Chapter XIV - Dr. Cairn Arrives Chapter XV - The Witch-Queen Chapter XVI - Lair of the Spiders Chapter XVII - The Story of Ali Mohammed Chapter XVIII - The Bats Chapter XIX - Anthropomancy Chapter XX - The Incense Chapter XXI - The Magician Chapter XXII - Myra Chapter XXIII - The Face in the Orchid-House Chapter XXIV - Flowering of the Lotus Chapter XXV - Cairn Meets Ferrara Chapter XXVI - The Ivory Hand Chapter XXVII - The Thug's Cord Chapter XXVIII - The High Priest, Hortotef Chapter XXIX - The Wizard's Den Chapter XXX - The Elemental Chapter XXXI - The Book of Thoth Endnotes
Prefatory Notice
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The strange deeds of Antony Ferrara, as herein related, are intendedto illustrate certain phases of Sorcery as it was formerly practised(according to numerous records) not only in Ancient Egypt but also inEurope, during the Middle Ages. In no case do the powers attributed tohim exceed those which are claimed for a fully equipped Adept.
S. R.
Chapter I - Antony Ferrara
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Robert Cairn looked out across the quadrangle. The moon had justarisen, and it softened the beauty of the old college buildings,mellowed the harshness of time, casting shadow pools beneath thecloisteresque arches to the west and setting out the ivy in strongerrelief upon the ancient walls. The barred shadow on the lichenedstones beyond the elm was cast by the hidden gate; and straight ahead,where, between a quaint chimney-stack and a bartizan, a triangularpatch of blue showed like spangled velvet, lay the Thames. It was fromthere the cooling breeze came.
But Cairn's gaze was set upon a window almost directly ahead, and westbelow the chimneys. Within the room to which it belonged a lambentlight played.
Cairn turned to his companion, a ruddy and athletic looking man,somewhat bovine in type, who at the moment was busily tracing outsections on a human skull and checking his calculations from Ross's Diseases of the Nervous System .
"Sime," he said, "what does Ferrara always have a fire in his roomsfor at this time of the year?"
Sime glanced up irritably at the speaker. Cairn was a tall, thinScotsman, clean-shaven, square jawed, and with the crisp light hairand grey eyes which often bespeak unusual virility.
"Aren't you going to do any work?" he inquired pathetically. "Ithought you'd come to give me a hand with my basal ganglia . I shallgo down on that; and there you've been stuck staring out of thewindow!"
"Wilson, in the end house, has got a most unusual brain," said Cairn,with apparent irrelevance.
"Has he!" snapped Sime.
"Yes, in a bottle. His governor is at Bart's; he sent it up yesterday.You ought to see it."
"Nobody will ever want to put your brain in a bottle," predicted thescowling Sime, and resumed his studies.
Cairn relighted his pipe, staring across the quadrangle again. Then—
"You've never been in Ferrara's rooms, have you?" he inquired.
Followed a muffled curse, crash, and the skull went rolling across thefloor.
"Look here, Cairn," cried Sime, "I've only got a week or so now, andmy nervous system is frantically rocky; I shall go all to pieces on mynervous system. If you want to talk, go ahead. When you're finished, Ican begin work."
"Right-oh," said Cairn calmly, and tossed his pouch across. "I want totalk to you about Ferrara."
"Go ahead then. What is the matter with Ferrara?"
"Well," replied Cairn, "he's queer."
"That's no news," said Sime, filling his pipe; "we all know he's aqueer chap. But he's popular with women. He'd make a fortune as anerve specialist."
"He doesn't have to; he inherits a fortune when Sir Michael dies."
"There's a pretty cousin, too, isn't there?" inquired Sime slyly.
"There is," replied Cairn. "Of course," he continued, "my governor andSir Michael are bosom friends, and although I've never seen much ofyoung Ferrara, at the same time I've got nothing against him. But—"he hesitated.
"Spit it out," urged Sime, watching him oddly.
"Well, it's silly, I suppose, but what does he want with a fire on ablazing night like this?"
Sime stared.
"Perhaps he's a throw-back," he suggested lightly. "The Ferraras,although they're counted Scotch—aren't they?—must have been Italianoriginally—"
"Spanish," corrected Cairn. "They date from the son of Andrea Ferrara,the sword-maker, who was a Spaniard. Cæsar Ferrara came with theArmada in 1588 as armourer. His ship was wrecked up in the Bay ofTobermory and he got ashore—and stopped."
"Married a Scotch lassie?"
"Exactly. But the genealogy of the family doesn't account for Antony'shabits."
"What habits?"
"Well, look." Cairn waved in the direction of the open window. "Whatdoes he do in the dark all night, with a fire going?"
"Influenza?"
"Nonsense! You've never been in his rooms, have you?"
"No. Very few men have. But as I said before, he's popular with thewomen."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean there have been complaints. Any other man would have been sentdown."
"You think he has influence—"
"Influence of some sort, undoubtedly."
"Well, I can see you have serious doubts about the man, as I havemyself, so I can unburden my mind. You recall that sudden thunderstormon Thursday?"
"Rather; quite upset me for work."
"I was out in it. I was lying in a punt in the backwater—you know, our backwater."
"Lazy dog."
"To tell you the truth, I was trying to make up my mind whether Ishould abandon bones and take the post on the Planet which has beenoffered me."
"Pills for the pen—Harley for Fleet? Did you decide?"
"Not then; something happened which quite changed my line ofreflection."
The room was becoming cloudy with tobacco smoke.
"It was delightfully still," Cairn resumed. "A water rat rose withina foot of me and a kingfisher was busy on a twig almost at my elbow.Twilight was just creeping along, and I could hear nothing but faintcreakings of sculls from the river and sometimes the drip of apunt-pole. I thought the river seemed to become suddenly deserted; itgrew quite abnormally quiet—and abnormally dark. But I was so deep inreflection that it never occurred to me to move.
"Then the flotilla of swans came round the bend, with Apollo—you knowApollo, the king-swan?—at their head. By this time it had growntremendously dark, but it never occurred to me to ask myself why. Theswans, gliding along so noiselessly, might have been phantoms. A hush,a perfect hush, settled down. Sime, that hush was the prelude to astrange thing—an unholy thing!"
Cairn rose excitedly and strode across to the table, kicking the skullout of his way.
"It was the storm gathering," snapped Sime.
"It was something else gathering! Listen! It got yet darker, but forsome inexplicable reason, although I must have heard the thundermuttering, I couldn't take my eyes off the swans. Then ithappened—the thing I came here to tell you about; I must tellsomebody—the thing that I am not going to forget in a hurry."
He began to knock out the ash from his pipe.
"Go on," directed Sime tersely.
"The big swan—Apollo—was within ten feet of me; he swam in openwater, clear of the others; no living thing touched him. Suddenly,uttering a cry that chilled my very blood, a cry that I never heardfrom a swan in my life, he rose in the air, his huge wingsextended—like a tortured phantom, Sime; I can never forget it—sixfeet clear of the water. The uncanny wail became a stifled hiss, andsending up a perfect fountain of water—I was deluged—the poor oldking-swan fell, beat the surface with his wings—and was still."
"Well?"
"The other swans glided off like ghosts. Several heavy raindropspattered on the leaves above. I admit I was scared. Apollo lay withone wing right in the punt. I was standing up; I had jumped to my feetwhen the thing occurred. I stooped and touched the wing. The bird wasquite dead! Sime, I pulled the swan's head out of the water, and—hisneck was broken; no fewer than three vertebrae fractured!"
A cloud of tobacco smoke was wafted towards the open window.
"It isn't one in a million who could wring the neck of a bird likeApollo, Sime; but it was done before my eyes without the visibleagency of God or man! As I dropped him and took to the pole, the stormburst. A clap of thunder spoke with the voice of a thousand cannon,and I poled for bare life from that haunted backwater. I was drenchedto the skin when I got in, and I ran up all the way from the stage."
"Well?" rapped the other again, as Cairn paused to refill his pipe.
"It was seeing the firelight flickering at Ferrara's window that ledme to do it. I don't often call on him; but I thought that a rub downbefore the fire and a glass of toddy would put me right. The storm hadabated as I got to the foot of his stair—only a distant rolling ofthunder.
"Then, out of the shadows—it was quite dark—into the flickeringlight of the lamp came somebody all muffled up. I started horribly. Itwas a girl, quite a pretty girl, too, but very pale, and