The E. Hoffmann Price Fantasy & Science Fiction Read online

  Contents

  COPYRIGHT INFO

  A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER

  INTRODUCTION, by Shawn Garrett

  THE PROPHET’S GRANDCHILDREN

  THE INFIDEL’S DAUGHTER

  THE WORD OF BENTLEY

  DESERT MAGIC

  SANCTUARY

  THE WOMAN IN THE CASE

  APPRENTICE MAGICIAN

  STRANGE GATEWAY

  SPOTTED SATAN

  KHOSRU’S GARDEN

  SHADOW CAPTAIN

  THE HANDS OF JANOS

  THE FIRE AND THE FLESH

  THE SHADOW OF SATURN

  DRAGON’S DAUGHTER

  THE MIRROR OF KO HUNG

  EXILE FROM VENUS

  ESCAPE FROM HYPER-SPACE

  THE SEVEN SECURITIES

  WHEN IN DOUBT, MUTATE!

  The MEGAPACK® Ebook Series

  COPYRIGHT INFO

  The E. Hoffmann Price Fantasy & Science Fiction MEGAPACK® is copyright © 2017 by Wildside Press, LLC. All rights reserved.

  * * * *

  The MEGAPACK® ebook series name is a trademark of Wildside Press, LLC. All rights reserved.

  * * * *

  “Introduction,” by Shawn Garrett, is copyright © 2017 by Wildside Press LLC.

  “The Prophet’s Grandchildren” was originally published in Weird Tales, October 1925. Copyright © 1925, renewed 1953 by Weird Tales.

  “The Infidel’s Daughter” was originally published in Weird Tales, December 1927.

  “The Word of Bentley” was originally published Weird Tales, May 1933. Copyright © 1933, renewed 1961 by Blanchard Press, Inc.

  “Desert Magic” was originally published in Spicy Mystery Stories, February 1936.

  “The Woman in the Case” was originally published in Spicy Mystery Stories, January 1938.

  “Apprentice Magician” was originally published in Weird Tales, August 1939.

  “Strange Gateway” was originally published in Weird Tales, January 1940.

  “Khosru’s Garden” was originally published in Weird Tales, May 1940.

  “Shadow Captain” was originally published in Speed Mystery, July 1943.

  “The Hands of Janos” was originally published in Speed Mystery, March 1944.

  “The Fire and the Flesh” was originally published in Speed Mystery, March 1943.

  “The Shadow of Saturn” was originally published in Weird Tales, March 1950.

  “Dragon’s Daughter” was originally published in Witchcraft & Sorcery #6, May 1971. Copyright © 1971 by E. Hoffmann Price.

  “The Mirror of Ko Hung” was originally published in Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine, July 1980. Copyright © 1980 by E. Hoffmann Price.

  “Exile from Venus” was originally published in Planet Stories, May 1951.

  “Escape From Hyper-Space” was originally published in Thrilling Wonder Stories, December 1951. Copyright © 1951, renewed 1979 by C B S Publications.

  “The Seven Securities” was originally published in Science Fiction Quarterly, August 1952, under the pseudonym Hamlin Daly

  “When In Doubt, Mutate!” was originally published in Science Fiction Quarterly, May 1952.

  A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER

  E. Hoffmann Price (1898 – 1988) is probably most famous for his collaboration with H. P. Lovecraft, “Through the Gates of the Silver Key,” though he published hundreds of other works. This volume is a good sampling of his fantasy and science fiction stories.

  Please see the introduction by editor Shawn Garrett for more information on Price and his work.

  Enjoy!

  —John Betancourt

  Publisher, Wildside Press LLC

  www.wildsidepress.com

  ABOUT THE SERIES

  Over the last few years, our MEGAPACK® ebook series has grown to be our most popular endeavor. (Maybe it helps that we sometimes offer them as premiums to our mailing list!) One question we keep getting asked is, “Who’s the editor?”

  The MEGAPACK® ebook series (except where specifically credited) are a group effort. Everyone at Wildside works on them. This includes John Betancourt (me), Carla Coupe, Steve Coupe, Shawn Garrett, Helen McGee, Bonner Menking, Sam Cooper, Helen McGee and many of Wildside’s authors…who often suggest stories to include (and not just their own!)

  RECOMMEND A FAVORITE STORY?

  Do you know a great classic science fiction story, or have a favorite author whom you believe is perfect for the MEGAPACK® ebook series? We’d love your suggestions! You can post them on our message board at http://wildsidepress.forumotion.com/ (there is an area for Wildside Press comments).

  Note: we only consider stories that have already been professionally published. This is not a market for new works.

  TYPOS

  Unfortunately, as hard as we try, a few typos do slip through. We update our ebooks periodically, so make sure you have the current version (or download a fresh copy if it’s been sitting in your ebook reader for months.) It may have already been updated.

  If you spot a new typo, please let us know. We’ll fix it for everyone. You can email the publisher at [email protected] or use the message boards above.

  INTRODUCTION, by Shawn Garrett

  Welcome to The E. Hoffmann Price Fantasy & Science Fiction MEGAPACK®! Wildside Press, in association with Mr. Price’s heirs, are dedicated to making the extensive body of work of this pulpsmith extraordinaire accessible once again to the public through our line of MEGAPACK® collections.

  Edgar Hoffmann Price (July 3, 1898 – June 18, 1988) was born in Fowler, California. A graduate of West Point, he served in World War (followed by military duty in Mexico and the Philippines) and was a champion fencer and boxer—fellow pulp author Jack Williamson referred to him as “a real-life soldier of fortune.” Hoffmann was also something of a polymath—a Republican and a Buddhist, he was also an amateur Orientalist, and a student of the Arabic language.

  Price’s first fiction sale was in 1924 to Droll Stories magazine and over the years he befriended, corresponded with, and personally met many authors of the pulp era including Robert E. Howard, Clark Ashton Smith and H.P. Lovecraft. He wrote hundreds of stories for many pulp magazines (including Weird Tales) in varied genres like horror, detective, adventure, fantasy and science fiction. Wildside Press is proud to make his work available to readers again. Due to the inaccessibility of much of Price’s work (he kept no manuscript archive and so we must resort to those original publication copies we can track down) we have decided to package the material into themed MEGAPACK®s, highlighting specific genres he worked in. Later volumes will be released as we gather further material (any collectors interested in aiding our endeavors by supplying photocopies from their collections are urged to contact Wildside at our website: http://wildsidepress.com/).

  The E. Hoffmann Price Fantasy & Science Fiction MEGAPACK® contains fantasy tales (grouped at the beginning) and science fiction stories (at the end) covering a range of publication dates between 1927 to 1952 (excepting two later Chinese fantasy stories from 1971 and 1980, respectively). Many of Hoffman’s fantasy tales presented here are set in the Far East or Middle East, while most of his science-fiction would be better termed science-fantasy. Of specific note, we have included here “The Infidel’s Daughter”, an examples of a specific sub-set of stories Price composed involving the character Ismeddin—if you find it interesting, more can be found in the collection E. Hoffmann Price’s Fables of Ismeddi
n MEGAPACK®.

  We hope you enjoy these imaginative tales of far-off lands and times. Here is a list of other collections of Price’s work in the series (some already available, others out shortly):

  E. Hoffmann Price’s Two-Fisted Detective MEGAPACK®

  E. Hoffmann Price’s War And Western Action MEGAPACK®

  E. Hoffmann Price’s Exotic Adventures MEGAPACK®

  The 11th Golden Age of Weird Fiction MEGAPACK®: E. Hoffmann Price

  E. Hoffmann Price’s Fables of Ismeddin MEGAPACK®

  E. Hoffmann Price’s Pierre d’Artois: Occult Detective & Associates MEGAPACK®

  The E. Hoffmann Price Spicy-Adventure MEGAPACK®

  THE PROPHET’S GRANDCHILDREN

  Originally published in Weird Tales, October 1925.

  (This tale, current in Sulu, to the best of our knowledge has not heretofore found its way to the States. It presents the novel anachronism of Christ’s and Mahomet’s being contemporaries and rivals. “Since this story is a simple folk tale, and not at all my original conception,” writes the author, “I present it to you ungarnished and unadorned, as close to the original as I can recollect.”)

  Sulu, or Jolo, as it is often called, is a tiny hotbed of Moslem fanaticism just across the straits from Borneo, in the Philippines; it is a small, blood-soaked island inhabited by followers of the Prophet, fierce Moros who with kris and kampilan carve their way to eternal glory through the ranks of the unbeliever. The road to Paradise, they say, is paved with the heads of the infidel; and whoever dies slaying Christians is assured of a seat at the Prophet’s right hand.

  Like all devout Moslems, the Moros will not eat pork, nor any food contaminated with the fat of a pig. To account for this aversion, common to all Islam, they tell a strange tale, fantastic in its anachronism, and naive in its quaint conceits. And it is this tale which I shall relate, as nearly as possible, in the words of him who told it to me one night as we sailed up the China Sea, beneath star-dusted, blue-black Asian skies.

  There are two Christs who reign and hold sway over the world: Isa the Nazarene, the White Christ, whose mother the infidels adore, and Mahomet, the Black Christ whom the dark men of Islam revere as the prophet of Allah, the one true God. Both of these prophets have long since passed from the earth; but in the old days they were great rivals, and hated each other with exceeding bitterness.

  The world was divided into two parts, one of which was allotted to Isa the Nazarene, the other to Mahomet, upon whom be peace and prayer! But at times each would encroach upon the territory of the other; and each sought to discredit the other, and to cause dissension among his rival’s followers. Neither prophet neglected an opportunity to cast ridicule upon the other, for their enmity was fierce beyond description.

  Now it so happened that Mahomet decreed a great feast for all of his followers, who came from far and wide to attend the festivities. And then there came to Mahomet an inspiration, the brilliant idea of inviting his rival, Isa the Nazarene, to attend the banquet, so that all true believers could see what manner of man was this false prophet who preached against the true prophet of Allah.

  This White Christ of the infidel, being a cunning and subtle man, knew well that he was invited to his rival’s banquet, not to be honored, but rather to be ridiculed before the followers of Mahomet; yet he nevertheless accepted the invitation, and on the day of the banquet made his appearance. All courtesy was shown him; but at the height of the festivity, Mahomet revealed himself and his intentions.

  “Nazarene,” he began, “it is said that in your own land you are a prophet. Tell me, is that true? And is it true that you have performed miracles ?”

  At these words a hush fell over the riotous assembly, for each reveler knew that the Nazarene was to be ridiculed and confounded.

  “You are right,” replied Isa; “I am indeed a prophet, and the son of the one true God; and it is also true that I have performed miracles.”

  “So you say. But what have we to confirm your claim? If indeed you are what you profess to be, assert yourself and perform some miracle for us, so that we may believe,” challenged Mahomet.

  “That I will not do,” retorted the White Christ. “It is not permitted to work wonders for vain display.”

  “Just as I thought,” sneered Mahomet, “you are an impostor who dares not risk a trial. Doubtless you are some pretender, and not the Nazarene you claim to be. Come now, and prove to my guests that you are no idle boaster.”

  “For the glory of God, I have worked miracles, and in His name I can work them; but not for display, nor out of vanity.”

  And thus they disputed, Mahomet calling for some wonder, some sign of the Nazarene’s power, and Isa steadfastly refusing each demand.

  “Well, then,” persisted Mahomet, “since you will give us no miracle, exhibit the lesser gift of prophecy.”

  But the Nazarene likewise refused, saying that he would not abuse his power by prophesying for the amusement of the crowd. And Mahomet taunted him, calling him an impostor, urging him to reveal himself by some sign or wonder.

  “Since you insist, well and good!” exclaimed Isa, quite out of patience; “I will submit to a test. But I warn you that you will regret it to your last day. You have forced my hand; so beware, and do not blame me if the result is not at all to your taste.”

  “Nazarene, you can not frighten me, nor seek to evade the issue. I will abide by the result, whatever it may be.”

  “Very well; and what will you have me do to prove my worth?”

  “My wishes are simple. I shall but ask you to look at that door at the farther end of this hall, and then to prophesy unto us what is concealed in the room behind it.”

  And Mahomet laughed triumphantly, for in anticipation of the test he had secretly placed his two grandchildren in the room whose door opened into the banquet hall, and had sealed the door, so that none other than himself could possibly know of their presence.

  “You wish me to prophesy? And you still disregard my warning?”

  “Even so. Speak!” commanded Mahomet, impatiently, exultantly.

  And at these words the White Christ declared himself: “Hear then this prophecy! When you open that door, you will release two beasts the like of which there are none in the entire world.”

  Mahomet, who knew well what the room contained, laughed again, and commanded that the door be opened. But to his dismay and great astonishment, there came forth from the room, not his grandchildren, but two strange, uncouth beasts: for the Nazarene had in his resentment at the Prophet’s persistence transformed the children into pigs, creatures that had never before existed. And thus it is that no Moslem, even to this day, will eat pork.

  THE INFIDEL’S DAUGHTER

  Originally published in Weird Tales, December 1927.

  CHAPTER 1

  Landon’s pavilion was pitched on a crest that rose high above the broad plain of Babîl. About the foot of the mound his men were encamped: some quarreling, smoking, gambling, diverting themselves after the day’s march; others walking their posts in the darkness beyond the guard-fires. Landon himself awaited the arrival of the chief of his caravan, Haaj Ismeddin, the ex-darvish.

  “Es salaam aleika, saidi,” greeted the old man as he entered the pavilion.

  “And with you, exceeding peace, Haaji,” returned Landon. “Where are we tonight?” he questioned as the old man seated himself on the rug at the master’s feet.

  “We are on the plains of Babîl,” intoned the old man sonorously, beginning his recital which only in its details varied from that of the day before, and the many days previous to that one. “Just before us is Mosul, and far behind us is Balkh; to our right is the Tigris, and close at hand is the mound of Koyunjik, under which is buried a lost city of the infidels who once ruled this land.”

  “Where have we been, Haaji?”

  “We have been in all th
e lands of the earth, saidi,” replied the pilgrim. “We have heard the tinkling sitar in Herat of the Hundred Gardens, and heard the splash of their fountains; we have seen the star of evening flame high above the uncounted domes and pinnacles of prodigious Atlânaat; we have seen the incredible bulk of Angkor towering above the jungles of Siam; within the red walls of holy Marrakesh we have been the friends of princes, and in Khotan the khan esteems us.”

  “And what do we seek?”

  “Who knows what we seek, saidi? In the tombs of the Kings of Pegu we found cool, unblinking sapphires, and great rubies that smoldered like the embers of a plundered city; and in far-off Java, in mysterious Borabador we found gold that ancient smiths had tormented into odd shapes for the pleasure of forgotten princes. Lost and obscure lands have disgorged treasures to us, who knew not what we sought, and cared not for what we found.”

  “And where are we going, Haaji?”

  “Where the will of Allah leads us, in search of we know not what. And who am I to know more?” concluded the old man with finality, as one coming to the end of a lesson well recited.

  “In search of I know not what, to be found I know not where,” murmured Landon to himself.

  “Saidi,” began the pilgrim, “there is something which you seek. Can you not trust your servant? Have I not served you well?”

  “Well and faithfully, Ismeddin,” replied Landon. “What do I seek? What does anyone seek who wanders over the earth?”

  “But you have nothing to seek, master. You are wealthy beyond reckoning; you have seen war and adventure; in Herat you have a palace and the daughter of an emir; and the princes of Asia are your friends, from holy Marrakesh to Turkestan. Tell me, saidi,” persisted the old man.

  “Very well then, Ismeddin! I am on the trail of a phantom. A vision, a legend, an apparition whose traces I have found everywhere, whose presence I have found nowhere. And what I have in Herat of the Hundred Gardens is not enough for me. To say more would be madness. Now bring me my journal, Haaji, and then inspect the sentries. Remember, a hundred lashes for any who sleep on post tonight.”