Nirvana of the Seven Voodoos by John Peter Drummond

Book Details

Nirvana of the Seven Voodoos – Helene is kidnapped by savage man-apes and Ki-Gor must follow them into a forbidden land to rescue her from a man who would turn her into a drug addicted slave.

On a journey to introduce Ki-Gor to the wonders of modern Western civilization, Helene is kidnapped and taken deep into a mountain range from where no one returns.

Nirvana Of The Seven Voodoos (1949)
No broken, haunted captive lived to flee the jackal-born terrors of Nirvana —where Krishna, the strange, gleaming-eyed scientist, ruled with the dread hand of ancient gris-gris. And yet Ki-Gor dared enter that forbidden kraal, dared try to wrest Helene from its secret power—and even dared challenge the proud, half-human ape-men to one last, hopeless battle…

The Ki-Gor series ran quarterly for 16 years in Jungle Stories from the Winter 1938 issue to the Spring 1954 issue. The Ki-Gor stories were originally written by John Murray Reynolds but after the second year they were assigned to the house name “John Peter Drummond.” Reynolds continued to write stories and was joined by Dan Cushman, Robert Turner, Wilbur S. Peacock, and James McKimmey.

While Ki-Gor is an obvious imitation of the better known Tarzan, these stories are terrific adventure tales in their own right. The blond-haired jungle lord and his friends, Masai chief Tembu George and pygmy chief N’Geeso, as well as his flame-haired wife Helene, risk life and limb for each other on numerous occasions, battling ferocious animals and evil men.

Nirvana Of The Seven Voodoos is a five chapter novella and contains 2 illustrations.

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Excerpt: Nirvana of the Seven Voodoos

I

INCH BY INCH, THE GIANT figure in the leopard skin crept forward through the waving prairie grass. The fierce tropical sun beat down mercilessly on the mighty shoulders, but a fresh easterly breeze cooled the bronze forehead. Ki-Gor froze momentarily and hugged the ground, as a chorus of snorts and the thud of many sharp hoofs stamping the turf told him that the quarry he was stalking was getting uneasy. Ki-Gor cursed the inadequate little spear beside him, his sole weapon. It was a small, flimsy assegai the Pygmies had given him, and it was all but useless in the important business of hunting game. Not heavy enough to throw, not strong enough to kill anything bigger than a jackal.

But, weapon or not, game had to be killed today. Ki-Gor was hungry. His nostrils twitched and his mouth watered as the breeze bore to him the scent of his prey, the herd of white-throated gnu—wildebeeste—the giant antelope of the East African plateau. With infinite caution he raised his head and peered through the swaying grass tops. Fifteen feet away, a young, full-grown buck stared suspiciously upwind toward the rest of the herd. He was nearly five feet tall at his thick shoulders, and the coarse, matted hairs of his mane fell over but did not conceal the cruel horns that dipped downward from his forehead, then upward and outward.

It was going to be no easy task to subdue this creature barehanded, but Ki-Gor was desperate. He and Helene had not eaten meat for over a week, ever since they had left the friendly back of Marmo, the elephant, at the edge of the Congo jungle to trek on foot, ever eastward through the grassy uplands of East Africa. There had been game in plenty, but Ki-Gor had been remarkably unlucky in his hunting. Five times he had patiently stalked plump gazelles, only to be cheated out of his prey at the last minute by roving packs of wild dogs. On two other occasions, he had lain hidden, after dark, beside water-holes, hoping to make a kill undisturbed by the dogs who would be asleep. But each of those times he had found himself dangerously close to a half dozen lions, who apparently had the same idea. That many lions was too much competition, and Ki-Gor had gone back to Helene empty-handed, and with a very empty stomach.

Hardly breathing, Ki-Gor slid forward another six inches through the grass. He must get that buck. For if he and Helene did not eat pretty soon, they would be so weakened from fasting, that they, too, would fall prey to some prowling carnivores, and their bones would bleach on the wind-swept veldt. Closer and closer to the gnu, the jungle man crept. If only I had a fire-stick, Ki-Gor thought—rifles, Helene calls them. They have a potent magic which kills at incredible distances. But he had no rifle, only the toy spear of the Pygmies, so that he must be close enough to the gnu to be able to reach it in one spring. Once the herd discovered him, even his powerful legs could never overtake them.

Closer and closer, Ki-Gor crept, muscles tensed for action. Suddenly, the herd upwind of him grew ominously silent. Something had disturbed the gnus. Was it he? Had they discovered him? Again, he raised his head to peer through the grass stalks. No, it wasn’t he the antelopes were worried about. They were all facing away from him, muzzles raised, testing the air. A few does danced about nervously, ready at any second to break into a headlong gallop. Ki-Gor decided it was now or never.

Gathering his feet under him, he crouched on his haunches for one precious moment. Then, noiselessly, he sprang. As he did, the entire herd jumped forward. Ki-Gor’s leap carried just short of the young buck’s back—and the buck was going away. Desperately, Ki-Gor clutched at a flying hind hoof, and held on for dear life. The buck went down with a crash. Instantly Ki-Gor leaped for its head and seized a horn with each hand. The buck lunged upward, sharp hoofs scrambling. The horns were levers in Ki-Gor’s hands. Using all his mighty strength, he twisted the shaggy head viciously around. There was a tearing sound, and a snap. The gnu sank to the ground trembling—its neck broken.

“Wa-a-aghrr!” shouted Ki-Gor in triumph. At last! Here was food—meat, a plenty.

“Wa-a-aghrr!” came an almost identical roar from behind him.

KI-GOR whirled around and beheld a huge, grey-maned lion crouched not twenty feet away. Its dull eyes and gaunt, mangy sides showed it to be a very old lion, slow-moving and probably toothless. Back home in the jungle, the aged beast would have presented no problem to Ki-Gor. But here on the veldt, there was no cover, and Ki-Gor’s only weapon against those great raking claws, was the Pygmy spear.

The brute looked hungry. Evidently it had been unable to knock down any of the gnus as they galloped to safety, and now it intended to take Ki-Gor’s prize away from him. Stealthily Ki-Gor picked up the light spear and gripped it. Hungry man and hungry beast glared at each other across the fallen body of the gnu.

Then, with a strangled roar, the old lion sprang. Ki-Gor poised—waiting. And, as the lion hit the ground in front of him, Ki-Gor jammed the spear down the red, gaping maw. At the same time, he made a twisting leap, just missing a murderous swipe from a heavy front paw. The lion thrashed its great head in agony, and quickly snapped the slender haft in two. But the spearhead remained embedded far down the beast’s gullet. A torrent of blood poured out of the lion’s mouth, and it staggered away, coughing and shaking its head.

Ki-Gor watched it until it disappeared in the tall grass, then he turned his attention back to the motionless form of the gnu. He knelt down with a smile of satisfaction. It was a fat young buck. Its meat would not be tender, eaten fresh, but it would have a fine flavor, and it would be nourishing. Ki-Gor debated with himself whether to attempt to carry the big antelope back to the camp where he had left Helene, or whether to cut it up on the spot. A foreleg in each hand, he tested the weight of the animal. He shook his head. Strong as he was, it would be too great a load to carry the distance of over a mile.

Suddenly, the smile of satisfaction died off Ki-Gor’s bronzed face, to be replaced by an expression of troubled concern. How was he going to cut it up? He could have used the blade of the Pygmy spear to carve off some slabs of meat from the gnu’s flanks, but—the blade of the Pygmy spear was far down the throat of the dying lion! Ki-Gor kicked petulantly at the body of the gnu. After all his patience and his care in bringing down the antelope, he was now to be cheated out of eating it. So near, and yet so far.

Excerpt From: John Peter Drummond. “Nirvana of the Seven Voodoos.”