The Duel of the Sorcerers by Paul Ernst

Book Details

The Duel of the Sorcerers (1932) – It is magic in the dark—sorcerer against sorcerer—master against his hell-bound pupil.

When a young apprentice sorcerer comes to believe that the Dark Arts are his to channel, direct and to compel, he gets lost in the unbridled power they bring. His quest to conquer humanity must be stopped.

Chapter I – Mark of the Fang
Chapter II – Doctor Quoy
Chapter III – The Black Arts
Chapter IV – The Enemy Retreats
Chapter V – Minions of Death
Chapter VI – Puppets of Doom
Chapter VII – Of Another World
Chapter VIII – Unholy Divination
Chapter IX – Under the Red Roof
Chapter X – The Aspen Stake
Chapter XI – Into the Night
Chapter XII – The Vampire’s Den
Chapter XIII – Trapped
Chapter XIV – Doctor Quoy Returns
Chapter XV – The Golden Noose
Chapter XVI – Through the Heart!

The Wizard Merlin

Fitting for an author who wrote mysteries, horror, and speculative science fiction, there is conflicting information about Paul Ernst. He was born sometime between 1899 and 1902 and died sometime between 1983 and 1985.

Duel of the Sorcerers has 2 illustrations.

Files:

1. DuelOfSorcerers.epub

Excerpt: The Duel of the Sorcerers

Chapter I

Mark of the Fang

RICK BALLARD gazed once again at the tiny inflamed marks on the throat of the unconscious girl. His face, drawn with worry over this mysterious illness that had attacked her, had grown even more pallid at the words of Tholl.

“But, Professor!” he exclaimed. “What you say is impossible. Impossible! No one but a superstitious child could believe in such things.”

“Professor Tholl shook his head impatiently. It was a noble head. White hair, cut long, cascaded down almost to his collar; his white beard suggested wisdom and venerability. A large, strong nose rose incisively over firm lips and chin. His eyes were gray, cool and piercing.

“If it is not that—what is it?”

Rick Ballard gnawed at his lip in perplexity.

“How should I know? Even the doctors couldn’t tell.”

The combined night staff of the hospital had just left the room, after having bent over the girl who lay like a pale statue in her trance-like state, and studied those inflamed little marks on her throat with the grave profundity of ignorance. No two of the doctors had arrived at the same conclusion regarding the cause of the punctures.

“Of course they couldn’t tell,” said Professor Tholl. “But I can, although I wouldn’t dream of declaring the truth to such advanced —scientists.” His firm lips moved with a trace of contempt. “I tell you those marks are the marks of fangs. The fangs of——a vampire!”

Rick drew in his breath with a hissing sound.

“Impossible!” he repeated.

“What else could have caused them?’*

“A—a rat, perhaps? Some large, poisonous insect?”

“In a modern hospital? No, my young friend! Such a thing would be more incredible than vampires!”

Rick gazed long at the old man. Already he felt drawn to him, liked him and respected him, though he had not met him until two days ago.

Two days ago! The thought sent Rick’s mind off on an agonized path. . . .

TWO short days ago Priscilla Rand, the golden-haired girl who lay in deathly, pallid beauty on the narrow bed, had been normal and healthy. Rick Ballard and she had been an average young engaged couple, who were to be married as soon as his finances permitted. No cloud showed on their sky.

Then, two evenings ago, Rick had called at her home at eight-thirty, to find chaos there and to see the Rand family physician examining an unconscious girl, and to hear him admitting that he did not know what was wrong with her. All he could discover were the two marks on her throat—the marks that appeared to have been produced by some sharp-toothed, rodent thing.

There had followed a trip to the hospital, medical conferences which got nowhere, and forty-eight hours during which Priscilla Rand lay in a coma that defied attempts to bring her to consciousness. Also had followed a night in which two new marks appeared on her throat, just above the partly healed ones that had shown that first night.

On the first night, shortly after Priscilla had been brought in, this Professor Tholl had entered the room. No one of the doctors appeared to have more than a speaking acquaintance with him; none appeared to know just who he was or what he wanted; but he seemed to have unlimited permission in the hospital.

He had stayed with Rick the first night after the others had left, sympathizing with him and studying those small red marks—continually studying them. Now, tonight, he had remained again. And to-night he had made this amazing, the horrible declaration: “Only one thing could have made those marks. A vampire!”

Rick shuddered. Two days ago, at mention of that word, he would have laughed. Now, gazing at those sinister little red dots in the soft white flesh of Priscilla’s throat, and listening to the distinguished-looking elderly man beside him, Rick didn’t know what to think!

PROFESSOR THOLL smiled at him. “Is it so hard to believe? But, I tell you, I know! Have I spent thirty years of study not to know something of vampirism? Why, the odor in the room, alone, is enough to tell infallibly what’s wrong!”

“Odor?” echoed Rick almost stupidly. His eyes, blood-shot with worry, went questioningly toward the professor.

“Yes. Surely you’ve noticed it— both last night and to-night? I am surprised the physicians here didn’t remark on it.”

Rick sniffed. He had noticed a slight odor, a shade stronger than the smell of antiseptics usually to be found in a hospital, but he had dismissed it from his mind. He wasn’t used to hospitals; he had accepted it as a natural odor. Now he concentrated on it again.

More distinctly it came to his nostrils; and now he shivered a little, and an inexplicable icy feeling crept up his spine. A faint but unmistakable smell of things moldering and ancient—a sort of stench of death—hung in the air of that small room. Or was it but the product of his imagination. . . .”

Excerpt From: Paul Ernst. “The Duel of the Sorcerers.”