Warrior of Two Worlds
By MANLY WADE WELLMAN
He was the man of two planets, drawn through
the blackness of space to save a nation from
ruthless invaders. He was Yandro, the
Stranger of the Prophecy—and he found that
he was destined to fight both sides.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Summer 1944.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
My senses came to me slowly and somehow shyly, as if not sure of theirway or welcome. I felt first—pressure on my brow and chest, as if Ilay face downward; then the tug and buffet of a strong, probing wind,insistent but not cold, upon my naked skin. Closing my hands, I feltthem dig into coarse dirt. I turned my face downwind and opened myeyes. There was little to see, so thick was the dust cloud around me.Words formed themselves on my thick tongue, words that must have beenspoken by so many reviving unfortunates through the ages:
"Where am I?"
And at once there was an answer:
"You lie upon the world Dondromogon."
I knew the language of that answer, but where it came from—above,beneath, or indeed within me—I could not say. I lifted a hand, andknuckled dust from my eyes.
"How did I get here?" I demanded of the speaker.
"It was ordered—by the Masters of the Worlds—that you should bebrought from your own home planet, called Earth in the System of thestar called Sun. Do you remember Earth?"
And I did not know whether I remembered or not. Vague matters stirreddeep in me, but I could not for certain say they were memories. I askedyet again:
"Who am I?"
The voice had a note of triumph. "You do not know that. It is as well,for this will be a birth and beginning of your destined leadership onDondromogon."
"Destined—leadership—" I began to repeat, and fell silent. I hadneed to think. The voice was telling me that I had been snatched fromworlds away, for a specified purpose here on whatever windswept planetDondromogon might be. "Birth and beginning—destined leadership—"Fantastic! And yet, for all I could say to the contrary, unvarnishedlytrue.
"Dondromogon?" I mumbled. "The name is strange to me."
"It is a world the size of your native one," came words of information."Around a star it spins, light-years away from the world of yourbirth. One face of Dondromogon ever looks to the light and heat,wherefore its metals run in glowing seas. The other face is ever awayin cold darkness, with its air freezing into solid chunks. But becauseDondromogon wavers on its axis, there are two lunes of its surfacewhich from time to time shift from night to day. These are habitable."
My eyes were tight shut against the dust, but they saw in imaginationsuch a planet—one-half incandescent, one-half pitchy black. From poleto pole on opposite sides ran the two twilight zones, widest at theequators like the outer rind of two slices of melon. Of course, suchareas, between the hot and cold hemispheres, would be buffeted bymighty gales ... the voice was to be heard again:
"War is fought between the two strips of habitable ground. War,unceasing, bitter, with no quarter asked, given or expected.Dondromogon was found and settled long ago, by adventurers from afar.Now come invaders, to reap the benefits of discovery and toil." Apause. "You find that thought unpleasant? You wish to right thatwrong?"
"Anyone would wish that," I replied. "But how—"
"You are going to ask how you were brought here. That is the mysteryof the Masters." The voice became grand. "Suffice it that you wereneeded, and that the time was ripe. There is a proper time, like aproper place, for each thing and each happening. N