Mirror of the Night Read online

  MIRROR OF THE NIGHT

  E. C. TUBB

  © E. C. Tubb 2003

  © Lisa John 2019

  E. C. Tubb has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  First published in 2003 by Sarob Press.

  This revised edition published in 2019 by Endeavour Venture, an imprint of Endeavour Media Ltd.

  Acknowledgements

  Mirror of the Night first published in Fantasy Annual 2 in 1998

  The Ancient Alchemist first published in Supernatural Stories 9 in 1957

  The Artist’s Model first published in Supernatural Stories 9 in 1957

  Snake Vengeance first published in Supernatural Stories 9 in 1957

  The Enemy Within Us first published in Science Fantasy 11 in 1954

  State of Mind first published in Science Fantasy 77 in 1965

  Sell Me a Dream first published in Nebula Science Fiction 38 in 1958

  The Winner first published in New Writings in Horror and the Supernatural in 1973

  The Witch of Peronia first published in Supernatural Stories 9 in 1957

  Sentimental Journey first published in Nebula Science Fiction 36 in 1957

  Table of Contents

  INTRODUCTION

  MIRROR OF THE NIGHT

  THE ANCIENT ALCHEMIST

  THE ARTIST’S MODEL

  SNAKE VENGEANCE

  THE ENEMY WITHIN US

  STATE OF MIND

  SELL ME A DREAM

  THE WINNER

  THE WITCH OF PERONIA

  SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

  INTRODUCTION

  E.C. (‘Ted’) Tubb’s writing ambitions were born shortly before the Second World War, when he became a fan of the American science fiction pulp magazines then being imported into Britain. By the age of thirteen, he became an avid collector, and began to make contact with fellow enthusiasts, eventually joining the pre-war Science Fiction Association in his native London.

  The outbreak of the war put paid to his own writing, completely disrupting his life, as it did to everyone of his generation. But after the war was over, the members of the old Science Fiction Association—who included such notables as Frank Arnold, Sydney J. Bounds, John Carnell, Arthur C. Clarke, Walter Gillings, and William F. Temple, began to reform. They held informal weekly meetings at the “White Horse” Pub in Fetter Lane. Tubb became a regular attendee of the meetings of this group of fans and fledgling professionals, who soon went on to launch their own professional magazines, and lay the foundations for British science fiction.

  It wasn’t long before Tubb made his professional debut in Carnell’s sf magazine New Worlds, his first story appearing in 1951. At first his stories were science fiction, reflecting the policy of the magazine, and the state of the market. However, once he was settled into the editorial chair of Science Fantasy—taking over from Walter Gillings with its third (Winter 1951) issue—Carnell instituted a change of direction. “It was then my plan to change the magazine,” Carnell later recalled, “and lean the content more towards fantasy fiction, making a division from the ‘straight’ sf of New Worlds.”

  Under Carnell, the magazine continued to use science fiction, but also became “wide open for experimental ideas, leaning primarily towards fantasy,” his editorial policy falling “somewhere between the fantasy of (the American magazines) Unknown Worlds and the macabre of Weird Tales.”

  As a regular contributor, Tubb was happy to respond to this editorial challenge, and wrote a number of fascinating supernatural and off-trail stories for Science Fantasy. From this small but distinguished group of stories, two stories stand out: “The Enemy Within Us” (1954) and “Enchanter’s Encounter” (1959). The first story can be found in this present volume, whilst the latter has recently been included in Twelve From Tomorrow, another Venture Press Tubb collection published by Endeavour Media.

  The first post-war British magazine to feature supernatural fantasy entirely, was the appropriately entitled Supernatural Stories published by John Spencer Ltd. The sales of their sf novels and magazines had been falling, so Spencer’s folded them at the beginning of the year, and tried a new direction. They began to publish western and foreign legion novels, and launched Supernatural Stories as a bi-monthly pocket book in May 1954. With the exception of a single short story, the magazine’s first 8 issues were entirely written by John Glasby under numerous personal pseudonyms.

  E.C. Tubb had been an occasional contributor to their sf magazines, and recognizing his superiority over most of their other contributors, Spencer’s then commissioned Tubb to write western novels for them. The author had long been interested in the history of warfare and ancient weapons, and had read extensively about the American Civil War.

  This factual knowledge, allied to his skills as a writer of fast-moving sf adventure novels, enabled Tubb to deliver a string of well-written westerns, full of violent action and human interest, his handling of the Indian wars in particular having a firm basis in actual western history. The quality of these eleven westerns is attested by the fact that Robert Hale would reprint all of the novels in hardcover nearly 50 years later, and they are currently available as Endeavour Frontier Westerns.

  Late in 1955, after they had accepted these westerns (and a single foreign legion novel) Spencer’s then commissioned Tubb to write an entire 50,000-word issue of Supernatural Stories. He competed the assignment by turning in six stories, three of them novelettes.

  In 2003 I asked Tubb if he had felt comfortable with this commission, and why he had not written further material for this publisher. He told me:

  “Naturally, I’d read Weird Tales and Unknown, and a host of other American pulps when such things were around. Covers with near-naked women on them accompanied by monsters of various kinds. Stories which were, in a very real sense, forerunners of such modern TV series as Charmed, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and others, all dealing with the undead, the zombies, the magic circles and the esoteric number of the beast loved by Aleister Crowley.

  “Tales of the supernatural will always be popular and many people will gain great pleasure in writing them. I count myself among them and would have written more had there been the markets available. But circumstances back in the mid-fifties decreed otherwise.

  “At the time Spencer’s were a low-pay market and I was about to be appointed as the editor of Authentic Science Fiction. I was also doing a full time job, which only left the evenings and weekends free. Weekends meaning half day Saturday and all day Sunday during which time I tried to hit higher paying markets. I informed Spencer’s that I could not submit any further supernatural or other material for them, as I was concentrating on sf which offered a wider (and more lucrative) field.”

  Having lost their best contributor, Spencer’s reaction was to immediately suspend publication of Supernatural Stories, and at first, Tubb’s six stories remained unpublished. It was not until nearly two years later that Supernatural Stories # 9 appeared, in Spring 1957—an “all Tubb” issue. The publisher had finally made certain of a steady supply of fiction by securing the services of the ultra-prolific Lionel Fanthorpe, and he, together with the indefatigable John Glasby, would between them continue to write entire issues of Supernatural Stories for the next 10 years.

  Supernatural Stories # 9 was of excellent quality, and ensured that the new run of the magazine got off to a successful start. This issue—which was technically Tubb’s first-ever collection—has become a much sought-after collector’s item. Today, it is fantastically rare, and despairing Tubb collectors the world over have been searching unsuccessfully for it ever since Tubb’s authorship of the six pseudonymous stories became generally known, when Mike Ashley and I published the
first complete bibliography of Tubb’s stories in 1979 (in The Science Fiction Collector # 7).

  The good news for fans of the author is that four stories from this legendary rarity are reprinted in this collection—“The Ancient Alchemist,” “The Artist’s Model,” “Snake Vengeance,” and “The Witch of Peronia.”

  Thereafter, during the next three decades, Tubb became established as a science fiction novelist, gaining international acclaim and success as the creator of “Dumarest” and “Cap Kennedy.” To all intents and purposes, he seemed to have been lost to the field of supernatural fiction. But, here and there, he continued to write the odd supernatural tale, and this collection reprints some of these rare gems, including “Sentimental Journey” (1957), “Sell Me a Dream” (1958) and “State of Mind” (1965).

  All three fine stories show the author’s skill at writing stories full of human interest and psychology. “State of Mind” is particularly intriguing, an exploration of a marriage in which the husband and wife have grown apart. Asked about this story, Tubb told me: “Accuse a person of something, anything; theft, sexual abuse, blasphemy and, no matter how they react, it can be made to seem a proof of guilt. So, a husband can come to believe that his wife is no longer human, justifying his sadistic cruelty and anger. The rest becomes a logical sequence of events. A basic matter of survival. But, then again, how to be certain that he was wrong?”

  Although “Sentimental Journey” and “Sell Me a Dream” originally appeared in Nebula Science Fiction, they are decidedly off-trail fantasies, perhaps the best of a small group of similar stories appearing in the magazine. Their unlikely appearance there was almost certainly attributable to the fact that Nebula’s readers consistently voted Tubb as their favourite author—he was a Five-Time winner of the magazine’s SF Literary Award (1953-1958). Editor Peter Hamilton wisely allowed his star contributor to write off-trail material when the mood took him, knowing that his readers would not object.

  By the early seventies, however, Tubb had effectively ceased writing short stories altogether, because of the success of his “Dumarest of Terra” novels. Then, in 1973, Tubb was moved to write another supernatural story for his own amusement. “The Winner” was based on real-life characters who were friends of the author, and like “Enchanter’s Encounter” it dealt with an obsessive belief in the supernatural. Tubb wryly recalled: “To me it was a fun-thing, a story I enjoyed writing for its own sake, and was not slanted to any particular market.” Fortunately, the writing of the story coincided with anthologist Dave Sutton looking for material for a new collection, New Writings in Horror and the Supernatural, where the story duly appeared. Sutton’s collection was published as a paperback original by Sphere Books, and, inexplicably, is now extremely scarce. This reprinting of “The Winner” will be welcomed by the many fans of the author who missed the evanescent Sphere edition first time round.

  That just leaves me with one story, “Mirror of the Night,” the evocative title story of this collection. This story has a special association for me, because I was the editor who first commissioned and then published it! In 1997, together with my American colleague Sean Wallace, I decided to publish a new small-press magazine, Fantasy Annual. Our avowed editorial aim was “to present material of genuine interest that might otherwise remain unseen, in a publishing climate dominated by television and film franchising.” I obtained stories for our new magazine by commissioning them from some of my favourite veteran authors who, I considered, had for too long been absent from the pages of British sf and fantasy magazines—names such as Sydney J. Bounds, Philip E. High, E.R. James, Eric C. Williams, and not least E.C. Tubb. I encouraged them to submit both science fiction and supernatural stories.

  All of them responded with wonderful new material, which served as an indictment of the elitist and dismissive “ageist” attitudes of contemporary magazine editors. I had no hesitation in publishing “Mirror of the Night” as lead story in my second issue, and according it the cover illustration. In this story, Tubb takes one of the most familiar devices in tales of the supernatural—the old deserted house encountered during a stormy night—but by the sheer power of his writing transforms it into a masterpiece of horror. It was thereafter picked up by famed anthologist Stephen Jones for inclusion in one of his own prestigious horror story collections.

  Finally, I would like to share with you Tubb’s own summation of his approach to the supernatural, as exemplified in these ten stories:

  “In magic and fantasy there are no problems. A spell, a magic gesture, and all is solved. Good stuff and entertaining and increasingly popular in an age which gains little from old beliefs and is lost in a mass of technology which only the modern equivalent of priests and sorcerers can understand.

  “A world in which the supernatural gains importance as the old barriers begin to fade. As the testimony of those who have died to be resurrected by the miracle of modern science give cause for question.

  “We all want to have power—the ability to wave a hand and destroy an enemy or cast a spell and achieve a desired result. Magic offers an attractive alternative to the hard work, discipline and dedication needed to gain real power and knowledge such as that gained by a doctor who has earned the ability to ease pain and heal. Those believing in magic and practicing it are convinced that power can be obtained by contacting devils and demons and creatures from an alien dimension, Gifts given as rewards for humiliation and ritual sacrifice.

  “An alluring prospect—but one which holds scant testimony of actual success. But—can we ever be certain?

  “Is there life beyond the grave? Do the dead really leave us? Are their ghosts lingering, lost and forlorn, seeking the comfort of association? Of recognition?

  “How can anyone be certain?”

  I can, however, be certain of one thing: the writing of my late friend Ted Tubb will continue to be reprinted worldwide, and read and enjoyed by new generations of readers.

  Philip Harbottle, 2019

  MIRROR OF THE NIGHT

  Thunder made a fitting accompaniment; sonorous echoes rolling from the surrounding hills, the fitful glare of lightning dancing like silver ghosts on the shadowed peaks. Savage brilliance which threw into sharp detail the massed vegetation, the winding road, the branches which, almost meeting from side to side, made a laced canopy overhead and enhanced the Gothic mystery of the terrain.

  One Stephen Aldcock appreciated and would have used earlier in his career. It gave an added dimension to the trip he was making into the Appalachians following narrow, unmarked and near-forgotten roads, the wheels of the car bouncing into ruts, the sides lashed by hanging fronds.

  A journey Diane wasn’t enjoying. She hadn’t spoken since he’d switched off the radio. Trying to argue she had met defeat and now sulked in silence wreathed by a haze of smoke. Yet he had been right to insist; the region held an atmosphere of its own and the noise had been a distraction.

  Glancing at her he tried to explain.

  “We’re travelling back in time,” he said. “Into the past when people lived close to nature. This region has hardly changed since the settlers first came. Try to imagine it,” he urged. “They had to move along narrow paths winding between scattered habitations. These woods would have sheltered all kinds of danger and travellers would have been attacked, ripped, clawed, shot, stabbed; left to lie bleeding on the ground. Think of being injured, lying out there in the woods with night closing in just as it is now. Hurt, knowing you’re alone with death very close. Knowing too that something could be watching you. Something inhuman.”

  “You’re sick,” she said. “Crazy.”

  “It happened.”

  “Sure it happened.” She lit another cigarette. “No matter what you imagine somewhere, at some time, it has happened. So people died out here—so what?”

  “Can’t you feel it? The atmosphere? The magic?”

  “I feel cold,” she snapped impatiently. “I feel hungry and tired and cramped. I need a good meal, a bath, a warm
bed. How much longer are you going amuse yourself by dragging me around these godforsaken roads?”

  She had no imagination, but he had known that when he married her. Then it hadn’t seemed important and he had traded compatibility for appearance. She had dazzled him with her physical beauty and he had lusted after the prize. Now, too often, he regretted having won it.

  Patiently he said, “Try harder, darling. Look at these hills, each as old as time. Listen to the thunder. Feel the atmosphere of the place. It’s odd. Strange. As if aliens had landed here eons ago and performed mysterious rites to unknown gods. See!” He pointed to a distant rift, one suddenly touched by the glare of lightning. “Beyond that cleft could lie a forgotten village in which at each sunset, a sacrifice is made. A hen or a rat, maybe, but once a year something larger. A dog, a goat, even a girl. A real, live unblemished virgin!”

  “Stop it!”

  “You wouldn’t qualify, of course, not as a virgin. But they’d settle for your beauty.”

  She snapped, savagely, “That’s enough of this stupid talk. Writers are supposed to be a little crazy but this is too much. If you’re trying to frighten me you’re wasting your time. Now let’s get back to civilization and find a decent motel.”

  It wasn’t that easy. As the night closed around them he realized they were lost. The road he followed branched into smaller tracks and, choosing one at random, he drove down a path on which it was impossible to turn.

  As Diane complained he said, quickly, “This must lead to a farm. When we reach it there’ll be room to turn. Just sit and relax.”

  Several minutes later, without warning, the path opened to reveal the totally unexpected.

  “No!” Braking he leaned forward to stare at what lay ahead. “I don’t believe it!”

  “A house! Stephen, it’s a house!”