The Naked Word electronic edition of....
The Moon Pool
by A. Merritt, 1919

Foreword
The publication of the following narrative of Dr. Walter T. Goodwin hasbeen authorized by the Executive Council of the International Associationof Science.
First:
To end officially what is beginning to be called the Throckmartin Mysteryand to kill the innuendo and scandalous suspicions which have threatenedto stain the reputations of Dr. David Throckmartin, his youthful wife, andequally youthful associate Dr. Charles Stanton ever since a tardy despatchfrom Melbourne, Australia, reported the disappearance of the first from aship sailing to that port, and the subsequent reports of the disappearanceof his wife and associate from the camp of their expedition in the CarolineIslands.
Second:
Because the Executive Council have concluded that Dr. Goodwin's experiencesin his wholly heroic effort to save the three, and the lessons and warningswithin those experiences, are too important to humanity as a whole to behidden away in scientific papers understandable only to the technically educated;or to be presented through the newspaper press in the abridged and fragmentaryform which the space limitations of that vehicle make necessary.
For these reasons the Executive Council commissioned Mr. A. Merritt totranscribe into form to be readily understood by the layman the stenographicnotes of Dr. Goodwin's own report to the Council, supplemented by furtheroral reminiscences and comments by Dr. Goodwin; this transcription, editedand censored by the Executive Council of the Association, forms the contentsof this book.
Himself a member of the Council, Dr. Walter T. Goodwin, Ph.D., F.R.G.S.etc., is without cavil the foremost of American botanists, an observer ofinternational reputation and the author of several epochal treaties uponhis chosen branch of science. His story, amazing in the best sense of thatword as it may be, is fully supported by proofs brought forward by him andaccepted by the organization of which I have the honor to be president. Whatmatter has been elided from this popular presentation— because of theexcessively menacing potentialities it contains, which unrestricted disseminationmight develop— will be dealt with in purely scientific pamphlets of carefullyguarded circulation.
THE INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF SCIENCE
Per J. B. K., President
 
CHAPTER I
The Thing on the Moon Path
For two months I had been on the d'Entrecasteaux Islands gathering data forthe concluding chapters of my book upon the flora of the volcanic islandsof the South Pacific. The day before I had reached Port Moresby and had seenmy specimens safely stored on board the Southern Queen. As I sat onthe upper deck I thought, with homesick mind, of the long leagues betweenme and Melbourne, and the longer ones between Melbourne and New York.
It was one of Papua's yellow mornings when she shows herself in her sombrest,most baleful mood. The sky was smouldering ochre. Over the island broodeda spirit sullen, alien, implacable, filled with the threat of latent, maleficforces waiting to be unleashed. It seemed an emanation out of the untamed,sinister heart of Papua herself— sinister even when she smiles. And nowand then, on the wind, came a breath from virgin jungles, laden with unfamiliarodours, mysterious and menacing.
It is on such mornings that Papua whispers to you of her immemorial ancientnessand of her power. And, as every white man must, I fought against her spell.While I struggled I saw a tall figure striding down the pier; a Kapa-Kapaboy followed swinging a new valise. There was something familiar about thetall man. As he reached the gangplank he looked up straight into my eyes,stared for a moment, then waved his hand.
And now I knew him. It was Dr. David Throckmartin—— "Throck" hewas to me always, one of my oldest friends and, as well, a mind of the firstwater whose power and achievements were for me a constant inspiration asthey were, I know, for scores other.
Coincidentally with my recognition came a shock of surprise,definitely— unpleasant. It was Throckmartin— but about him was somethingdisturbingly unlike the man I had known long so well and to whom and to whoselittle party I had bidden farewell less than a month before I myself hadsailed for these seas. He had married only a few weeks before, Edith, thedaughter of Professor William Frazier, younger by at least a decade thanhe but at one with him in his ideals and as much in love, if it were possible,as Throckmartin. By virtue of her father's training a wonderful assistant,by virtue of her own sweet, sound heart a— I use the word in its oldensense— lover. With his equally youthful associate Dr. Charles Stantonand a Swedish woman, Thora Halversen, who had been Edith Throckmartin's nursefrom babyhood, they had set forth for the Nan-Matal, that extraordinary groupof island ruins clustered along the eastern shore of Ponape in the Carolines.
I knew that he had planned to spend at least a year among these ruins, notonly of Ponape but of Lele— twin centres of a colossal riddle of humanity,a weird flower of civilization that blossomed ages before the seeds of Egyptwere sown; of whose arts we know little enough and of whose science nothing.He had carried with him unusually complete equipment for the work he hadexpected to do and which, he hoped, would be his monument.
What then had brought Throckmartin to Port Moresby, and what was that changeI had sensed in him?
Hurrying down to the lower deck I found him with the purser. As I spoke heturned, thrust out to me an eager hand— and then I saw what was thatdifference that had so moved me. He knew, of course by my silence and involuntaryshrinking the shock my closer look had given me. His eyes filled; he turnedbrusquely from the purser, hesitated— then hurried off to his stateroom.
"'E looks rather queer— eh?" said the purser. "Know 'im well, sir? Seemsto 'ave given you quite a start."
I made some reply and went slowly up to my chair. There I sat, composed mymind and tried to define what it was that had shaken me so. Now it came tome. The old Throckmartin was on the eve of his venture just turned forty,lithe, erect, muscular; his controlling expression one of enthusiasm, ofintellectual keenness, of— what shall I say— expectant search. Hisalways questioning brain had stamped its vigor upon his face.
But the Throckmartin I had seen below was one who had borne some searingshock of mingled rapture and horror; some soul cataclysm that in its climaxhad remoulded, deep from within, his face, setting on it seal of wedded ecstasyand despair; as though indeed these two had come to him hand in hand, takenpossession of him and departing left behind, ineradicably, their linked shadows!
Yes— it was that which appalled. For how could rapture and horror, Heavenand Hell mix, clasp hands— kiss?
Yet these were what in closest embrace lay on Throckmartin's face!
Deep in thought, subconsciously with relief, I watched the shore line sinkbehind; welcomed the touch of the wind of the free seas. I had hoped, andwithin the hope was an inexplicable shrinking that I would meet Throckmartinat lunch. He did not come down, and I was sensible of deliverance withinmy disappointment. All that afternoon I lounged about uneasily but stillhe kept to his cabin— and within me was no strength to summon him. Nordid he appear at dinner.
Dusk and night fell swiftly. I was warm and went back to my deck-chair. TheSouthern Queen was rolling to a disquieting swell and I had the placeto myself.
Over the heavens was a canopy of cloud, glowing faintly and testifying tothe moon riding behind it. There was much phosphorescence. Fitfully beforethe ship and at her sides arose those stranger little swirls of mist thatswirl up from the Southern Ocean like breath of sea monsters, whirl for aninstant and disappear.
Suddenly the deck door opened and through it came Throckmartin. He pauseduncertainly, looked up at the sky with a curiously eager, intent gaze, hesitated,then closed the door behind him.
"Throck," I called. "Come! It's Goodwin."
He made his way to me.
"Throck," I said, wasting no time in preliminaries. "What's wrong? Can Ihelp you?"
I felt his body grow tense.
"I'm going to Melbourne, Goodwin," he answered. "I need a few things— needthem urgently. And more men— white men——"
He stopped abruptly; rose from his chair, gazed intently toward the north.I followed his gaze. Far, far away the moon had broken through the clouds.Almost on the horizon, you could see the faint luminescence of it upon thesmooth sea. The distant patch of light quivered and shook. The clouds thickenedagain and it was gone. The ship raced on southward, swiftly.
Throckmartin dropped into his chair. He lighted a cigarette with a hand thattrembled; then turned to me with abrupt resolution.
"Goodwin," he said. "I do need help. If ever man needed it, I do.Goodwin— can you imagine yourself in another world, alien, unfamiliar,a world of terror, whose unknown joy is its greatest terror of all; you allalone there, a stranger! As such a man would need help, so I need——"
He paused abruptly and arose; the cigarette dropped from his fingers. Themoon had again broken through the clouds, and this time much nearer. Nota mile away was the patch of light that it threw upon the waves. Back ofit, to the rim of the sea was a lane of moonlight; a gigantic gleaming serpentracing over the edge of the world straight and surely toward the ship.
Throckmartin stiffened to it as a pointer does to a hidden covey. To me fromhim pulsed a thrill of horror— but horror tinged with an unfamiliar,an infernal joy. It came to me and passed away— leaving me tremblingwith its shock of bitter sweet.
He bent forward, all his soul in his eyes. The moon path swept closer, closerstill. It was now less than half a mile away. From it the ship fled— almostas though pursued. Down upon it, swift and straight, a radiant torrent cleavingthe waves, raced the moon stream.
"Good God!" breathed Throckmartin, and if ever the words were a prayer andan invocation they were.
And then, for the first time— I saw— it!
The moon path stretched to the horizon and was bordered by darkness. It wasas though the clouds above had been parted to form a lane— drawn asidelike curtains or as the waters of the Red Sea were held back to let the hostsof Israel through. On each side of the stream was the black shadow cast bythe folds of the high canopies And straight as a road between the opaquewalls gleamed, shimmered, and danced the shining, racing, rapids of themoonlight.
Far, it seemed immeasurably far, along this stream of silver fire I sensed,rather than saw, something coming. It drew first into sight as a deeper glowwithin the light. On and on it swept toward us— an opalescent mistinessthat sped with the suggestion of some winged creature in arrowed flight.Dimly there crept into my mind memory of the Dyak legend of the winged messengerof Buddha— the Akla bird whose feathers are woven of the moon rays, whoseheart is a living opal, whose wings in flight echo the crystal clear musicof the white stars— but whose beak is of frozen flame and shreds thesouls of unbelievers.
Closer it drew and now there came to me sweet, insistent tinklings— likepizzicati on violins of glass; crystal clear; diamonds melting into sounds!
Now the Thing was close to the end of the white path; close up to the barrierof darkness still between the ship and the sparkling head of the moon stream.Now it beat up against that barrier as a bird against the bars of its cage.It whirled with shimmering plumes, with swirls of lacy light, with spiralsof living vapour. It held within it odd, unfamiliar gleams as of shiftingmother-of-pearl. Coruscations and glittering atoms drifted through it asthough it drew them from the rays that bathed it.
Nearer and nearer it came, borne on the sparkling waves, and ever thinnershrank the protecting wall of shadow between it and us. Within the mistinesswas a core, a nucleus of intenser light— veined, opaline, effulgent,intensely alive. And above it, tangled in the plumes and spirals that throbbedand whirled were seven glowing lights.
Through all the incessant but strangely ordered movement ofthe— thing— these lights held firm and steady. They wereseven— like seven little moons. One was of a pearly pink, one of a delicatenacreous blue, one of lambent saffron, one of the emerald you see in theshallow waters of tropic isles; a deathly white; a ghostly amethyst; andone of the silver that is seen only when the flying fish leap beneath themoon.
The tinkling music was louder still. It pierced the ears with a shower oftiny lances; it made the heart beat jubilantly— and checked it dolorously.It closed the throat with a throb of rapture and gripped it tight with thehand of infinite sorrow!
Came to me now a murmuring cry, stilling the crystal notes. It wasarticulate— but as though from something utterly foreign to this world.The ear took the cry and translated with conscious labour into the soundsof earth. And even as it compassed, the brain shrank from it irresistibly,and simultaneously it seemed reached toward it with irresistible eagerness.
Throckmartin strode toward the front of the deck, straight toward the vision,now but a few yards away from the stern. His face had lost all human semblance.Utter agony and utter ecstasy— there they were side by side, not resistingeach other; unholy inhuman companions blending into a look that none of God'screatures should wear— and deep, deep as his soul! A devil and a Goddwelling harmoniously side by side! So must Satan, newly fallen, still divine,seeing heaven and contemplating hell, have appeared.
And then— swiftly the moon path faded! The clouds swept over the skyas though a hand had drawn them together. Up from the south came a roaringsquall. As the moon vanished what I had seen vanished with it— blottedout as an image on a magic lantern; the tinkling ceased abruptly— leavinga silence like that which follows an abrupt thunder clap. There was nothingabout us but silence and blackness!
Through me passed a trembling as one who has stood on the very verge of thegulf wherein the men of the Louisades says lurks the fisher of the soulsof men, and has been plucked back by sheerest chance.
Throckmartin passed an arm around me.
"It is as I thought," he said. In his voice was a new note; the calm certaintythat has swept aside a waiting terror of the unknown. "Now I know! Come withme to my cabin, old friend. For now that you too have seen I can tellyou"— he hesitated— "what it was you saw," he ended.
As we passed through the door we met the ship's first officer. Throckmartincomposed his face into at least a semblance of normality.
"Going to have much of a storm?" he asked.
"Yes," said the mate. "Probably all the way to Melbourne."
Throckmartin straightened as though with a new thought. He gripped the officer'ssleeve eagerly.
"You mean at least cloudy weather— for"— he hesitated— "for thenext three nights, say?"
"And for three more," replied the mate.
"Thank God!" cried Throckmartin, and I think I never heard such relief andhope as was in his voice.
The sailor stood amazed. "Thank God?" he repeated. "Thank— what d'yemean?"
But Throckmartin was moving onward to his cabin. I started to follow. Thefirst officer stopped me.
"Your friend," he said, "is he ill?"
"The sea!" I answered hurriedly. "He's not used to it. I am going to lookafter him."
Doubt and disbelief were plain in the seaman's eyes but I hurried on. ForI knew now that Throckmartin was ill indeed— but with a sickness theship's doctor nor any other could heal.
CHAPTER II
"Dead! All Dead!"
He was sitting, face in hands, on the side of his berth as I entered. Hehad taken off his coat.
"Throck," I cried. "What was it? What are you flying from, man? Where isyour wife— and Stanton?"
"Dead!" he replied monotonously. "Dead! All dead!" Then as I recoiled fromhim— "All dead. Edith, Stanton, Thora— dead— or worse. And Edithin the Moon Pool— with them— drawn by what you saw on the moonpath— that has put its brand upon me— and follows me!"
He ripped open his shirt.
"Look at this," he said. Around his chest, above his heart, the skin waswhite as pearl. This whiteness was sharply defined against the healthy tintof the body. It circled him with an even cincture about two inches wide.
"Burn it!" he said, and offered me his cigarette. I drew back. Hegestured— peremptorily. I pressed the glowing end of the cigarette intothe ribbon of white flesh. He did not flinch nor was there odour of burningnor, as I drew the little cylinder away, any mark upon the whiteness.
"Feel it!" he commanded again. I placed my fingers upon the band. It wascold— like frozen marble.
He drew his shirt around him.
"Two things you have seen," he said. "It— and its mark. Seeing,you must believe my story. Goodwin, I tell you again that my wife isdead— or worse— I do not know; the prey of— what you saw; so,too, is Stanton; so Thora. How——"
Tears rolled down the seared face.
"Why did God let it conquer us? Why did He let it take my Edith?" he criedin utter bitterness. "Are there things stronger than God, do you think, Walter?"
I hesitated.
"Are there? Are there?" His wild eyes searched me.
"I do not know just how you define God," I managed at last through myastonishment to make answer. "If you mean the will to know, working throughscience——"
He waved me aside impatiently.
"Science," he said. "What is our science against— that? Or against thescience of whatever devils that made it— or made the way for it to enterthis world of ours?"
With an effort he regained control.
"Goodwin," he said, "do you know at all of the ruins on the Carolines; thecyclopean, megalithic cities and harbours of Ponape and Lele, of Kusaie,of Ruk and Hogolu, and a score of other islets there? Particularly, do youknow of the Nan-Matal and the Metalanim?"
"Of the Metalanim I have heard and seen photographs," I said. "They callit, don't they, the Lost Venice of the Pacific?"
"Look at this map," said Throckmartin. "That," he went on, "is Christian'schart of Metalanim harbour and the Nan-Matal. Do you see the rectangles markedNan-Tauach?"
"Yes," I said.
"There," he said, "under those walls is the Moon Pool and the seven gleaminglights that raise the Dweller in the Pool, and the altar and shrine of theDweller. And there in the Moon Pool with it lie Edith and Stanton and Thora."
"The Dweller in the Moon Pool?" I repeated half-incredulously.
"The Thing you saw," said Throckmartin solemnly.
A solid sheet of rain swept the ports, and the Southern Queen beganto roll on the rising swells. Throckmartin drew another deep breath of relief,and drawing aside a curtain peered out into the night. Its blackness seemedto reassure him. At any rate, when he sat again he was entirely calm.
"There are no more wonderful ruins in the world," he began almost casually."They take in some fifty islets and cover with their intersecting canalsand lagoons about twelve square miles. Who built them? None knows. When werethey built? Ages before the memory of present man, that is sure. Ten thousand,twenty thousand, a hundred thousand years ago— the last more likely.
"All these islets, Walter, are squared, and their shores are frowning seawallsof gigantic basalt blocks hewn and put in place by the hands of ancient man.Each inner water-front is faced with a terrace of those basalt blocks whichstand out six feet above the shallow canals that meander between them. Onthe islets behind these walls are time-shattered fortresses, palaces, terraces,pyramids; immense courtyards strewn with ruins— and all so old that theyseem to wither the eyes of those who look on them.
"There has been a great subsidence. You can stand out of Metalanim harbourfor three miles and look down upon the tops of similar monolithic structuresand walls twenty feet below you in the water.
"And all about, strung on their canals, are the bulwarked islets with theirenigmatic walls peering through the dense growths of mangroves— dead,deserted for incalculable ages; shunned by those who live near.
"You as a botanist are familiar with the evidence that a vast shadowy continentexisted in the Pacific— a continent that was not rent asunder by volcanicforces as was that legendary one of Atlantis in the Eastern Ocean.[1] Mywork in Java, in Papua, and in the Ladrones had set my mind upon this Pacificlost land. Just as the Azores are believed to be the last high peaks of Atlantis,so hints came to me steadily that Ponape and Lele and their basalt bulwarkedislets were the last points of the slowly sunken western land clinging stillto the sunlight, and had been the last refuge and sacred places of the rulersof that race which had lost their immemorial home under the rising watersof the Pacific.
[1 For more detailed observations on these points refer toG. Volkens, Uber die Karolinen Insel Yap, in Verhandlungen GesellschaftErdkunde Berlin, xxvii (1901); J. S. Kubary, Ethnographische Beitragezur Kentniss des Karolinen Archipel (Leiden, 1889-1892); De AbradeHistoria del Conflicto de las Carolinas, etc. (Madrid, 1886).—W. T. G. ]
"I believed that under these ruins I might find the evidence that I sought.
"My— my wife and I had talked before we were married of making this ourgreat work. After the honeymoon we prepared for the expedition. Stanton wasas enthusiastic as ourselves. We sailed, as you know, last May for fulfilmentof my dreams.
"At Ponape we selected, not without difficulty, workmen to help us— diggers.I had to make extraordinary inducements before I could get together my force.Their beliefs are gloomy, these Ponapeans. They people their swamps, theirforests, their mountains, and shores, with malignant spirits— anithey call them. And they are afraid— bitterly afraid of the isles ofruins and what they think the ruins hide. I do not wonder— now!
"When they were told where they were to go, and how long we expected to stay,they murmured. Those who, at last, were tempted made what I thought thenmerely a superstitious proviso that they were to be allowed to go away onthe three nights of the full moon. Would to God we had heeded them and gonetoo!"
"We passed into Metalanim harbour. Off to our left— a mile away arosea massive quadrangle. Its walls were all of forty feet high and hundredsof feet on each side. As we drew by, our natives grew very silent; watchedit furtively, fearfully. I knew it for the ruins that are called Nan-Tauach,the 'place of frowning walls.' And at the silence of my men I recalled whatChristian had written of this place; of how he had come upon its 'ancientplatforms and tetragonal enclosures of stonework; its wonder of tortuousalleyways and labyrinth of shallow canals; grim masses of stonework peeringout from behind verdant screens; cyclopean barricades,' and of how, whenhe had turned 'into its ghostly shadows, straight-way the merriment of guideswas hushed and conversation died down to whispers.'"
He was silent for a little time.
"Of course I wanted to pitch our camp there," he went on again quietly, "butI soon gave up that idea. The natives were panic-stricken— threatenedto turn back. 'No,' they said, 'too great ani there. We go to anyother place— but not there.'
"We finally picked for our base the islet called Uschen-Tau. It was closeto the isle of desire, but far enough away from it to satisfy our men. Therewas an excellent camping-place and a spring of fresh water. We pitched ourtents, and in a couple of days the work was in full swing."
CHAPTER III
The Moon Rock
"I do not intend to tell you now," Throckmartin continued, "the results ofthe next two weeks, nor of what we found. Later— if I am allowed, I willlay all that before you. It is sufficient to say that at the end of thosetwo weeks I had found confirmation for many of my theories.
"The place, for all its decay and desolation, had not infected us with anytouch of morbidity— that is not Edith, Stanton, or myself. But Thorawas very unhappy. She was a Swede, as you know, and in her blood ran thebeliefs and superstitions of the Northland— some of them so strangelyakin to those of this far southern land; beliefs of spirits of mountain andforest and water werewolves and beings malign. From the first she showeda curious sensitivity to what, I suppose, may be called the 'influences'of the place. She said it 'smelled' of ghosts and warlocks.
"I laughed at her then——
"Two weeks slipped by, and at their end the spokesman for our natives cameto us. The next night was the full of the moon, he said. He reminded me ofmy promise. They would go back to their village in the morning; they wouldreturn after the third night, when the moon had begun to wane. They leftus sundry charms for our 'protection,' and solemnly cautioned us to keepas far away as possible from Nan-Tauach during their absence. Half-exasperated,half-amused I watched them go.
"No work could be done without them, of course, so we decided to spend thedays of their absence junketing about the southern islets of the group. Wemarked down several spots for subsequent exploration, and on the morningof the third day set forth along the east face of the breakwater for ourcamp on Uschen-Tau, planning to have everything in readiness for the returnof our men the next day.
"We landed just before dusk, tired and ready for our cots. It was only alittle after ten o'clock that Edith awakened me.
"'Listen!' she said. 'Lean over with your ear close to the ground!'
"I did so, and seemed to hear, far, far below, as though coming up from greatdistances, a faint chanting. It gathered strength, died down, ended; began,gathered volume, faded away into silence.
"'It's the waves rolling on rocks somewhere,' I said. 'We're probably oversome ledge of rock that carries the sound.'
"'It's the first time I've heard it,' replied my wife doubtfully. We listenedagain. Then through the dim rhythms, deep beneath us, another sound came.It drifted across the lagoon that lay between us and Nan-Tauach in littletinkling waves. It was music— of a sort; I won't describe the strangeeffect it had upon me. You've felt it——"
"You mean on the deck?" I asked. Throckmartin nodded.
"I went to the flap of the tent," he continued, "and peered out. As I didso Stanton lifted his flap and walked out into the moonlight, looking overto the other islet and listening. I called to him.
"'That's the queerest sound!' he said. He listened again. 'Crystalline! Likelittle notes of translucent glass. Like the bells of crystal on the sistrumsof Isis at Dendarah Temple,' he added half-dreamily. We gazed intently atthe island. Suddenly, on the sea-wall, moving slowly, rhythmically, we sawa little group of lights. Stanton laughed.
"'The beggars!' he exclaimed. 'That's why they wanted to get away, is it?Don't you see, Dave, it's some sort of a festival— rites of some kindthat they hold during the full moon! That's why they were so eager to haveus keep away, too.'
"The explanation seemed good. I felt a curious sense of relief, althoughI had not been sensible of any oppression.
"'Let's slip over,' suggested Stanton— but I would not.
"'They're a difficult lot as it is,' I said. 'If we break into one of theirreligious ceremonies they'll probably never forgive us. Let's keep out ofany family party where we haven't been invited.'
"'That's so,' agreed Stanton.
"The strange tinkling rose and fell, rose and fell——
"'There's something— something very unsettling about it,' said Edithat last soberly. 'I wonder what they make those sounds with. They frightenme half to death, and, at the same time, they make me feel as though someenormous rapture were just around the corner.'
"'It's devilish uncanny!' broke in Stanton.
"And as he spoke the flap of Thora's tent was raised and out into the moonlightstrode the old Swede. She was the great Norse type— tall, deep-breasted,moulded on the old Viking lines. Her sixty years had slipped from her. Shelooked like some ancient priestess of Odin.
"She stood there, her eyes wide, brilliant, staring. She thrust her headforward toward Nan-Tauach, regarding the moving lights; she listened. Suddenlyshe raised her arms and made a curious gesture to the moon. It was— anarchaic— movement; she seemed to drag it from remote antiquity— yetin it was a strange suggestion of power. Twice she repeated this gestureand— the tinklings died away! She turned to us.
"'Go!' she said, and her voice seemed to come from far distances. 'Go fromhere— and quickly! Go while you may. It has called— ' She pointedto the islet. 'It knows you are here. It waits!' she wailed. 'Itbeckons— the— the—— '
"She fell at Edith's feet, and over the lagoon came again the tinklings,now with a quicker note of jubilance— almost of triumph.
"We watched beside her throughout the night. The sounds from Nan-Tauach continueduntil about an hour before moon-set. In the morning Thora awoke, none theworse, apparently. She had had bad dreams, she said. She could not rememberwhat they were— except that they had warned her of danger. She was oddlysullen, and throughout the morning her gaze returned again and againhalf-fascinatedly, half-wonderingly to the neighbouring isle.
"That afternoon the natives returned. And that night on Nan-Tauach the silencewas unbroken nor were there lights nor sign of life.
"You will understand, Goodwin, how the occurrences I have related would excitethe scientific curiosity. We rejected immediately, of course, any explanationadmitting the supernatural.
"Our— symptoms let me call them— could all very easily be accountedfor. It is unquestionable that the vibrations created by certain musicalinstruments have definite and sometimes extraordinary effect upon the nervoussystem. We accepted this as the explanation of the reactions we had experienced,hearing the unfamiliar sounds. Thora's nervousness, her superstitiousapprehensions, had wrought her up to a condition of semi-somnambulistic hysteria.Science could readily explain her part in the night's scene.
"We came to the conclusion that there must be a passageway between Ponapeand Nan-Tauach known to the natives— and used by them during their rites.We decided that on the next departure of our labourers we would set forthimmediately to Nan-Tauach. We would investigate during the day, and at eveningmy wife and Thora would go back to camp, leaving Stanton and me to spendthe night on the island, observing from some safe hiding-place what mightoccur.
"The moon waned; appeared crescent in the west; waxed slowly toward the full.Before the men left us they literally prayed us to accompany them. Theirimportunities only made us more eager to see what it was that, we were nowconvinced, they wanted to conceal from us. At least that was true of Stantonand myself. It was not true of Edith. She was thoughtful,abstracted— reluctant.
"When the men were out of sight around the turn of the harbour, we took ourboat and made straight for Nan-Tauach. Soon its mighty sea-wall towered aboveus. We passed through the water-gate with its gigantic hewn prisms of basaltand landed beside a half-submerged pier. In front of us stretched a seriesof giant steps leading into a vast court strewn with fragments of fallenpillars. In the centre of the court, beyond the shattered pillars, rose anotherterrace of basalt blocks, concealing, I knew, still another enclosure.
"And now, Walter, for the better understanding of whatfollows— and— and——" he hesitated. "Should you decide laterto return with me or, if I am taken, to— to— follow us— listencarefully to my description of this place: Nan-Tauach is literally threerectangles. The first rectangle is the sea-wall, built up of monoliths— hewnand squared, twenty feet wide at the top. To get to the gateway in the sea-wallyou pass along the canal marked on the map between Nan-Tauach and the isletnamed Tau. The entrance to the canal is hidden by dense thickets of mangroves;once through these the way is clear. The steps lead up from the landing ofthe sea-gate through the entrance to the courtyard.
"This courtyard is surrounded by another basalt wall, rectangular, followingwith mathematical exactness the march of the outer barricades. The sea-wallis from thirty to forty feet high— originally it must have been muchhigher, but there has been subsidence in parts. The wall of the first enclosureis fifteen feet across the top and its height varies from twenty to fiftyfeet— here, too, the gradual sinking of the land has caused portionsof it to fall.
"Within this courtyard is the second enclosure. Its terrace, of the samebasalt as the outer walls, is about twenty feet high. Entrance is gainedto it by many breaches which time has made in its stonework. This is theinner court, the heart of Nan-Tauach! There lies the great central vaultwith which is associated the one name of living being that has come to usout of the mists of the past. The natives say it was the treasure-house ofChau-te-leur, a mighty king who reigned long 'before their fathers.' As Chauis the ancient Ponapean word both for sun and king, the name means, withoutdoubt, 'place of the sun king.' It is a memory of a dynastic name of therace that ruled the Pacific continent, now vanished— just as the rulersof ancient Crete took the name of Minos and the rulers of Egypt the nameof Pharaoh.
"And opposite this place of the sun king is the moon rock that hides theMoon Pool.
"It was Stanton who discovered the moon rock. We had been inspecting theinner courtyard; Edith and Thora were getting together our lunch. I cameout of the vault of Chau-te-leur to find Stanton before a part of the terracestudying it wonderingly.
"'What do you make of this?' he asked me as I came up. He pointed to thewall. I followed his finger and saw a slab of stone about fifteen feet highand ten wide. At first all I noticed was the exquisite nicety with whichits edges joined the blocks about it. Then I realized that its colour wassubtly different— tinged with grey and of a smooth, peculiar— deadness.
"'Looks more like calcite than basalt,' I said. I touched it and withdrewmy hand quickly for at the contact every nerve in my arm tingled as thougha shock of frozen electricity had passed through it. It was not cold as weknow cold. It was a chill force— the phrase I have used— frozenelectricity— describes it better than anything else. Stanton looked atme oddly.
"'So you felt it too,' he said. 'I was wondering whether I was developinghallucinations like Thora. Notice, by the way, that the blocks beside itare quite warm beneath the sun.'
"We examined the slab eagerly. Its edges were cut as though by an engraverof jewels. They fitted against the neighbouring blocks in almost a hair-line.Its base was slightly curved, and fitted as closely as top and sides uponthe huge stones on which it rested. And then we noted that these stones hadbeen hollowed to follow the line of the grey stone's foot. There was asemicircular depression running from one side of the slab to the other. Itwas as though the grey rock stood in the centre of a shallow cup— revealinghalf, covering half. Something about this hollow attracted me. I reacheddown and felt it. Goodwin, although the balance of the stones that formedit, like all the stones of the courtyard, were rough and age-worn— thiswas as smooth, as even surfaced as though it had just left the hands of thepolisher.
"'It's a door!' exclaimed Stanton. 'It swings around in that little cup.That's what makes the hollow so smooth.'
"'Maybe you're right,' I replied. 'But how the devil can we open it?'
"We went over the slab again— pressing upon its edges, thrusting againstits sides. During one of those efforts I happened to look up— and criedout. A foot above and on each side of the corner of the grey rock's lintelwas a slight convexity, visible only from the angle at which my gaze struckit.
"We carried with us a small scaling-ladder and up this I went. The bosseswere apparently nothing more than chiseled curvatures in the stone. I laidmy hand on the one I was examining, and drew it back sharply. In my palm,at the base of my thumb, I had felt the same shock that I had in touchingthe slab below. I put my hand back. The impression came from a spot not morethan an inch wide. I went carefully over the entire convexity, and six timesmore the chill ran through my arm. There were seven circles an inch widein the curved place, each of which communicated the precise sensation I havedescribed. The convexity on the opposite side of the slab gave exactly thesame results. But no amount of touching or of pressing these spots singlyor in any combination gave the slightest promise of motion to the slab itself.
"'And yet— they're what open it,' said Stanton positively.
"'Why do you say that?' I asked.
"'I— don't know,' he answered hesitatingly. 'But something tells me so.Throck,' he went on half earnestly, half laughingly, 'the purely scientificpart of me is fighting the purely human part of me. The scientific part isurging me to find some way to get that slab either down or open. The humanpart is just as strongly urging me to do nothing of the sort and get awaywhile I can!'
"He laughed again— shamefacedly.
"'Which shall it be?' he asked— and I thought that in his tone the humanside of him was ascendant.
"'It will probably stay as it is— unless we blow it to bits,' I said.
"'I thought of that,' he answered, 'and I wouldn't dare,' he added soberlyenough. And even as I had spoken there came to me the same feeling that hehad expressed. It was as though something passed out of the grey rock thatstruck my heart as a hand strikes an impious lip. We turned away— uneasily,and faced Thora coming through a breach on the terrace.
"'Miss Edith wants you quick,' she began— and stopped. Her eyes wentpast me to the grey rock. Her body grew rigid; she took a few stiff stepsforward and then ran straight to it. She cast herself upon its breast, handsand face pressed against it; we heard her scream as though her very soulwere being drawn from her— and watched her fall at its foot. As we pickedher up I saw steal from her face the look I had observed when first we heardthe crystal music of Nan-Tauach— that unhuman mingling of opposites!"
CHAPTER IV
The First Vanishings
"We carried Thora back, down to where Edith was waiting. We told her whathad happened and what we had found. She listened gravely, and as we finishedThora sighed and opened her eyes.
"'I would like to see the stone,' she said. 'Charles, you stay here withThora.' We passed through the outer court silently— and stood beforethe rock. She touched it, drew back her hand as I had; thrust it forwardagain resolutely and held it there. She seemed to be listening. Then sheturned to me.
"'David,' said my wife, and the wistfulness in her voice hurt me— 'David,would you be very, very disappointed if we went from here— without tryingto find out any more about it— would you?'
"Walter, I never wanted anything so much in my life as I wanted to learnwhat that rock concealed. Nevertheless, I tried to master my desire, andI answered— 'Edith, not a bit if you want us to do it.'
"She read my struggle in my eyes. She turned back toward the grey rock. Isaw a shiver pass through her. I felt a tinge of remorse and pity!
"'Edith,' I exclaimed, 'we'll go!'
"She looked at me again. 'Science is a jealous mistress,' she quoted. 'No,after all it may be just fancy. At any rate, you can't run away. No! But,Dave, I'm going to stay too!'
"And there was no changing her decision. As we neared the others she laida hand on my arm.
"'Dave,' she said, 'if there should be something— well— inexplicabletonight— something that seems— too dangerous— will you promiseto go back to our own islet tomorrow, if we can— and wait until the nativesreturn?'
"I promised eagerly— the desire to stay and see what came with the nightwas like a fire within me.
"We picked a place about five hundred feet away from the steps leading intothe outer court.
"The spot we had selected was well hidden. We could not be seen, and yetwe had a clear view of the stairs and the gateway. We settled down just beforedusk to wait for whatever might come. I was nearest the giant steps; nextme Edith; then Thora, and last Stanton.
"Night fell. After a time the eastern sky began to lighten, and we knew thatthe moon was rising; grew lighter still, and the orb peeped over the sea;swam into full sight. I glanced at Edith and then at Thora. My wife was intentlylistening. Thora sat, as she had since we had placed ourselves, elbows onknees, her hands covering her face.
"And then from the moonlight flooding us there dripped down on me a greatdrowsiness. Sleep seemed to seep from the rays and fall upon my eyes, closingthem— closing them inexorably. Edith's hand in mine relaxed. Stanton'shead fell upon his breast and his body swayed drunkenly. I tried to rise— tofight against the profound desire for slumber that pressed on me.
"And as I fought, Thora raised her head as though listening; and turned towardthe gateway. There was infinite despair in her face— and expectancy.I tried again to rise— and a surge of sleep rushed over me. Dimly, asI sank within it, I heard a crystalline chiming; raised my lids once morewith a supreme effort.
"Thora, bathed in light, was standing at the top of the stairs.
"Sleep took me for its very own— swept me into the heart of oblivion!
"Dawn was breaking when I wakened. Recollection rushed back; I thrust apanic-stricken hand out toward Edith; touched her and my heart gave a greatleap of thankfulness. She stirred, sat up, rubbing dazed eyes. Stanton layon his side, back toward us, head in arms.
"Edith looked at me laughingly. 'Heavens! What sleep!' she said. Memory cameto her.
"'What happened?' she whispered. 'What made us sleep like that?'
"Stanton awoke.
"'What's the matter!' he exclaimed. 'You look as though you've been seeingghosts.'
"Edith caught my hands.
"'Where's Thora?' she cried. Before I could answer she had run out into theopen, calling.
"'Thora was taken,' was all I could say to Stanton. Together we went to mywife, now standing beside the great stone steps, looking up fearfully atthe gateway into the terraces. There I told them what I had seen before sleephad drowned me. And together then we ran up the stairs, through the courtand to the grey rock.
'The slab was closed as it had been the day before, nor was there trace ofits having opened. No trace? Even as I thought this Edith dropped to herknees before it and reached toward something lying at its foot. It was alittle piece of gay silk. I knew it for part of the kerchief Thora wore abouther hair. She lifted the fragment. It had been cut from the kerchief as thoughby a razor-edge; a few threads ran from it— down toward the base of theslab; ran on to the base of the grey rock and— under it!
"The grey rock was a door! And it had opened and Thora had passed throughit!
"I think that for the next few minutes we all were a little insane. We beatupon that portal with our hands, with stones and sticks. At last reason cameback to us.
"Goodwin, during the next two hours we tried every way in our power to forceentrance through the slab. The rock resisted our drills. We tried explosionsat the base with charges covered by rock. They made not the slightest impressionon the surface, expending their force, of course, upon the slighter resistanceof their coverings.
"Afternoon found us hopeless. Night was coming on and we would have to decideour course of action. I wanted to go to Ponape for help. But Edith objectedthat this would take hours and after we had reached there it would be impossibleto persuade our men to return with us that night, if at all. What then wasleft? Clearly only one of two choices: to go back to our camp, wait for ourmen, and on their return try to persuade them to go with us to Nan-Tauach.But this would mean the abandonment of Thora for at least two days. We couldnot do it; it would have been too cowardly.
"The other choice was to wait where we were for night to come; to wait forthe rock to open as it had the night before, and to make a sortie throughit for Thora before it could close again.
"Our path lay clear before us. We had to spend that night on Nan-Tauach!
"We had, of course, discussed the sleep phenomena very fully. If our theorythat lights, sounds, and Thora's disappearance were linked with secret religiousrites of the natives, the logical inference was that the slumber had beenproduced by them, perhaps by vapours— you know as well as I, whatextraordinary knowledge these Pacific peoples have of such things. Or thesleep might have been simply a coincidence and produced by emanations eithergaseous or from plants, natural causes which had happened to coincide intheir effects with the other manifestations. We made some rough and readybut effective respirators.
"As dusk fell we looked over our weapons. Edith was an excellent shot withboth rifle and pistol. We had decided that my wife was to remain in thehiding-place. Stanton would take up a station on the far side of the stairwayand I would place myself opposite him on the side near Edith. The place Ipicked out was less than two hundred feet from her, and I could reassuremyself now and then as to her safety as it looked down upon the hollow whereinshe crouched. From our respective stations Stanton and I could command thegateway entrance. His position gave him also a glimpse of the outer courtyard.
"A faint glow in the sky heralded the moon. Stanton and I took our places.The moon dawn increased rapidly; the disk swam up, and in a moment it wasshining in full radiance upon ruins and sea.
"As it rose there came a curious little sighing sound from the inner terrace.Stanton straightened up and stared intently through the gateway, rifle ready.
"'Stanton, what do you see?' I called cautiously. He waved a silencing hand.I turned my head to look at Edith. A shock ran through me. She lay upon herside. Her face, grotesque with its nose and mouth covered by the respirator,was turned full toward the moon. She was again in deepest sleep!
"As I turned again to call to Stanton, my eyes swept the head of the stepsand stopped, fascinated. For the moonlight had thickened. It seemed tobe— curdled— there; and through it ran little gleams and veins ofshimmering white fire. A languor passed through me. It was not the ineffabledrowsiness of the preceding night. It was a sapping of all will to move.I tried to cry out to Stanton. I had not even the will to move my lips.Goodwin— I could not even move my eyes!
"Stanton was in the range of my fixed vision. I watched him leap up the stepsand move toward the gateway. The curdled radiance seemed to await him. Hestepped into it— and was lost to my sight.
"For a dozen heart beats there was silence. Then a rain of tinklings thatset the pulses racing with joy and at once checked them with tiny fingersof ice— and ringing through them Stanton's voice from the courtyard— agreat cry— a scream— filled with ecstasy insupportable and horrorunimaginable! And once more there was silence. I strove to burst the bondsthat held me. I could not. Even my eyelids were fixed. Within them my eyes,dry and aching, burned.
"Then Goodwin— I first saw the— inexplicable! The crystalline musicswelled. Where I sat I could take in the gateway and its basalt portals,rough and broken, rising to the top of the wall forty feet above, shattered,ruined portals— unclimbable. From this gateway an intenser light beganto flow. It grew, it gushed, and out of it walked Stanton.
"Stanton! But— God! What a vision!"
A deep tremor shook him. I waited— waited.
CHAPTER V
Into the Moon Pool
"Goodwin," Throckmartin went on at last, "I can describe him only as a thingof living light. He radiated light; was filled with light; overflowed withit. A shining cloud whirled through and around him in radiant swirls, shimmeringtentacles, luminescent, coruscating spirals.
"His face shone with a rapture too great to be borne by living man, and wasshadowed with insuperable misery. It was as though it had been remouldedby the hand of God and the hand of Satan, working together and in harmony.You have seen that seal upon my own. But you have never seen it in the degreethat Stanton bore it. The eyes were wide open and fixed, as though upon someinward vision of hell and heaven!
"The light that filled and surrounded him had a nucleus, a core— somethingshiftingly human shaped— that dissolved and changed, gathered itself,whirled through and beyond him and back again. And as its shining nucleuspassed through him Stanton's whole body pulsed radiance. As the luminescencemoved, there moved above it, still and serene always, seven tiny globes ofseven colors, like seven little moons.
"Then swiftly Stanton was lifted— levitated— up the unscalable walland to its top. The glow faded from the moonlight, the tinkling music grewfainter. I tried again to move. The tears were running down now from my rigidlids and they brought relief to my tortured eyes.
"I have said my gaze was fixed. It was. But from the side, peripherally,it took in a part of the far wall of the outer enclosure. Ages seemed topass and a radiance stole along it. Soon drifted into sight the figure thatwas Stanton. Far away he was— on the gigantic wall. But still I couldsee the shining spirals whirling jubilantly around and through him; feltrather than saw his tranced face beneath the seven moons. A swirl of crystalnotes, and he had passed. And all the time, as though from some opened wellof light, the courtyard gleamed and sent out silver fires that dimmed themoonrays, yet seemed strangely to be a part of them.
"At last the moon neared the horizon. There came a louder burst of sound;the second, and last, cry of Stanton, like an echo of his first! Again thesoft sighing from the inner terrace. Then— utter silence!
"The light faded; the moon was setting and with a rush life and power tomove returned to me. I made a leap for the steps, rushed up them, throughthe gateway and straight to the grey rock. It was closed— as I knew itwould be. But did I dream it or did I hear, echoing through it as thoughfrom vast distances a triumphant shouting?
"I ran back to Edith. At my touch she wakened; looked at me wanderingly;raised herself on a hand.
"'Dave!' she said, 'I slept— after all.' She saw the despair on my faceand leaped to her feet. 'Dave!' she cried. 'What is it? Where's Charles?'
"I lighted a fire before I spoke. Then I told her. And for the balance ofthat night we sat before the flames, arms around each other— like twofrightened children."
Abruptly Throckmartin held his hands out to me appealingly.
"Walter, old friend!" he cried. "Don't look at me as though I were mad. It'struth, absolute truth. Wait——" I comforted him as well as I could.After a little time he took up his story.
"Never," he said, "did man welcome the sun as we did that morning. A soonas it had risen we went back to the courtyard. The walls whereon I had seenStanton were black and silent. The terraces were as they had been. The greyslab was in its place. In the shallow hollow at its base was— nothing.Nothing— nothing was there anywhere on the islet of Stanton— nota trace.
"What were we to do? Precisely the same arguments that had kept us therethe night before held good now— and doubly good. We could not abandonthese two; could not go as long as there was the faintest hope of findingthem— and yet for love of each other how could we remain? I loved mywife,— how much I never knew until that day; and she loved me as deeply.
"'It takes only one each night,' she pleaded. 'Beloved, let it take me.'
"I wept, Walter. We both wept.
"'We will meet it together,' she said. And it was thus at last that we arrangedit."
"That took great courage indeed, Throckmartin," I interrupted. He lookedat me eagerly.
"You do believe then?" he exclaimed.
"I believe," I said. He pressed my hand with a grip that nearly crushed it.
"Now," he told me. "I do not fear. If I— fail, you will follow with help?"
I promised.
"We talked it over carefully," he went on, "bringing to bear all our powerof analysis and habit of calm, scientific thought. We considered minutelythe time element in the phenomena. Although the deep chanting began at thevery moment of moonrise, fully five minutes had passed between its full liftingand the strange sighing sound from the inner terrace. I went back in memoryover the happenings of the night before. At least ten minutes had intervenedbetween the first heralding sigh and the intensification of the moonlightin the courtyard. And this glow grew for at least ten minutes more beforethe first burst of the crystal notes. Indeed, more than half an hour musthave elapsed, I calculated, between the moment the moon showed above thehorizon and the first delicate onslaught of the tinklings.
"'Edith!' I cried. 'I think I have it! The grey rock opens five minutes afterupon the moonrise. But whoever or whatever it is that comes through it mustwait until the moon has risen higher, or else it must come from a distance.The thing to do is not to wait for it, but to surprise it before it passesout the door. We will go into the inner court early. You will take your rifleand pistol and hide yourself where you can command the opening— if theslab does open. The instant it opens I will enter. It's our best chance,Edith. I think it's our only one.'
"My wife demurred strongly. She wanted to go with me. But I convinced herthat it was better for her to stand guard without, prepared to help me ifI were forced again into the open by what lay behind the rock.
"At the half-hour before moonrise we went into the inner court. I took myplace at the side of the grey rock. Edith crouched behind a broken pillartwenty feet away; slipped her rifle-barrel over it so that it would coverthe opening.
"The minutes crept by. The darkness lessened and through the breaches ofthe terrace I watched the far sky softly lighten. With the first pale flushthe silence of the place intensified. It deepened; becameunbearably— expectant. The moon rose, showed the quarter, the half, thenswam up into full sight like a great bubble.
"Its rays fell upon the wall before me and suddenly upon the convexitiesI have described seven little circles of light sprang out. They gleamed,glimmered, grew brighter— shone. The gigantic slab before me glowed withthem, silver wavelets of phosphorescence pulsed over its surface andthen— it turned as though on a pivot, sighing softly as it moved!
"With a word to Edith I flung myself through the opening. A tunnel stretchedbefore me. It glowed with the same faint silvery radiance. Down it I raced.The passage turned abruptly, passed parallel to the walls of the outer courtyardand then once more led downward.
"The passage ended. Before me was a high vaulted arch. It seemed to openinto space; a space filled with lambent, coruscating, many-coloured mistwhose brightness grew even as I watched. I passed through the arch and stoppedin sheer awe!
"In front of me was a pool. It was circular, perhaps twenty feet wide. Aroundit ran a low, softly curved lip of glimmering silvery stone. Its water waspalest blue. The pool with its silvery rim was like a great blue eye staringupward.
"Upon it streamed seven shafts of radiance. They poured down upon the blueeye like cylindrical torrents; they were like shining pillars of light risingfrom a sapphire floor.
"One was the tender pink of the pearl; one of the aurora's green; a thirda deathly white; the fourth the blue in mother-of-pearl; a shimmering columnof pale amber; a beam of amethyst; a shaft of molten silver. Such are thecolours of the seven lights that stream upon the Moon Pool. I drew closer,awestricken. The shafts did not illumine the depths. They played upon thesurface and seemed there to diffuse, to melt into it. The Pool drank them?
"Through the water tiny gleams of phosphorescence began to dart, sparklesand coruscations of pale incandescence. And far, far below I sensed a movement,a shifting glow as of a radiant body slowly rising.
"I looked upward, following the radiant pillars to their source. Far abovewere seven shining globes, and it was from these that the rays poured. Evenas I watched their brightness grew. They were like seven moons set high insome caverned heaven. Slowly their splendour increased, and with it the splendourof the seven beams streaming from them.
"I tore my gaze away and stared at the Pool. It had grown milky, opalescent.The rays gushing into it seemed to be filling it; it was alive with sparklings,scintillations, glimmerings. And the luminescence I had seen rising fromits depths was larger, nearer!
"A swirl of mist floated up from its surface. It drifted within the embraceof the rosy beam and hung there for a moment. The beam seemed to embraceit, sending through it little shining corpuscles, tiny rosy spiralings. Themist absorbed the rays, was strengthened by them, gained substance. Anotherswirl sprang into the amber shaft, clung and fed there, moved swiftly towardthe first and mingled with it. And now other swirls arose, here and there,too fast to be counted; hung poised in the embrace of the light streams;flashed and pulsed into each other.
"Thicker and thicker still they arose until over the surface of the Poolwas a pulsating pillar of opalescent mist steadily growing stronger; drawingwithin it life from the seven beams falling upon it; drawing to it from belowthe darting, incandescent atoms of the Pool. Into its centre was passingthe luminescence rising from the far depths. And the pillar glowed,throbbed— began to send out questing swirls and tendrils——
"There forming before me was That which had walked with Stanton, which hadtaken Thora— the thing I had come to find!
"My brain sprang into action. My hand threw up the pistol and I fired shotafter shot into the shining core.
"As I fired, it swayed and shook; gathered again. I slipped a second clipinto the automatic and another idea coming to me took careful aim at oneof the globes in the roof. From thence I knew came the force that shapedthis Dweller in the Pool— from the pouring rays came its strength. IfI could destroy them I could check its forming. I fired again and again.If I hit the globes I did no damage. The little motes in their beams dancedwith the motes in the mist, troubled. That was all.
"But up from the Pool like little bells, like tiny bursting bubbles of glass,swarmed the tinkling sounds— their pitch higher, all their sweetnesslost, angry.
"And out from the Inexplicable swept a shining spiral.
"It caught me above the heart; wrapped itself around me. There rushed throughme a mingled ecstasy and horror. Every atom of me quivered with delight andshrank with despair. There was nothing loathsome in it. But it was as thoughthe icy soul of evil and the fiery soul of good had stepped together withinme. The pistol dropped from my hand.
"So I stood while the Pool gleamed and sparkled; the streams of light grewmore intense and the radiant Thing that held me gleamed and strengthened.Its shining core had shape— but a shape that my eyes and brain couldnot define. It was as though a being of another sphere should assume whatit might of human semblance, but was not able to conceal that what humaneyes saw was but a part of it. It was neither man nor woman; it was unearthlyand androgynous. Even as I found its human semblance it changed. And stillthe mingled rapture and terror held me. Only in a little corner of my braindwelt something untouched; something that held itself apart and watched.Was it the soul? I have never believed— and yet——
"Over the head of the misty body there sprang suddenly out seven little lights.Each was the colour of the beam beneath which it rested. I knew now thatthe Dweller was— complete!
"I heard a scream. It was Edith's voice. It came to me that she had heardthe shots and followed me. I felt every faculty concentrate into a mightyeffort. I wrenched myself free from the gripping tentacle and it swept back.I turned to catch Edith, and as I did so slipped— fell.
"The radiant shape above the Pool leaped swiftly— and straight into itraced Edith, arms outstretched to shield me from it! God!
"She threw herself squarely within its splendour," he whispered. "It wrappedits shining self around her. The crystal tinklings burst forth jubilantly.The light filled her, ran through and around her as it had with Stanton;and dropped down upon her face— the look!
"But her rush had taken her to the very verge of the Moon Pool. She tottered;she fell— with the radiance still holding her, still swirling and windingaround and through her— into the Moon Pool! She sank, and with herwent— the Dweller!
"I dragged myself to the brink. Far down was a shining, many-coloured nebulouscloud descending; out of it peered Edith's face, disappearing; her eyes staredup at me— and she vanished!
"'Edith!' I cried again. 'Edith, come back to me!'
"And then a darkness fell upon me. I remember running back through the shimmeringcorridors and out into the courtyard. Reason had left me. When it returnedI was far out at sea in our boat wholly estranged from civilization. A daylater I was picked up by the schooner in which I came to Port Moresby.
"I have formed a plan; you must hear it, Goodwin——" He fell uponhis berth. I bent over him. Exhaustion and the relief of telling his storyhad been too much for him. He slept like the dead.
All that night I watched over him. When dawn broke I went to my room to geta little sleep myself. But my slumber was haunted.
The next day the storm was unabated. Throckmartin came to me at lunch. Hehad regained much of his old alertness.
"Come to my cabin," he said. There, he stripped his shirt from him. "Somethingis happening," he said. "The mark is smaller." It was as he said.
"I'm escaping," he whispered jubilantly, "Just let me get to Melbourne safely,and then we'll see who'll win! For, Walter, I'm not at all sure that Edithis dead— as we know death— nor that the others are. There is somethingoutside experience there— some great mystery."
And all that day he talked to me of his plans.
"There's a natural explanation, of course," he said. "My theory is that themoon rock is of some composition sensitive to the action of moon rays; somewhatas the metal selenium is to sun rays. The little circles over the top are,without doubt, its operating agency. When the light strikes them they releasethe mechanism that opens the slab, just as you can open doors with sun orelectric light by an ingenious arrangement of selenium-cells. Apparentlyit takes the strength of the full moon both to do this and to summon theDweller in the Pool. We will first try a concentration of the rays of thewaning moon upon these circles to see whether that will open the rock. Ifit does we will be able to investigate the Pool without interruptionfrom— from— what emanates.
"Look, here on the chart are their locations. I have made this in duplicatefor you in the event— of something happening— to me. And if Ilose— you'll come after us, Goodwin, with help— won't you?"
And again I promised.
A little later he complained of increasing sleepiness.
"But it's just weariness," he said. "Not at all like that other drowsiness.It's an hour till moonrise still," he yawned at last. "Wake me up a goodfifteen minutes before."
He lay upon the berth. I sat thinking. I came to myself with a guilty start.I had completely lost myself in my deep preoccupation. What time was it?I looked at my watch and jumped to the port-hole. It was full moonlight;the orb had been up for fully half an hour. I strode over to Throckmartinand shook him by the shoulder.
"Up, quick, man!" I cried. He rose sleepily. His shirt fell open at the neckand I looked, in amazement, at the white band around his chest. Even underthe electric light it shone softly, as though little flecks of light werein it.
Throckmartin seemed only half-awake. He looked down at his breast, saw theglowing cincture, and smiled.
"Yes," he said drowsily, "it's coming— to take me back to Edith! Well,I'm glad."
"Throckmartin!" I cried. "Wake up! Fight!"
"Fight!" he said. "No use; come after us!"
He went to the port and sleepily drew aside the curtain. The moon traceda broad path of light straight to the ship. Under its rays the band aroundhis chest gleamed brighter and brighter; shot forth little rays; seemed towrithe.
The lights went out in the cabin; evidently also throughout the ship, forI heard shoutings above.
Throckmartin still stood at the open port. Over his shoulder I saw a gleamingpillar racing along the moon path toward us. Through the window cascadeda blinding radiance. It gathered Throckmartin to it, clothed him in a robeof living opalescence. Light pulsed through and from him. The cabin filledwith murmurings——
A wave of weakness swept over me, buried me in blackness. When consciousnesscame back, the lights were again burning brightly.
But of Throckmartin there was no trace!
CHAPTER VI
"The Shining Devil Took Them!"
My colleagues of the Association, and you others who may read this my narrative,for what I did and did not when full realization returned I must offer here,briefly as I can, an explanation; a defense— if you will.
My first act was to spring to the open port. The coma had lasted hours, forthe moon was now low in the west! I ran to the door to sound the alarm. Itresisted under my frantic hands; would not open. Something fell tinklingto the floor. It was the key and I remembered then that Throckmartin hadturned it before we began our vigil. With memory a hope died that I had notknown was in me, the hope that he had escaped from the cabin, found refugeelsewhere on the ship.
And as I stooped, fumbling with shaking fingers for the key, a thought cameto me that drove again the blood from my heart, held me rigid. I could soundno alarm on the Southern Queen for Throckmartin!
Conviction of my appalling helplessness was complete. The ensembleof the vessel from captain to cabin boy was, to put it conservatively, average.None, I knew, save Throckmartin and myself had seen the first apparitionof the Dweller. Had they witnessed the second? I did not know, nor couldI risk speaking, not knowing. And not seeing, how could they believe? Theywould have thought me insane— or worse; even, it might be, his murderer.
I snapped off the electrics; waited and listened; opened the door with infinitecaution and slipped, unseen, into my own stateroom. The hours until the dawnwere eternities of waking nightmare. Reason, resuming sway at last, steadiedme. Even had I spoken and been believed where in these wastes after all thehours could we search for Throckmartin? Certainly the captain would not turnback to Port Moresby. And even if he did, of what use for me to set forthfor the Nan-Matal without the equipment which Throckmartin himself had decidedwas necessary if one hoped to cope with the mystery that lurked there?
There was but one thing to do— follow his instructions; get the paraphernaliain Melbourne or Sydney if it were possible; if not sail to America as swiftlyas might be, secure it there and as swiftly return to Ponape. And this Idetermined to do.
Calmness came back to me after I had made this decision. And when I wentup on deck I knew that I had been right. They had not seen the Dweller. Theywere still discussing the darkening of the ship, talking of dynamos burnedout, wires short circuited, a half dozen explanations of the extinguishment.Not until noon was Throckmartin's absence discovered. I told the captainthat I had left him early in the evening; that, indeed, I knew him but slightly,after all. It occurred to none to doubt me, or to question me minutely. Whyshould it have? His strangeness had been noted, commented upon; all who hadmet him had thought him half mad. I did little to discourage the impression.And so it came naturally that on the log it was entered that he had fallenor leaped from the vessel some time during the night.
A report to this effect was made when we entered Melbourne. I slipped quietlyashore and in the press of the war news Throckmartin's supposed fate wononly a few lines in the newspapers; my own presence on the ship and in thecity passed unnoticed.
I was fortunate in securing at Melbourne everything I needed except a setof Becquerel ray condensers— but these were the very keystone of myequipment. Pursuing my search to Sydney I was doubly fortunate in findinga firm who were expecting these very articles in a consignment due them fromthe States within a fortnight. I settled down in strictest seclusion to awaittheir arrival.
And now it will occur to you to ask why I did not cable, during this periodof waiting, to the Association; demand aid from it. Or why I did not callupon members of the University staffs of either Melbourne or Sydney forassistance. At the least, why I did not gather, as Throckmartin had hopedto do, a little force of strong men to go with me to the Nan-Matal.
To the first two questions I answer frankly— I did not dare. And thisreluctance, this inhibition, every man jealous of his scientific reputationwill understand. The story of Throckmartin, the happenings I had myselfwitnessed, were incredible, abnormal, outside the facts of all known science.I shrank from the inevitable disbelief, perhaps ridicule— nay, perhapseven the graver suspicion that had caused me to seal my lips while on theship. Why I myself could only half believe! How then could I hope to convinceothers?
And as for the third question— I could not take men into the range ofsuch a peril without first warning them of what they might encounter; andif I did warn them——
It was checkmate! If it also was cowardice— well, I have atoned for it.But I do not hold it so; my conscience is clear.
That fortnight and the greater part of another passed before the ship I awaitedsteamed into port. By that time, between my straining anxiety to be afterThrockmartin, the despairing thought that every moment of delay might bevital to him and his, and my intensely eager desire to know whether thatshining, glorious horror on the moon path did exist or had been hallucination,I was worn almost to the edge of madness.
At last the condensers were in my hands. It was more than a week later, however,before I could secure passage back to Port Moresby and it was another weekstill before I started north on the Suwarna, a swift little sloopwith a fifty-horsepower auxiliary, heading straight for Ponape and the Nan-Matal.
We sighted the Brunhilda some five hundred miles south of the Carolines.The wind had fallen soon after Papua had dropped astern. The Suwarna'sability to make her twelve knots an hour without it had made me very fullyforgive her for not being as fragrant as the Javan flower for which she wasnamed. Da Costa, her captain, was a garrulous Portuguese; his mate was aCanton man with all the marks of long and able service on some pirate junk;his engineer was a half-breed China-Malay who had picked up his knowledgeof power plants, Heaven alone knew where, and, I had reason to believe, hadtransferred all his religious impulses to the American built deity of mechanismhe so faithfully served. The crew was made up of six huge, chattering Tongaboys.
The Suwarna had cut through Finschafen Huon Gulf to the protectionof the Bismarcks. She had threaded the maze of the archipelago tranquilly,and we were then rolling over the thousand-mile stretch of open ocean withNew Hanover far behind us and our boat's bow pointed straight toward Nukuorof the Monte Verdes. After we had rounded Nukuor we should, barring accident,reach Ponape in not more than sixty hours.
It was late afternoon, and on the demure little breeze that marched behindus came far-flung sighs of spice-trees and nutmeg flowers. The slow prodigiousswells of the Pacific lifted us in gentle, giant hands and sent us as gentlydown the long, blue wave slopes to the next broad, upward slope. There wasa spell of peace over the ocean, stilling even the Portuguese captain whostood dreamily at the wheel, slowly swaying to the rhythmic lift and fallof the sloop.
There came a whining hail from the Tonga boy lookout draped lazily over thebow.
"Sail he b'long port side!"
Da Costa straightened and gazed while I raised my glass. The vessel was ascant mile away, and must have been visible long before the sleepy watcherhad seen her. She was a sloop about the size of the Suwarna, withoutpower. All sails set, even to a spinnaker she carried, she was making thebest of the little breeze. I tried to read her name, but the vessel jibedsharply as though the hands of the man at the wheel had suddenly droppedthe helm— and then with equal abruptness swung back to her course. Thestern came in sight, and on it I read Brunhilda.
I shifted my glasses to the man at wheel. He was crouching down over thespokes in a helpless, huddled sort of way, and even as I looked the vesselveered again, abruptly as before. I saw the helmsman straighten up and bringthe wheel about with a vicious jerk.
He stood so for a moment, looking straight ahead, entirely oblivious of us,and then seemed again to sink down within himself. It came to me that hiswas the action of a man striving vainly against a weariness unutterable.I swept the deck with my glasses. There was no other sign of life. I turnedto find the Portuguese staring intently and with puzzled air at the sloop,now separated from us by a scant half mile.
"Something veree wrong I think there, sair," he said in his curious English."The man on deck I know. He is captain and owner of the Br-rwun'ild.His name Olaf Huldricksson, what you say— Norwegian. He is eithair vereesick or veree tired— but I do not undweerstand where is the crew andthe starb'd boat is gone——"
He shouted an order to the engineer and as he did so the faint breeze failedand the sails of the Brunhilda flapped down inert. We were now nearlyabreast and a scant hundred yards away. The engine of the Suwarnadied and the Tonga boys leaped to one of the boats.
"You Olaf Huldricksson!" shouted Da Costa. "What's a matter wit' you?"
The man at the wheel turned toward us. He was a giant; his shoulders enormous,thick chested, strength in every line of him, he towered like a viking ofold at the rudder bar of his shark ship.
I raised the glass again; his face sprang into the lens and never have Iseen a visage lined and marked as though by ages of unsleeping misery aswas that of Olaf Huldricksson!
The Tonga boys had the boat alongside and were waiting at the oars. The littlecaptain was dropping into it.
"Wait!" I cried. I ran into my cabin, grasped my emergency medical kit andclimbed down the rope ladder. The Tonga boys bent to the oars. We reachedthe side and Da Costa and I each seized a lanyard dangling from the staysand swung ourselves on board. Da Costa approached Huldricksson softly.
"What's the matter, Olaf?" he began— and then was silent, looking downat the wheel. The hands of Huldricksson were lashed fast to the spokes bythongs of thin, strong cord; they were swollen and black and the thongs hadbitten into the sinewy wrists till they were hidden in the outraged flesh,cutting so deeply that blood fell, slow drop by drop, at his feet! We sprangtoward him, reaching out hands to his fetters to loose them. Even as we touchedthem, Huldricksson aimed a vicious kick at me and then another at Da Costawhich sent the Portuguese tumbling into the scuppers.
"Let be!" croaked Huldricksson; his voice was thick and lifeless as thoughforced from a dead throat; his lips were cracked and dry and his parchedtongue was black. "Let be! Go! Let be!"
The Portuguese had picked himself up, whimpering with rage and knife in hand,but as Huldricksson's voice reached him he stopped. Amazement crept intohis eyes and as he thrust the blade back into his belt they softened withpity.
"Something veree wrong wit' Olaf," he murmured to me. "I think he crazee!"And then Olaf Huldricksson began to curse us. He did not speak— he howledfrom that hideously dry mouth his imprecations. And all the time his redeyes roamed the seas and his hands, clenched and rigid on the wheel, droppedblood.
"I go below," said Da Costa nervously. "His wife, his daughter——"he darted down the companionway and was gone.
Huldricksson, silent once more, had slumped down over the wheel.
Da Costa's head appeared at the top of the companion steps.
"There is nobody, nobody," he paused— then— "nobody— nowhere!"His hands flew out in a gesture of hopeless incomprehension. "I do notunderstan'."
Then Olaf Huldricksson opened his dry lips and as he spoke a chill ran throughme, checking my heart.
"The sparkling devil took them!" croaked Olaf Huldricksson, "the sparklingdevil took them! Took my Helma and my little Freda! The sparkling devil camedown from the moon and took them!"
He swayed; tears dripped down his cheeks. Da Costa moved toward him againand again Huldricksson watched him, alertly, wickedly, from his bloodshoteyes.
I took a hypodermic from my case and filled it with morphine. I drew Da Costato me.
"Get to the side of him," I whispered, "talk to him." He moved over towardthe wheel.
"Where is your Helma and Freda, Olaf?" he said.
Huldricksson turned his head toward him. "The shining devil took them," hecroaked. "The moon devil that spark——"
A yell broke from him. I had thrust the needle into his arm just above oneswollen wrist and had quickly shot the drug through. He struggled to releasehimself and then began to rock drunkenly. The morphine, taking him in hisweakness, worked quickly. Soon over his face a peace dropped. The pupilsof the staring eyes contracted. Once, twice, he swayed and then, his bleeding,prisoned hands held high and still gripping the wheel, he crumpled to thedeck.
With utmost difficulty we loosed the thongs, but at last it was done. Werigged a little swing and the Tonga boys slung the great inert body overthe side into the dory. Soon we had Huldricksson in my bunk. Da Costa senthalf his crew over to the sloop in charge of the Cantonese. They took inall sail, stripping Huldricksson's boat to the masts and then with theBrunhilda nosing quietly along after us at the end of a long hawser,one of the Tonga boys at her wheel, we resumed the way so enigmaticallyinterrupted.
I cleansed and bandaged the Norseman's lacerated wrists and sponged theblackened, parched mouth with warm water and a mild antiseptic.
Suddenly I was aware of Da Costa's presence and turned. His unease was manifestand held, it seemed to me, a queer, furtive anxiety.
"What you think of Olaf, sair?" he asked. I shrugged my shoulders. "You thinkhe killed his woman and his babee?" He went on. "You think he crazee andkilled all?"
"Nonsense, Da Costa," I answered. "You saw the boat was gone. Most probablyhis crew mutinied and to torture him tied him up the way you saw. They didthe same thing with Hilton of the Coral Lady; you'll remember."
"No," he said. "No. The crew did not. Nobody there on board when Olaf wastied."
"What!" I cried, startled. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he said slowly, "that Olaf tie himself!"
"Wait!" he went on at my incredulous gesture of dissent. "Wait, I show you."He had been standing with hands behind his back and now I saw that he heldin them the cut thongs that had bound Huldricksson. They were blood-stainedand each ended in a broad leather tip skilfully spliced into the cord. "Look,"he said, pointing to these leather ends. I looked and saw in them deepindentations of teeth. I snatched one of the thongs and opened the mouthof the unconscious man on the bunk. Carefully I placed the leather withinit and gently forced the jaws shut on it. It was true. Those marks were whereOlaf Huldricksson's jaws had gripped.
"Wait!" Da Costa repeated, "I show you." He took other cords and rested hishands on the supports of a chair back. Rapidly he twisted one of the thongsaround his left hand, drew a loose knot, shifted the cord up toward his elbow.This left wrist and hand still free and with them he twisted the other cordaround the right wrist; drew a similar knot. His hands were now in the exactposition that Huldricksson's had been on the Brunhilda but with cordsand knots hanging loose. Then Da Costa reached down his head, took a leatherend in his teeth and with a jerk drew the thong that noosed his left handtight; similarly he drew tight the second.
He strained at his fetters. There before my eyes he had pinioned himselfso that without aid he could not release himself. And he was exactly asHuldricksson had been!
"You will have to cut me loose, sair," he said. "I cannot move them. It isan old trick on these seas. Sometimes it is necessary that a man stand atthe wheel many hours without help, and he does this so that if he sleep thewheel wake him, yes, sair."
I looked from him to the man on the bed.
"But why, sair," said Da Costa slowly, "did Olaf have to tie his hands?"
I looked at him, uneasily.
"I don't know," I answered. "Do you?"
He fidgeted, avoided my eyes, and then rapidly, almost surreptitiously crossedhimself.
"No," he replied. "I know nothing. Some things I have heard— but theytell many tales on these seas."
He started for the door. Before he reached it he turned. "But this I do know,"he half whispered, "I am damned glad there is no full moon tonight." Andpassed out, leaving me staring after him in amazement. What did the Portugueseknow?
I bent over the sleeper. On his face was no trace of that unholy minglingof opposites the Dweller stamped upon its victims.
And yet— what was it the Norseman had said?
"The sparkling devil took them!" Nay, he had been even more explicit— "Thesparkling devil that came down from the moon!"
Could it be that the Dweller had swept upon the Brunhilda, drawingdown the moon path Olaf Huldricksson's wife and babe even as it had drawnThrockmartin?
As I sat thinking the cabin grew suddenly dark and from above came a shoutingand patter of feet. Down upon us swept one of the abrupt, violent squallsthat are met with in those latitudes. I lashed Huldricksson fast in the berthand ran up on deck.
The long, peaceful swells had changed into angry, choppy waves from the topsof which the spindrift streamed in long stinging lashes.
A half-hour passed; the squall died as quickly as it had arisen. The seaquieted. Over in the west, from beneath the tattered, flying edge of thestorm, dropped the red globe of the setting sun; dropped slowly until ittouched the sea rim.
I watched it— and rubbed my eyes and stared again. For over its flamingportal something huge and black moved, like a gigantic beckoning finger!
Da Costa had seen it, too, and he turned the Suwarna straight towardthe descending orb and its strange shadow. As we approached we saw it wasa little mass of wreckage and that the beckoning finger was a wing of canvas,sticking up and swaying with the motion of the waves. On the highest pointof the wreckage sat a tall figure calmly smoking a cigarette.
We brought the Suwarna to, dropped a boat, and with myself as coxswainpulled toward a wrecked hydroairplane. Its occupant took a long puff at hiscigarette, waved a cheerful hand, shouted a greeting. And just as he didso a great wave raised itself up behind him, took the wreckage, tossed ithigh in a swelter of foam, and passed on. When we had steadied our boat,where wreck and man had been was— nothing.
There came a tug at the side — , two muscular brown hands gripped itclose to my left, and a sleek, black, wet head showed its top between them.Two bright, blue eyes that held deep within them a laughing deviltry lookedinto mine, and a long, lithe body drew itself gently over the thwart andseated its dripping self at my feet.
"Much obliged," said this man from the sea. "I knew somebody was sure tocome along when the O'Keefe banshee didn't show up."
"The what?" I asked in amazement.
"The O'Keefe banshee— I'm Larry O'Keefe. It's a far way from Ireland,but not too far for the O'Keefe banshee to travel if the O'Keefe was goingto click in."
I looked again at my astonishing rescue. He seemed perfectly serious.
"Have you a cigarette? Mine went out," he said with a grin, as he reacheda moist hand out for the little cylinder, took it, lighted it.
I saw a lean, intelligent face whose fighting jaw was softened by the wistfulnessof the clean-cut lips and the honesty that lay side by side with the deviltryin the laughing blue eyes; nose of a thoroughbred with the suspicion of atilt; long, well-knit, slender figure that I knew must have all the strengthof fine steel; the uniform of a lieutenant in the Royal Flying Corps of Britain'snavy.
He laughed, stretched out a firm hand, and gripped mine.
"Thank you really ever so much, old man," he said.
I liked Larry O'Keefe from the beginning— but I did not dream as theTonga boys pulled us back to the Suwarna how that liking was to beforged into man's strong love for man by fires which souls such as his andmine— and yours who read this— could never dream.
Larry! Larry O'Keefe, where are you now with your leprechauns and banshee,your heart of a child, your laughing blue eyes, and your fearless soul? ShallI ever see you again, Larry O'Keefe, dear to me as some best beloved youngerbrother? Larry!
CHAPTER VII
Larry O'Keefe
Pressing back the questions I longed to ask, I introduced myself. Oddly enough,I found that he knew me, or rather my work. He had bought, it appeared, myvolume upon the peculiar vegetation whose habitat is disintegrating lavarock and volcanic ash, that I had entitled, somewhat loosely, I could nowperceive, Flora of the Craters. For he explained naively that he hadpicked it up, thinking it an entirely different sort of a book, a novel infact— something like Meredith's Diana of the Crossways, whichhe liked greatly.
He had hardly finished this explanation when we touched the side of theSuwarna, and I was forced to curb my curiosity until we reached thedeck.
"That thing you saw me sitting on," he said, after he had thanked the bowinglittle skipper for his rescue, "was all that was left of one of his Majesty'sbest little hydroairplanes after that cyclone threw it off as excess baggage.And by the way, about where are we?"
Da Costa gave him our approximate position from the noon reckoning.
O'Keefe whistled. "A good three hundred miles from where I left the H.M.S.Dolphin about four hours ago," he said. "That squall I rode in onwas some whizzer!
"The Dolphin," he went on, calmly divesting himself of his soakeduniform, "was on her way to Melbourne. I'd been yearning for a joy ride andwent up for an alleged scouting trip. Then that blow shot out of nowhere,picked me up, and insisted that I go with it.
"About an hour ago I thought I saw a chance to zoom up and out of it. I turned,and blick went my right wing, and down I dropped."
"I don't know how we can notify your ship, Lieutenant O'Keefe," I said. "Wehave no wireless."
"Doctair Goodwin," said Da Costa, "we could change our course,sair— perhaps——"
"Thanks— but not a bit of it," broke in O'Keefe. "Lord alone knows wherethe Dolphin is now. Fancy she'll be nosing around looking for me.Anyway, she's just as apt to run into you as you into her. Maybe we'll strikesomething with a wireless, and I'll trouble you to put me aboard." He hesitated."Where are you bound, by the way?" he asked.
"For Ponape," I answered.
"No wireless there," mused O'Keefe. "Beastly hole. Stopped a week ago forfruit. Natives seemed scared to death at us— or something. What are yougoing there for?"
Da Costa darted a furtive glance at me. It troubled me.
O'Keefe noted my hesitation.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," he said. "Maybe I oughn't to have asked that?"
"It's no secret, Lieutenant," I replied. "I'm about to undertake some explorationwork— a little digging among the ruins on the Nan-Matal."
I looked at the Portuguese sharply as I named the place. A pallor crept beneathhis skin and again he made swiftly the sign of the cross, glancing as hedid so fearfully to the north. I made up my mind then to question him whenopportunity came. He turned from his quick scrutiny of the sea and addressedO'Keefe.
"There's nothing on board to fit you, Lieutenant."
"Oh, just give me a sheet to throw around me, Captain," said O'Keefe andfollowed him. Darkness had fallen, and as the two disappeared into Da Costa'scabin I softly opened the door of my own and listened. Huldricksson was breathingdeeply and regularly.
I drew my electric-flash, and shielding its rays from my face, looked athim. His sleep was changing from the heavy stupor of the drug into one thatwas at least on the borderland of the normal. The tongue had lost its aridblackness and the mouth secretions had resumed action. Satisfied as to hiscondition I returned to deck.
O'Keefe was there, looking like a spectre in the cotton sheet he had wrappedabout him. A deck table had been cleated down and one of the Tonga boys wassetting it for our dinner. Soon the very creditable larder of theSuwarna dressed the board, and O'Keefe, Da Costa, and I attacked it.The night had grown close and oppressive. Behind us the forward light ofthe Brunhilda glided and the binnacle lamp threw up a faint glow inwhich her black helmsman's face stood out mistily. O'Keefe had looked curiouslya number of times at our tow, but had asked no questions.
"You're not the only passenger we picked up today," I told him. "We foundthe captain of that sloop, lashed to his wheel, nearly dead with exhaustion,and his boat deserted by everyone except himself."
"What was the matter?" asked O'Keefe in astonishment.
"We don't know," I answered. "He fought us, and I had to drug him beforewe could get him loose from his lashings. He's sleeping down in my berthnow. His wife and little girl ought to have been on board, the captain heresays, but— they weren't."
"Wife and child gone!" exclaimed O'Keefe.
"From the condition of his mouth he must have been alone at the wheel andwithout water at least two days and nights before we found him," I replied."And as for looking for anyone on these waters after such a time— it'shopeless."
"That's true," said O'Keefe. "But his wife and baby! Poor, poor devil!"
He was silent for a time, and then, at my solicitation, began to tell usmore of himself. He had been little more than twenty when he had won hiswings and entered the war. He had been seriously wounded at Ypres duringthe third year of the struggle, and when he recovered the war was over. Shortlyafter that his mother had died. Lonely and restless, he had re-entered theAir Service, and had remained in it ever since.
"And though the war's long over, I get homesick for the lark's land withthe German planes playing tunes on their machine guns and their Archies ticklingthe soles of my feet," he sighed. "If you're in love, love to the limit;and if you hate, why hate like the devil and if it's a fight you're in, getwhere it's hottest and fight like hell— if you don't life's not worththe living," sighed he.
I watched him as he talked, feeling my liking for him steadily increasing.If I could but have a man like this beside me on the path of unknown perilupon which I had set my feet I thought, wistfully. We sat and smoked a bit,sipping the strong coffee the Portuguese made so well.
Da Costa at last relieved the Cantonese at the wheel. O'Keefe and I drewchairs up to the rail. The brighter stars shone out dimly through a hazysky; gleams of phosphorescence tipped the crests of the waves and sparkledwith an almost angry brilliance as the bow of the Suwarna tossed themaside. O'Keefe pulled contentedly at a cigarette. The glowing spark lightedthe keen, boyish face and the blue eyes, now black and brooding under thespell of the tropic night.
"Are you American or Irish, O'Keefe?" I asked suddenly.
"Why?" he laughed.
"Because," I answered, "from your name and your service I would suppose youIrish— but your command of pure Americanese makes me doubtful."
He grinned amiably.
"I'll tell you how that is," he said. "My mother was an American— a Grace,of Virginia. My father was the O'Keefe, of Coleraine. And these two lovedeach other so well that the heart they gave me is half Irish and half American.My father died when I was sixteen. I used to go to the States with my motherevery other year for a month or two. But after my father died we used togo to Ireland every other year. And there you are— I'm as much Americanas I am Irish.
"When I'm in love, or excited, or dreaming, or mad I have the brogue. Butfor the everyday purpose of life I like the United States talk, and I knowBroadway as well as I do Binevenagh Lane, and the Sound as well as St. Patrick'sChannel; educated a bit at Eton, a bit at Harvard; always too much moneyto have to make any; in love lots of times, and never a heartache after thatwasn't a pleasant one, and never a real purpose in life until I took theking's shilling and earned my wings; something over thirty— and that'sme— Larry O'Keefe."
"But it was the Irish O'Keefe who sat out there waiting for the banshee,"I laughed.
"It was that," he said somberly, and I heard the brogue creep over his voicelike velvet and his eyes grew brooding again. "There's never an O'Keefe forthese thousand years that has passed without his warning. An' twice haveI heard the banshee calling— once it was when my younger brother diedan' once when my father lay waiting to be carried out on the ebb tide."
He mused a moment, then went on: "An' once I saw an Annir Choille,a girl of the green people, flit like a shade of green fire through Carntogherwoods, an' once at Dunchraig I slept where the ashes of the Dun of CormacMac-Concobar are mixed with those of Cormac an' Eilidh the Fair, all burnedin the nine flames that sprang from the harping of Cravetheen, an' I heardthe echo of his dead harpings——"
He paused again and then, softly, with that curiously sweet, high voice thatonly the Irish seem to have, he sang:
Woman of the white breasts, Eilidh;
Woman of the gold-brown hair, and lips of the red, red rowan,
Where is the swan that is whiter, with breast more soft,
Or the wave on the sea that moves as thou movest, Eilidh.
CHAPTER VIII
Olaf's Story
There was a little silence. I looked upon him with wonder. Clearly he wasin deepest earnest. I know the psychology of the Gael is a curious one andthat deep in all their hearts their ancient traditions and beliefs have strongand living roots. And I was both amused and touched.
Here was this soldier, who had faced war and its ugly realities open-eyedand fearless, picking, indeed, the most dangerous branch of service for hisown, a modern if ever there was one, appreciative of most unmystical Broadway,and yet soberly and earnestly attesting to his belief in banshee, in shadowypeople of the woods, and phantom harpers! I wondered what he would thinkif he could see the Dweller and then, with a pang, that perhaps his superstitionsmight make him an easy prey.
He shook his head half impatiently and ran a hand over his eyes; turned tome and grinned:
"Don't think I'm cracked, Professor," he said. "I'm not. But it takes methat way now and then. It's the Irish in me. And, believe it or not, I'mtelling you the truth."
I looked eastward where the moon, now nearly a week past the full, was mounting.
"You can't make me see what you've seen, Lieutenant," I laughed. "But youcan make me hear. I've always wondered what kind of a noise a disembodiedspirit could make without any vocal cords or breath or any other earthlysound-producing mechanism. How does the banshee sound?"
O'Keefe looked at me seriously.
"All right," he said. "I'll show you." From deep down in his throat camefirst a low, weird sobbing that mounted steadily into a keening whosemournfulness made my skin creep. And then his hand shot out and gripped myshoulder, and I stiffened like stone in my chair— for from behind us,like an echo, and then taking up the cry, swelled a wail that seemed to holdwithin it a sublimation of the sorrows of centuries! It gathered itself intoone heartbroken, sobbing note and died away! O'Keefe's grip loosened, andhe rose swiftly to his feet.
"It's all right, Professor," he said. "It's for me. It found me— allthis way from Ireland."
Again the silence was rent by the cry. But now I had located it. It camefrom my room, and it could mean only one thing— Huldricksson had wakened.
"Forget your banshee!" I gasped, and made a jump for the cabin.
Out of the corner of my eye I noted a look of half-sheepish relief flit overO'Keefe's face, and then he was beside me. Da Costa shouted an order fromthe wheel, the Cantonese ran up and took it from his hands and the littlePortuguese pattered down toward us. My hand on the door, ready to throw itopen, I stopped. What if the Dweller were within— what if we had beenwrong and it was not dependent for its power upon that full flood of moonray which Throckmartin had thought essential to draw it from the blue pool!
From within, the sobbing wail began once more to rise. O'Keefe pushed measide, threw open the door and crouched low within it. I saw an automaticflash dully in his hand; saw it cover the cabin from side to side, followingthe swift sweep of his eyes around it. Then he straightened and his face,turned toward the berth, was filled with wondering pity.
Through the window streamed a shaft of the moonlight. It fell upon Huldricksson'sstaring eyes; in them great tears slowly gathered and rolled down his cheeks;from his opened mouth came the woe-laden wailing. I ran to the port and drewthe curtains. Da Costa snapped the lights.
The Norseman's dolorous crying stopped as abruptly as though cut. His gazerolled toward us. And at one bound he broke through the leashes I had buckledround him and faced us, his eyes glaring, his yellow hair almost erect withthe force of the rage visibly surging through him. Da Costa shrunk behindme. O'Keefe, coolly watchful, took a quick step that brought him in frontof me.
"Where do you take me?" said Huldricksson, and his voice was like the growlof a beast. "Where is my boat?"
I touched O'Keefe gently and stood before the giant.
"Listen, Olaf Huldricksson," I said. "We take you to where the sparklingdevil took your Helma and your Freda. We follow the sparkling devil thatcame down from the moon. Do you hear me?" I spoke slowly, distinctly, strivingto pierce the mists that I knew swirled around the strained brain. And thewords did pierce.
He thrust out a shaking hand.
"You say you follow?" he asked falteringly. "You know where to follow? Whereit took my Helma and my little Freda?"
"Just that, Olaf Huldricksson," I answered. "Just that! I pledge you my lifethat I know."
Da Costa stepped forward. "He speaks true, Olaf. You go faster on theSuwarna than on the Br-rw-un'ilda, Olaf, yes."
The giant Norseman, still gripping my hand, looked at him. "I know you, DaCosta," he muttered. "You are all right. Ja! You are a fair man. Whereis the Brunhilda?"
"She follow be'ind on a big rope, Olaf," soothed the Portuguese. "Soon yousee her. But now lie down an' tell us, if you can, why you tie yourself toyour wheel an' what it is that happen, Olaf."
"If you'll tell us how the sparkling devil came it will help us all whenwe get to where it is, Huldricksson," I said.
On O'Keefe's face there was an expression of well-nigh ludicrous doubt andamazement. He glanced from one to the other. The giant shifted his own tenselook from me to the Irishman. A gleam of approval lighted in his eyes. Heloosed me, and gripped O'Keefe's arm. "Staerk!" he said."Ja— strong, and with a strong heart. A man— ja! Hecomes too— we shall need him— ja!"
"I tell," he muttered, and seated himself on the side of the bunk. "It wasfour nights ago. My Freda"— his voice shook— "Mine Yndling!She loved the moonlight. I was at the wheel and my Freda and my Helma theywere behind me. The moon was behind us and the Brunhilda was likea swan-boat sailing down with the moonlight sending her, ja.
"I heard my Freda say: 'I see a nisse coming down the track of themoon.' And I hear her mother laugh, low, like a mother does when herYndling dreams. I was happy— that night— with my Helma andmy Freda, and the Brunhilda sailing like a swan-boat, ja. Iheard the child say, 'The nisse comes fast!' And then I heard a screamfrom my Helma, a great scream— like a mare when her foal is torn fromher. I spun around fast, ja! I dropped the wheel and spun fast! Isaw——" He covered his eyes with his hands.
The Portuguese had crept close to me, and I heard him panting like a frighteneddog.
"I saw a white fire spring over the rail," whispered Olaf Huldricksson. "Itwhirled round and round, and it shone like— like stars in a whirlwindmist. There was a noise in my ears. It sounded like bells— little bells,ja! Like the music you make when you run your finger round goblets.It made me sick and dizzy— the hell noise.
"My Helma was— indeholde— what you say— in the middleof the white fire. She turned her face to me and she turned it on the child,and my Helma's face burned into my heart. Because it was full of fear, andit was full of happiness— of glaede. I tell you that the fearin my Helma's face made me ice here"— he beat his breast with clenchedhand— "but the happiness in it burned on me like fire. And I could notmove— I could not move.
"I said in here"— he touched his head— "I said, 'It is Loki comeout of Helvede. But he cannot take my Helma, for Christ lives and Loki hasno power to hurt my Helma or my Freda! Christ lives! Christ lives!' I said.But the sparkling devil did not let my Helma go. It drew her to the rail;half over it. I saw her eyes upon the child and a little she broke away andreached to it. And my Freda jumped into her arms. And the fire wrapped themboth and they were gone! A little I saw them whirling on the moon track behindthe Brunhilda— and they were gone!
"The sparkling devil took them! Loki was loosed, and he had power. I turnedthe Brunhilda, and I followed where my Helma and mine Yndlinghad gone. My boys crept up and asked me to turn again. But I would not. Theydropped a boat and left me. I steered straight on the path. I lashed my handsto the wheel that sleep might not loose them. I steered on and on andon——
"Where was the God I prayed when my wife and child were taken?" cried OlafHuldricksson— and it was as though I heard Throckmartin asking that samebitter question. "I have left Him as He left me, ja! I pray now toThor and to Odin, who can fetter Loki." He sank back, covering again hiseyes.
"Olaf," I said, "what you have called the sparkling devil has taken onesdear to me. I, too, was following it when we found you. You shall go withme to its home, and there we will try to take from it your wife and yourchild and my friends as well. But now that you may be strong for what isbefore us, you must sleep again."
Olaf Huldricksson looked upon me and in his eyes was that something whichsouls must see in the eyes of Him the old Egyptians called the Searcher ofHearts in the Judgment Hall of Osiris.
"You speak truth!" he said at last slowly. "I will do what you say!"
He stretched out an arm at my bidding. I gave him a second injection. Helay back and soon he was sleeping. I turned toward Da Costa. His face waslivid and sweating, and he was trembling pitiably. O'Keefe stirred.
"You did that mighty well, Dr. Goodwin," he said. "So well that I almostbelieved you myself."
"What did you think of his story, Mr. O'Keefe?" I asked.
His answer was almost painfully brief and colloquial.
"Nuts!" he said. I was a little shocked, I admit. "I think he's crazy, Dr.Goodwin," he corrected himself, quickly. "What else could I think?"
I turned to the little Portuguese without answering.
"There's no need for any anxiety tonight, Captain," I said. "Take my wordfor it. You need some rest yourself. Shall I give you a sleeping draft?"
"I do wish you would, Dr. Goodwin, sair," he answered gratefully. "Tomorrow,when I feel bettair— I would have a talk with you."
I nodded. He did know something then! I mixed him an opiate of considerablestrength. He took it and went to his own cabin.
I locked the door behind him and then, sitting beside the sleeping Norseman,I told O'Keefe my story from end to end. He asked few questions as I spoke.But after I had finished he cross-examined me rather minutely upon myrecollections of the radiant phases upon each appearance, checking thesewith Throckmartin's observations of the same phenomena in the Chamber ofthe Moon Pool.
"And now what do you think of it all?" I asked.
He sat silent for a while, looking at Huldricksson.
"Not what you seem to think, Dr. Goodwin," he answered at last, gravely."Let me sleep over it. One thing of course is certain— you and your friendThrockmartin and this man here saw— something. But——" he wassilent again and then continued with a kindness that I found vaguelyirritating— "but I've noticed that when a scientist gets superstitiousit— er— takes very hard!
"Here's a few things I can tell you now though," he went on while I struggledto speak— "I pray in my heart that we'll meet neither the Dolphinnor anything with wireless on board going up. Because, Dr. Goodwin, I'd dearlylove to take a crack at your Dweller.
"And another thing," said O'Keefe. "After this— cut out the trimmings,Doc, and call me plain Larry, for whether I think you're crazy or whetherI don't, you're there with the nerve, Professor, and I'm for you.
"Good night!" said Larry and took himself out to the deck hammock he hadinsisted upon having slung for him, refusing the captain's importunitiesto use his own cabin.
And it was with extremely mixed emotions as to his compliment that I watchedhim go. Superstitious. I, whose pride was my scientific devotion to factand fact alone! Superstitious— and this from a man who believed in bansheesand ghostly harpers and Irish wood nymphs and no doubt in leprechauns andall their tribe!
Half laughing, half irritated, and wholly happy in even the part promiseof Larry O'Keefe's comradeship on my venture, I arranged a couple of pillows,stretched myself out on two chairs and took up my vigil beside Olaf Huldricksson.
CHAPTER IX
A Lost Page of Earth
When I awakened the sun was streaming through the cabin porthole. Outsidea fresh voice lilted. I lay on my two chairs and listened. The song was onewith the wholesome sunshine and the breeze blowing stiffly and whipping thecurtains. It was Larry O'Keefe at his matins:
The little red lark is shaking his wings,
Straight from the breast of his love he springs
Larry's voice soared.
His wings and his feathers are sunrise red,
He hails the sun and his golden head,
Good morning, Doc, you are long abed.
This last was a most irreverent interpolation, I well knew. I opened my door.O'Keefe stood outside laughing. The Suwarna, her engines silent, wasmaking fine headway under all sail, the Brunhilda skipping in herwake cheerfully with half her canvas up.
The sea was crisping and dimpling under the wind. Blue and white was theworld as far as the eye could reach. Schools of little silvery green flyingfish broke through the water rushing on each side of us; flashed for an instantand were gone. Behind us gulls hovered and dipped. The shadow of mysteryhad retreated far over the rim of this wide awake and beautiful world andif, subconsciously, I knew that somewhere it was brooding and waiting, fora little while at least I was consciously free of its oppression.
"How's the patient?" asked O'Keefe.
He was answered by Huldricksson himself, who must have risen just as I leftthe cabin. The Norseman had slipped on a pair of pajamas and, giant torsonaked under the sun, he strode out upon us. We all of us looked at him atrifle anxiously. But Olaf's madness had left him. In his eyes was much sorrow,but the berserk rage was gone.
He spoke straight to me: "You said last night we follow?"
I nodded.
"It is where?" he asked again.
"We go first to Ponape and from there to Metalanim Harbour— to the Nan-Matal.You know the place?"
Huldricksson bowed— a white gleam as of ice showing in his blue eyes.
"It is there?" he asked.
"It is there that we must first search," I answered.
"Good!" said Olaf Huldricksson. "It is good!"
He looked at Da Costa inquiringly and the little Portuguese, following histhought, answered his unspoken question.
"We should be at Ponape tomorrow morning early, Olaf."
"Good!" repeated the Norseman. He looked away, his eyes tear-filled.
A restraint fell upon us; the embarrassment all men experience when theyfeel a great sympathy and a great pity, to neither of which they quite knowhow to give expression. By silent consent we discussed at breakfast onlythe most casual topics.
When the meal was over Huldricksson expressed a desire to go aboard theBrunhilda.
The Suwarna hove to and Da Costa and he dropped into the small boat.When they reached the Brunhilda's deck I saw Olaf take the wheel andthe two fall into earnest talk. I beckoned to O'Keefe and we stretched ourselvesout on the bow hatch under cover of the foresail. He lighted a cigarette,took a couple of leisurely puffs, and looked at me expectantly.
"Well?" I asked.
"Well," said O'Keefe, "suppose you tell me what you think— andthen I'll proceed to point out your scientific errors." His eyes twinkledmischievously.
"Larry," I replied, somewhat severely, "you may not know that I have a scientificreputation which, putting aside all modesty, I may say is an enviable one.You used a word last night to which I must interpose serious objection. Youmore than hinted that I had— superstitions. Let me inform you, LarryO'Keefe, that I am solely a seeker, observer, analyst, and synthesist offacts. I am not"— and I tried to make my tone as pointed as my words— "Iam not a believer in phantoms or spooks, leprechauns, banshees, or ghostlyharpers."
O'Keefe leaned back and shouted with laughter.
"Forgive me, Goodwin," he gasped. "But if you could have seen yourself solemnlydisclaiming the banshee"— another twinkle showed in his eyes— "andthen with all this sunshine and this wide-open world"— he shrugged hisshoulders— "it's hard to visualize anything such as you and Huldrickssonhave described."
"I know how hard it is, Larry," I answered. "And don't think I have any ideathat the phenomenon is supernatural in the sense spiritualists and tableturners have given that word. I do think it is supernormal; energized bya force unknown to modern science— but that doesn't mean I think it outsidethe radius of science."
"Tell me your theory, Goodwin," he said. I hesitated— for not yet hadI been able to put into form to satisfy myself any explanation of the Dweller.
"I think," I hazarded finally, "it is possible that some members of thatrace peopling the ancient continent which we know existed here in the Pacific,have survived. We know that many of these islands are honeycombed with cavernsand vast subterranean spaces, literally underground lands running in somecases far out beneath the ocean floor. It is possible that for some reasonsurvivors of this race sought refuge in the abysmal spaces, one of whoseentrances is on the islet where Throckmartin's party met its end.
"As for their persistence in these caverns— we know they possessed ahigh science. They may have gone far in the mastery of certain universalforms of energy— especially that we call light. They may have developeda civilization and a science far more advanced than ours. What I call theDweller may be one of the results of this science. Larry— it may wellbe that this lost race is planning to emerge again upon earth's surface!"
"And is sending out your Dweller as a messenger, a scientific dove from theirArk?" I chose to overlook the banter in his question.
"Did you ever hear of the Chamats?" I asked him. He shook his head.
"In Papua," I explained, "there is a wide-spread and immeasurably old traditionthat 'imprisoned under the hills' is a race of giants who once ruled thisregion 'when it stretched from sun to sun before the moon god drew the watersover it'— I quote from the legend. Not only in Papua but throughout Malaysiayou find this story. And, so the tradition runs, these people— theChamats— will one day break through the hills and rule the world; 'makeover the world' is the literal translation of the constant phrase in thetale. It was Herbert Spencer who pointed out that there is a basis of factin every myth and legend of man. It is possible that these survivors I amdiscussing form Spencer's fact basis for the Malaysian legend. [2]
[2 William Beebe, the famous American naturalist andornithologist, recently fighting in France with America's air force, calledattention to this remarkable belief in an article printed not long ago inthe Atlantic Monthly. Still more significant was it that he noteda persistent rumour that the breaking out of the buried race was close.—W. J. B., Pres. I. A. of S.] 
"This much is sure— the moon door, which is clearly operated by the actionof moon rays upon some unknown element or combination and the crystals throughwhich the moon rays pour down upon the pool their prismatic columns, arehumanly made mechanisms. So long as they are humanly made, and so long asit is this flood of moonlight from which the Dweller draws its power ofmaterialization, the Dweller itself, if not the product of the human mind,is at least dependent upon the product of the human mind for its appearance."
"Wait a minute, Goodwin," interrupted O'Keefe. "Do you mean to say you thinkthat this thing is made of— well— of moonshine?"
"Moonlight," I replied, "is, of course, reflected sunlight. But the rayswhich pass back to earth after their impact on the moon's surface are profoundlychanged. The spectroscope shows that they lose practically all the slowervibrations we call red and infra-red, while the extremely rapid vibrationswe call the violet and ultra-violet are accelerated and altered. Many scientistshold that there is an unknown element in the moon— perhaps that whichmakes the gigantic luminous trails that radiate in all directions from thelunar crater Tycho— whose energies are absorbed by and carried on themoon rays.
"At any rate, whether by the loss of the vibrations of the red or by theaddition of this mysterious force, the light of the moon becomes somethingentirely different from mere modified sunlight— just as the additionor subtraction of one other chemical in a compound of several makes the producta substance with entirely different energies and potentialities.
"Now these rays, Larry, are given perhaps still another mysterious activityby the globes through which Throckmartin said they passed in the Chamberof the Moon Pool. The result is the necessary factor in the formation ofthe Dweller. There would be nothing scientifically improbable in such a process.Kubalski, the great Russian physicist, produced crystalline forms exhibitingevery faculty that we call vital by subjecting certain combinations of chemicalsto the action of highly concentrated rays of various colours. Something inlight and nothing else produced their pseudo-vitality. We do not begin toknow how to harness the potentialities of that magnetic vibration of theether we call light."
"Listen, Doc," said Larry earnestly, "I'll take everything you say aboutthis lost continent, the people who used to live on it, and their caverns,for granted. But by the sword of Brian Boru, you'll never get me to fallfor the idea that a bunch of moonshine can handle a big woman such as yousay Throckmartin's Thora was, nor a two-fisted man such as you say Throckmartinwas, nor Huldricksson's wife— and I'll bet she was one of those strappingbig northern women too— you'll never get me to believe that any bunchof concentrated moonshine could handle them and take them waltzing off alonga moonbeam back to wherever it goes. No, Doc, not on your life, even Tennesseemoonshine couldn't do that— nix!"
"All right, O'Keefe," I answered, now very much irritated indeed. "What'syour theory?" And I could not resist adding: "Fairies?"
"Professor," he grinned, "if that Thing's a fairy it's Irish and when itsees me it'll be so glad there'll be nothing to it. 'I was lost, strayed,or stolen, Larry avick,' it'll say, 'an' I was so homesick for theold sod I was desp'rit,' it'll say, an' 'take me back quick before I do anymore har-rm!' It'll tell me— an' that's the truth.
"Now don't get me wrong. I believe you all saw something all right. But whatI think you saw was some kind of gas. All this region is volcanic and islandsand things are constantly poking up from the sea. It's probably gas; a volcanicemanation; something new to us and that drives you crazy— lots of kindsof gas do that. It hit the Throckmartin party on that island and they probablywere all more or less delirious all the time; thought they saw things; talkedit over and— collective hallucination— just like the Angels of Monsand other miracles of the war. Somebody sees something that looks like somethingelse. He points it out to the man next him. 'Do you see it?' asks he. 'SureI see it,' says the other. And there you are— collective hallucination.
"When your friends got it bad they most likely jumped overboard one by one.Huldricksson sails into a place where it is and it hits his wife. She grabsthe child and jumps over. Maybe the moon rays make it luminous! I've seengas on the front under the moon that looked like a thousand whirling dervishdevils. Yes, and you could see the devil's faces in it. And if it got intoyour lungs nothing could ever make you think you hadn't seen real devils."
For a time I was silent.
"Larry," I said at last, "whether you are right or I am right, I must goto the Nan-Matal. Will you go with me, Larry?"
"Goodwin," he replied, "I surely will. I'm as interested as you are. If wedon't run across the Dolphin I'll stick. I'll leave word at Ponape,to tell them where I am should they come along. If they report me dead fora while there's nobody to care. So that's all right. Only old man, be reasonable.You've thought over this so long, you're going bug, honestly you are."
And again, the gladness that I might have Larry O'Keefe with me, was so greatthat I forgot to be angry.
CHAPTER X
The Moon Pool
Da Costa, who had come aboard unnoticed by either of us, now tapped me onthe arm.
"Doctair Goodwin," he said, "can I see you in my cabin, sair?"
At last, then, he was going to speak. I followed him.
"Doctair," he said, when we had entered, "this is a veree strange thing thathas happened to Olaf. Veree strange. An' the natives of Ponape, they havebeen very much excite' lately.
"Of what they fear I know nothing, nothing!" Again that quick, furtive crossingof himself. "But this I have to tell you. There came to me from Ranaloa lastmonth a man, a Russian, a doctair, like you. His name it was Marakinoff.I take him to Ponape an' the natives there they will not take him to theNan-Matal where he wish to go— no! So I take him. We leave in a boat,wit' much instrument carefully tied up. I leave him there wit' the boat an'the food. He tell me to tell no one an' pay me not to. But you are a friendan' Olaf he depend much upon you an' so I tell you, sair."
"You know nothing more than this, Da Costa?" I asked. "Nothing of anotherexpedition?"
"No," he shook his head vehemently. "Nothing more."
"Hear the name Throckmartin while you were there?" I persisted.
"No," his eyes were steady as he answered but the pallor had crept againinto his face.
I was not so sure. But if he knew more than he had told me why was he afraidto speak? My anxiety deepened and later I sought relief from it by repeatingthe conversation to O'Keefe.
"A Russian, eh," he said. "Well, they can be damned nice, ordamned— otherwise. Considering what you did for me, I hope I can lookhim over before the Dolphin shows up."
Next morning we raised Ponape, without further incident, and before noonthe Suwarna and the Brunhilda had dropped anchor in the harbour.Upon the excitement and manifest dread of the natives, when we sought amongthem for carriers and workmen to accompany us, I will not dwell. It is enoughto say that no payment we offered could induce a single one of them to goto the Nan-Matal. Nor would they say why.
Finally it was agreed that the Brunhilda should be left in chargeof a half-breed Chinaman, whom both Da Costa and Huldricksson knew and trusted.We piled her long-boat up with my instruments and food and camping equipment.The Suwarna took us around to Metalanim Harbour, and there, with thetops of ancient sea walls deep in the blue water beneath us, and the ruinslooming up out of the mangroves, a scant mile from us, left us.
Then with Huldricksson manipulating our small sail, and Larry at the rudder,we rounded the titanic wall that swept down into the depths, and turned atlast into the canal that Throckmartin, on his map, had marked as that which,running between frowning Nan-Tauach and its satellite islet, Tau, led straightto the gate of the place of ancient mysteries.
And as we entered that channel we were enveloped by a silence; a silenceso intense, so— weighted that it seemed to have substance; an alien silencethat clung and stifled and still stood aloof from us— the living. Itwas a stillness, such as might follow the long tramping of millions intothe grave; it was— paradoxical as it may be— filled with the withdrawalof life.
Standing down in the chambered depths of the Great Pyramid I had known somethingof such silence— but never such intensity as this. Larry felt it andI saw him look at me askance. If Olaf, sitting in the bow, felt it, too,he gave no sign; his blue eyes, with again the glint of ice within them,watched the channel before us.
As we passed, there arose upon our left sheer walls of black basalt blocks,cyclopean, towering fifty feet or more, broken here and there by the sinkingof their deep foundations.
In front of us the mangroves widened out and filled the canal. On our rightthe lesser walls of Tau, sombre blocks smoothed and squared and set witha cold, mathematical nicety that filled me with vague awe, slipped by. Throughbreaks I caught glimpses of dark ruins and of great fallen stones that seemedto crouch and menace us, as we passed. Somewhere there, hidden, were theseven globes that poured the moon fire down upon the Moon Pool.
Now we were among the mangroves and, sail down, the three of us pushed andpulled the boat through their tangled roots and branches. The noise of ourpassing split the silence like a profanation, and from the ancient bastionscame murmurs— forbidding, strangely sinister. And now we were through,floating on a little open space of shadow-filled water. Before us liftedthe gateway of Nan-Tauach, gigantic, broken, incredibly old; shattered portalsthrough which had passed men and women of earth's dawn; old with a weightof years that pressed leadenly upon the eyes that looked upon it, and yetwas in some curious indefinable way— menacingly defiant.
Beyond the gate, back from the portals, stretched a flight of enormous basaltslabs, a giant's stairway indeed; and from each side of it marched the highwalls that were the Dweller's pathway. None of us spoke as we grounded theboat and dragged it upon a half-submerged pier. And when we did speak itwas in whispers.
"What next?" asked Larry.
"I think we ought to take a look around," I replied in the same low tones."We'll climb the wall here and take a flash about. The whole place oughtto be plain as day from that height."
Huldricksson, his blue eyes alert, nodded. With the greatest difficulty weclambered up the broken blocks.
To the east and south of us, set like children's blocks in the midst of thesapphire sea, lay dozens of islets, none of them covering more than two squaremiles of surface; each of them a perfect square or oblong within its protectingwalls.
On none was there sign of life, save for a few great birds that hovered hereand there, and gulls dipping in the blue waves beyond.
We turned our gaze down upon the island on which we stood. It was, I estimated,about three-quarters of a mile square. The sea wall enclosed it. It was reallyan enormous basalt-sided open cube, and within it two other open cubes. Theenclosure between the first and second wall was stone paved, with here andthere a broken pillar and long stone benches. The hibiscus, the aloe tree,and a number of small shrubs had found place, but seemed only to intensifyits stark loneliness.
"Wonder where the Russian can be?" asked Larry.
I shook my head. There was no sign of life here. Had Marakinoff gone— orhad the Dweller taken him, too? Whatever had happened, there was no traceof him below us or on any of the islets within our range of vision. We scrambleddown the side of the gateway. Olaf looked at me wistfully.
"We start the search now, Olaf," I said. "And first, O'Keefe, let us seewhether the grey stone is really here. After that we will set up camp, andwhile I unpack, you and Olaf search the island. It won't take long."
Larry gave a look at his service automatic and grinned. "Lead on,Macduff," he said. We made our way up the steps, through the outerenclosures and into the central square. I confess to a fire of scientificcuriosity and eagerness tinged with a dread that O'Keefe's analysis mightbe true. Would we find the moving slab and, if so, would it be as Throckmartinhad described? If so, then even Larry would have to admit that here was somethingthat theories of gases and luminous emanations would not explain; and thefirst test of the whole amazing story would be passed. But if not——
And there before us, the faintest tinge of grey setting it apart from itsneighbouring blocks of basalt, was the moon door!
There was no mistaking it. This was, in very deed, the portal through whichThrockmartin had seen pass that gloriously dreadful apparition he calledthe Dweller. At its base was the curious, seemingly polished cup-like depressionwithin which, my lost friend had told me, the opening door swung.
What was that portal— more enigmatic than was ever sphinx? And what laybeyond it? What did that smooth stone, whose wan deadness whispered of ages-oldcorridors of time opening out into alien, unimaginable vistas, hide? It hadcost the world of science Throckmartin's great brain — as it had costThrockmartin those he loved. It had drawn me to it in search ofThrockmartin— and its shadow had fallen upon the soul of Olaf the Norseman;and upon what thousands upon thousands more I wondered, since the brainsthat had conceived it had vanished with their secret knowledge?
What lay beyond it?
I stretched out a shaking hand and touched the surface of the slab. A faintthrill passed through my hand and arm, oddly unfamiliar and as oddly unpleasant;as of electric contact holding the very essence of cold. O'Keefe, watching,imitated my action. As his fingers rested on the stone his face filled withastonishment.
"It's the door?" he asked. I nodded. There was a low whistle from him andhe pointed up toward the top of the grey stone. I followed the gesture andsaw, above the moon door and on each side of it, two gently curving bossesof rock, perhaps a foot in diameter.
"The moon door's keys," I said.
"It begins to look so," answered Larry. "If we can find them," he added.
"There's nothing we can do till moonrise," I replied. "And we've none toomuch time to prepare as it is. Come!"
A little later we were beside our boat. We lightered it, set up the tent,and as it was now but a short hour to sundown I bade them leave me and maketheir search. They went off together, and I busied myself with opening someof the paraphernalia I had brought with me.
First of all I took out the two Becquerel ray-condensers that I had boughtin Sydney. Their lenses would collect and intensify to the fullest extentany light directed upon them. I had found them most useful in makingspectroscopic analysis of luminous vapours, and I knew that at Yerkes Observatorysplendid results had been obtained from them in collecting the diffused radianceof the nebulae for the same purpose.
If my theory of the grey slab's mechanism were correct, it was practicallycertain that with the satellite only a few nights past the full we couldconcentrate enough light on the bosses to open the rock. And as the ray streamsthrough the seven globes described by Throckmartin would be too weak to energizethe Pool, we could enter the chamber free from any fear of encountering itstenant, make our preliminary observations and go forth before the moon haddropped so far that the concentration in the condensers would fall belowthat necessary to keep the portal from closing.
I took out also a small spectroscope, and a few other instruments for theanalysis of certain light manifestations and the testing of metal and liquid.Finally, I put aside my emergency medical kit.
I had hardly finished examining and adjusting these before O'Keefe andHuldricksson returned. They reported signs of a camp at least ten days oldbeside the northern wall of the outer court, but beyond that no evidenceof others beyond ourselves on Nan-Tauach.
We prepared supper, ate and talked a little, but for the most part were silent.Even Larry's high spirits were not in evidence; half a dozen times I sawhim take out his automatic and look it over. He was more thoughtful thanI had ever seen him. Once he went into the tent, rummaged about a bit andbrought out another revolver which, he said, he had got from Da Costa, anda half-dozen clips of cartridges. He passed the gun over to Olaf.
At last a glow in the south-east heralded the rising moon. I picked up myinstruments and the medical kit; Larry and Olaf shouldered each a short ladderthat was part of my equipment, and, with our electric flashes pointing theway, walked up the great stairs, through the enclosures, and straight tothe grey stone.
By this time the moon had risen and its clipped light shone full upon theslab. I saw faint gleams pass over it as of fleeting phosphorescence— butso faint were they that I could not be sure of the truth of my observation.
We set the ladders in place. Olaf I assigned to stand before the door andwatch for the first signs of its opening— if open it should. The Becquerelswere set within three-inch tripods, whose feet I had equipped with vacuumrings to enable them to hold fast to the rock.
I scaled one ladder and fastened a condenser over the boss; descended; sentLarry up to watch it, and, ascending the second ladder, rapidly fixed theother in its place. Then, with O'Keefe watchful on his perch, I on mine,and Olaf's eyes fixed upon the moon door, we began our vigil. Suddenly therewas an exclamation from Larry.
"Seven little lights are beginning to glow on this stone!" he cried.
But I had already seen those beneath my lens begin to gleam out with a silverylustre. Swiftly the rays within the condenser began to thicken and increase,and as they did so the seven small circles waxed like stars growing out ofthe dusk, and with a queer— curdled is the best word I can find to defineit— radiance entirely strange to me.
Beneath me I heard a faint, sighing murmur and then the voice of Huldricksson:
"It opens— the stone turns——"
I began to climb down the ladder. Again came Olaf's voice:
"The stone— it is open——" And then a shriek, a wail of blendedanguish and pity, of rage and despair— and the sound of swift footstepsracing through the wall beneath me!
I dropped to the ground. The moon door was wide open, and through it I caughta glimpse of a corridor filled with a faint, pearly vaporous light like earliestmisty dawn. But of Olaf I could see— nothing! And even as I stood, gaping,from behind me came the sharp crack of a rifle; the glass of the condenserat Larry's side flew into fragments; he dropped swiftly to the ground, theautomatic in his hand flashed once, twice, into the darkness.
And the moon door began to pivot slowly, slowly back into its place!
I rushed toward the turning stone with the wild idea of holding it open.As I thrust my hands against it there came at my back a snarl and an oathand Larry staggered under the impact of a body that had flung itself straightat his throat. He reeled at the lip of the shallow cup at the base of theslab, slipped upon its polished curve, fell and rolled with that which hadattacked him, kicking and writhing, straight through the narrowing portalinto the passage!
Forgetting all else, I sprang to his aid. As I leaped I felt the closingedge of the moon door graze my side. Then, as Larry raised a fist, broughtit down upon the temple of the man who had grappled with him and rose fromthe twitching body unsteadily to his feet, I heard shuddering past me a mournfulwhisper; spun about as though some giant's hand had whirled me——
The end of the corridor no longer opened out into the moonlit square of ruinedNan-Tauach. It was barred by a solid mass of glimmering stone. The moon doorhad closed!
O'Keefe took a stumbling step toward the barrier behind us. There was nomark of juncture with the shining walls; the slab fitted into the sides asclosely as a mosaic.
"It's shut all right," said Larry. "But if there's a way in, there's a wayout. Anyway, Doc, we're right in the pew we've been heading for— so whyworry?" He grinned at me cheerfully. The man on the floor groaned, and hedropped to his knees beside him.
"Marakinoff!" he cried.
At my exclamation he moved aside, turning the face so I could see it. Itwas clearly Russian, and just as clearly its possessor was one of unusualforce and intellect.
The strong, massive brow with orbital ridge unusually developed, the dominant,high-bridged nose, the straight lips with their more than suggestion of latentcruelty, and the strong lines of the jaw beneath a black, pointed beard allgave evidence that here was a personality beyond the ordinary.
"Couldn't be anybody else," said Larry, breaking in on my thoughts. "He musthave been watching us over there from Chau-te-leur's vault all the time."
Swiftly he ran practised hands over his body; then stood erect, holding outto me two wicked-looking magazine pistols and a knife. "He got one of mybullets through his right forearm, too," he said. "Just a flesh wound, butit made him drop his rifle. Some arsenal, our little Russian scientist, what?"
I opened my medical kit. The wound was a slight one, and Larry stood lookingon as I bandaged it.
"Got another one of those condensers?" he asked, suddenly. "And do you supposeOlaf will know enough to use it?"
"Larry," I answered, "Olaf's not outside! He's in here somewhere!"
His jaw dropped.
"The hell you say!" he whispered.
"Didn't you hear him shriek when the stone opened?" I asked.
"I heard him yell, yes," he said. "But I didn't know what was the matter.And then this wildcat jumped me——" He paused and his eyes widened."Which way did he go?" he asked swiftly. I pointed down the faintly glowingpassage.
"There's only one way," I said.
"Watch that bird close," hissed O'Keefe, pointing to Marakinoff— andpistol in hand stretched his long legs and raced away. I looked down at theRussian. His eyes were open, and he reached out a hand to me. I lifted himto his feet.
"I have heard," he said. "We follow, quick. If you will take my arm, please,I am shaken yet, yes——" I gripped his shoulder without a word,and the two of us set off down the corridor after O'Keefe. Marakinoff wasgasping, and his weight pressed upon me heavily, but he moved with all thewill and strength that were in him.
As we ran I took hasty note of the tunnel. Its sides were smooth and polished,and the light seemed to come not from their surfaces, but from far withinthem— giving to the walls an illusive aspect of distance and depth; renderingthem in a peculiarly weird way— spacious. The passage turned, twisted,ran down, turned again. It came to me that the light that illumined the tunnelwas given out by tiny points deep within the stone, sprang from the pointsripplingly and spread upon their polished faces.
There was a cry from Larry far ahead.
"Olaf!"
I gripped Marakinoff's arm closer and we sped on. Now we were coming fastto the end of the passage. Before us was a high arch, and through it I glimpseda dim, shifting luminosity as of mist filled with rainbows. We reached theportal and I looked into a chamber that might have been transported fromthat enchanted palace of the Jinn King that rises beyond the magic mountainsof Kaf.
Before me stood O'Keefe and a dozen feet in front of him, Huldricksson, withsomething clasped tightly in his arms. The Norseman's feet were at the vergeof a shining, silvery lip of stone within whose oval lay a blue pool. Anddown upon this pool staring upward like a gigantic eye, fell seven pillarsof phantom light— one of them amethyst, one of rose, another of white,a fourth of blue, and three of emerald, of silver, and of amber. They felleach upon the azure surface, and I knew that these were the seven streamsof radiance, within which the Dweller took shape— now but pale ghostsof their brilliancy when the full energy of the moon stream raced throughthem.
Huldricksson bent and placed on the shining silver lip of the Pool that whichhe held— and I saw that it was the body of a child! He set it there sogently, bent over the side and thrust a hand down into the water. And ashe did so he moaned and lurched against the little body that lay before him.Instantly the form moved— and slipped over the verge into the blue.Huldricksson threw his body over the stone, hands clutching, arms thrustdeep down— and from his lips issued a long-drawn, heart-shrivelling wailof pain and of anguish that held in it nothing human!
Close on its wake came a cry from Marakinoff.
"Catch him!" shouted the Russian. "Drag him back! Quick!"
He leaped forward, but before he could half clear the distance, O'Keefe hadleaped too, had caught the Norseman by the shoulders and toppled him backward,where he lay whimpering and sobbing. And as I rushed behind Marakinoff Isaw Larry lean over the lip of the Pool and cover his eyes with a shakinghand; saw the Russian peer into it with real pity in his cold eyes.
Then I stared down myself into the Moon Pool, and there, sinking, was a littlemaid whose dead face and fixed, terror-filled eyes looked straight into mine;and ever sinking slowly, slowly— vanished! And I knew that this was Olaf'sFreda, his beloved yndling!
But where was the mother, and where had Olaf found his babe?
The Russian was first to speak.
"You have nitroglycerin there, yes?" he asked, pointing toward my medicalkit that I had gripped unconsciously and carried with me during the mad rushdown the passage. I nodded and drew it out.
"Hypodermic," he ordered next, curtly; took the syringe, filled it accuratelywith its one one-hundredth of a grain dosage, and leaned over Huldricksson.He rolled up the sailor's sleeves half-way to the shoulder. The arms werewhite with somewhat of that weird semitranslucence that I had seen onThrockmartin's breast where a tendril of the Dweller had touched him; andhis hands were of the same whiteness— like a baroque pearl. Above theline of white, Marakinoff thrust the needle.
"He will need all his heart can do," he said to me.
Then he reached down into a belt about his waist and drew from it a small,flat flask of what seemed to be lead. He opened it and let a few drops ofits contents fall on each arm of the Norwegian. The liquid sparkled and instantlybegan to spread over the skin much as oil or gasoline dropped on waterdoes— only far more rapidly. And as it spread it drew a sparkling filmover the marbled flesh and little wisps of vapour rose from it. The Norseman'smighty chest heaved with agony. His hands clenched. The Russian gave a gruntof satisfaction at this, dropped a little more of the liquid, and then, watchingclosely, grunted again and leaned back. Huldricksson's laboured breathingceased, his head dropped upon Larry's knee, and from his arms and hands thewhiteness swiftly withdrew.
Marakinoff arose and contemplated us— almost benevolently.
"He will all right be in five minutes," he said. "I know. I do it to payfor that shot of mine, and also because we will need him. Yes." He turnedto Larry. "You have a poonch like a mule kick, my young friend," he said."Some time you pay me for that, too, eh?" He smiled; and the quality of thegrimace was not exactly reassuring. Larry looked him over quizzically.
"You're Marakinoff, of course," he said. The Russian nodded, betraying nosurprise at the recognition.
"And you?" he asked.
"Lieutenant O'Keefe of the Royal Flying Corps," replied Larry, saluting."And this gentleman is Dr. Walter T. Goodwin."
Marakinoff's face brightened.
"The American botanist?" he queried. I nodded.
"Ah," cried Marakinoff eagerly, "but this is fortunate. Long I have desiredto meet you. Your work, for an American, is most excellent; surprising. Butyou are wrong in your theory of the development of the Angiospermae fromCycadeoidea dacotensis. Da— all wrong——"
I was interrupting him with considerable heat, for my conclusions from thefossil Cycadeoidea I knew to be my greatest triumph, when Larry brokein upon me rudely.
"Say," he spluttered, "am I crazy or are you? What in damnation kind of aplace and time is this to start an argument like that?
"Angiospermae, is it?" exclaimed Larry. "Hell!"
Marakinoff again regarded him with that irritating air of benevolence.
"You have not the scientific mind, young friend," he said. "The poonch, yes!But so has the mule. You must learn that only the fact is important— notyou, not me, not this"— he pointed to Huldricksson— "or its sorrows.Only the fact, whatever it is, is real, yes. But"— he turned tome— "another time——"
Huldricksson interrupted him. The big seaman had risen stiffly to his feetand stood with Larry's arm supporting him. He stretched out his hands tome.
"I saw her," he whispered. "I saw mine Freda when the stone swung.She lay there— just at my feet. I picked her up and I saw thatmine Freda was dead. But I hoped— and I thought maybe mineHelma was somewhere here, too. So I ran with mineyndling— here——" His voice broke. "I thought maybe shewas not dead," he went on. "And I saw that"— he pointed to theMoon Pool— "and I thought I would bathe her face and she might live again.And when I dipped my hands within— the life left them, and cold, deadlycold, ran up through them into my heart. And mine Freda— shefell——" he covered his eyes, and dropping his head on O'Keefe'sshoulder, stood, racked by sobs that seemed to tear at his very soul.
CHAPTER XI
The Flame-Tipped Shadows
Marakinoff nodded his head solemnly as Olaf finished.
"Da!" he said. "That which comes from here took them both— thewoman and the child. Da! They came clasped within it and the stoneshut upon them. But why it left the child behind I do not understand."
"How do you know that?" I cried in amazement.
"Because I saw it," answered Marakinoff simply. "Not only did I see it, buthardly had I time to make escape through the entrance before it passed whirlingand murmuring and its bell sounds all joyous. Da! It was what youcall the squeak close, that."
"Wait a moment," I said— stilling Larry with a gesture. "Do I understandyou to say that you were within this place?"
Marakinoff actually beamed upon me.
"Da, Dr. Goodwin," he said, "I went in when that which comes fromit went out!"
I gaped at him, stricken dumb; into Larry's bellicose attitude crept a suggestionof grudging respect; Olaf, trembling, watched silently.
"Dr. Goodwin and my impetuous young friend, you," went on Marakinoff aftera moment's silence— and I wondered vaguely why he did not includeHuldricksson in his address— "it is time that we have an understanding.I have a proposal to make to you also. It is this; we are what you call abad boat, and all of us are in it. Da! We need all hands, is it notso? Let us put together our knowledge and our brains and resources— andeven a poonch of a mule is a resource," he looked wickedly at O'Keefe, "andpull our boat into quiet waters again. After that——"
"All very well, Marakinoff," interjected Larry, "but I don't feel very safein any boat with somebody capable of shooting me through the back."
Marakinoff waved a deprecatory hand.
"It was natural that," he said, "logical, da! Here is a very greatsecret, perhaps many secrets to my country invaluable——" He paused,shaken by some overpowering emotion; the veins in his forehead grew congested,the cold eyes blazed and the guttural voice harshened.
"I do not apologize and I do not explain," rasped Marakinoff. "But I willtell you, da! Here is my country sweating blood in an experiment toliberate the world. And here are the other nations ringing us like wolvesand waiting to spring at our throats at the least sign of weakness. And hereare you, Lieutenant O'Keefe of the English wolves, and you Dr. Goodwin ofthe Yankee pack— and here in this place may be that will enable my countryto win its war for the worker. What are the lives of you two and this sailorto that? Less than the flies I crush with my hand, less than midges in thesunbeam!"
He suddenly gripped himself.
"But that is not now the important thing," he resumed, almost coldly. "Notthat nor my shooting. Let us squarely the situation face. My proposal isso: that we join interests, and what you call see it through together; findour way through this place and those secrets learn of which I have spoken,if we can. And when that is done we will go our ways, to his own land each,to make use of them for our lands as each of us may. On my part, I offermy knowledge— and it is very valuable, Dr. Goodwin— and my training.You and Lieutenant O'Keefe do the same, and this man Olaf, what he can ofhis strength, for I do not think his usefulness lies in his brains, no."
"In effect, Goodwin," broke in Larry as I hesitated, "the professor's propositionis this: he wants to know what's going on here but he begins to realize it'sno one man's job and besides we have the drop on him. We're three to hisone, and we have all his hardware and cutlery. But also we can do betterwith him than without him— just as he can do better with us than withoutus. It's an even break— for a while. But once he gets that informationhe's looking for, then look out. You and Olaf and I are the wolves and theflies and the midges again— and the strafing will be about due.Nevertheless, with three to one against him, if he can get away with it hedeserves to. I'm for taking him up, if you are."
There was almost a twinkle in Marakinoff's eyes.
"It is not just as I would have put it, perhaps," he said, "but in its skeletonhe has right. Nor will I turn my hand against you while we are still in dangerhere. I pledge you my honor on this."
Larry laughed.
"All right, Professor," he grinned. "I believe you mean every word you say.Nevertheless, I'll just keep the guns."
Marakinoff bowed, imperturbably.
"And now," he said, "I will tell you what I know. I found the secret of thedoor mechanism even as you did, Dr. Goodwin. But by carelessness, my condenserswere broken. I was forced to wait while I sent for others— and the waitingmight be for months. I took certain precautions, and on the first night ofthis full moon I hid myself within the vault of Chau-te-leur."
An involuntary thrill of admiration for the man went through me at the manifestheroism of this leap in the dark. I could see it reflected in Larry's face.
"I hid in the vault," continued Marakinoff, "and I saw that which comes fromhere come out. I waited— long hours. At last, when the moon was low,it returned— ecstatically— with a man, a native, in embrace enfolded.It passed through the door, and soon then the moon became low and the doorclosed.
"The next night more confidence was mine, yes. And after that which comeshad gone, I looked through its open door. I said, "It will not return forthree hours. While it is away, why shall I not into its home go through thedoor it has left open?' So I went— even to here. I looked at the pillarsof light and I tested the liquid of the Pool on which they fell. That liquid,Dr. Goodwin, is not water, and it is not any fluid known on earth." He handedme a small vial, its neck held in a long thong.
"Take this," he said, "and see."
Wonderingly, I took the bottle; dipped it down into the Pool. The liquidwas extraordinarily light; seemed, in fact, to give the vial buoyancy. Iheld it to the light. It was striated, streaked, as though little living,pulsing veins ran through it. And its blueness, even in the vial, held anintensity of luminousness.
"Radioactive," said Marakinoff. "Some liquid that is intensely radioactive;but what it is I know not at all. Upon the living skin it acts like radiumraised to the nth power and with an element most mysterious added. The solutionwith which I treated him," he pointed to Huldricksson, "I had prepared beforeI came here, from certain information I had. It is largely salts of radiumand its base is Loeb's formula for the neutralization of radium and X-rayburns. Taking this man at once, before the degeneration had become reallyactive, I could negative it. But after two hours I could have done nothing."
He paused a moment.
"Next I studied the nature of these luminous walls. I concluded that whoeverhad made them, knew the secret of the Almighty's manufacture of light fromthe ether itself! Colossal! Da! But the substance of these blocksconfines an atomic— how would you say— atomic manipulation, a consciousarrangement of electrons, light-emitting and perhaps indefinitely so. Theseblocks are lamps in which oil and wick are— electrons drawing light wavesfrom ether itself! A Prometheus, indeed, this discoverer! I looked at mywatch and that little guardian warned me that it was time to go. I went.That which comes forth returned— this time empty-handed.
"And the next night I did the same thing. Engrossed in research, I let themoments go by to the danger point, and scarcely was I replaced within thevault when the shining thing raced over the walls, and in its grip the womanand child——
"Then you came— and that is all. And now— what is it you know?"
Very briefly I went over my story. His eyes gleamed now and then, but hedid not interrupt me.
"A great secret! A colossal secret!" he muttered, when I had ended. "We cannotleave it hidden."
"The first thing to do is to try the door," said Larry, matter of fact.
"There is no use, my young friend," assured Marakinoff mildly.
"Nevertheless we'll try," said Larry. We retraced our way through the windingtunnel to the end, but soon even O'Keefe saw that any idea of moving theslab from within was hopeless. We returned to the Chamber of the Pool. Thepillars of light were fainter, and we knew that the moon was sinking. Onthe world outside before long dawn would be breaking. I began to feelthirst— and the blue semblance of water within the silvery rim seemedto glint mockingly as my eyes rested on it.
"Da!" it was Marakinoff, reading my thoughts uncannily. "Da!We will be thirsty. And it will be very bad for him of us who loses controland drinks of that, my friend. Da!"
Larry threw back his shoulders as though shaking a burden from them.
"This place would give an angel of joy the willies," he said. "I suggestthat we look around and find something that will take us somewhere. You canbet the people that built it had more ways of getting in than that once-a-monthfamily entrance. Doc, you and Olaf take the left wall; the professor andI will take the right."
He loosened one of his automatics with a suggestive movement.
"After you, Professor," he bowed, politely, to the Russian. We parted andset forth.
The chamber widened out from the portal in what seemed to be the arc of animmense circle. The shining walls held a perceptible curve, and from thiscurvature I estimated that the roof was fully three hundred feet above us.
The floor was of smooth, mosaic-fitted blocks of a faintly yellow tinge.They were not light-emitting like the blocks that formed the walls. The radiancefrom these latter, I noted, had the peculiar quality of thickeninga few yards from its source, and it was this that produced the effect ofmisty, veiled distances. As we walked, the seven columns of rays streamingdown from the crystalline globes high above us waned steadily; the glow withinthe chamber lost its prismatic shimmer and became an even grey tone somewhatlike moonlight in a thin cloud.
Now before us, out from the wall, jutted a low terrace. It was all of a pearlyrose-coloured stone, slender, graceful pillars of the same hue. The faceof the terrace was about ten feet high, and all over it ran a bas-reliefof what looked like short-trailing vines, surmounted by five stalks, on thetip of each of which was a flower.
We passed along the terrace. It turned in an abrupt curve. I heard a hail,and there, fifty feet away, at the curving end of a wall identical with thatwhere we stood, were Larry and Marakinoff. Obviously the left side of thechamber was a duplicate of that we had explored. We joined. In front of usthe columned barriers ran back a hundred feet, forming an alcove. The endof this alcove was another wall of the same rose stone, but upon it the designof vines was much heavier.
We took a step forward— there was a gasp of awe from the Norseman, aguttural exclamation from Marakinoff. For on, or rather within, the wallbefore us, a great oval began to glow, waxed almost to a flame and then shonesteadily out as though from behind it a light was streaming through the stoneitself!
And within the roseate oval two flame-tipped shadows appeared, stood fora moment, and then seemed to float out upon its surface. The shadows wavered;the tips of flame that nimbused them with flickering points of vermilionpulsed outward, drew back, darted forth again, and once more withdrewthemselves— and as they did so the shadows thickened— and suddenlythere before us stood two figures!
One was a girl— a girl whose great eyes were golden as the fabled liliesof Kwan-Yung that were born of the kiss of the sun upon the amber goddessthe demons of Lao-Tz'e carved for him; whose softly curved lips were redas the royal coral, and whose golden-brown hair reached to her knees!
And the second was a gigantic frog— a woman frog, head helmetedwith carapace of shell around which a fillet of brilliant yellow jewels shone;enormous round eyes of blue circled with a broad iris of green; monstrousbody of banded orange and white girdled with strand upon strand of the flashingyellow gems; six feet high if an inch, and with one webbed paw of its short,powerfully muscled forelegs resting upon the white shoulder of the golden-eyedgirl!
Moments must have passed as we stood in stark amazement, gazing at thatincredible apparition. The two figures, although as real as any of thosewho stood beside me, un-phantomlike as it is possible to be, had a distinctsuggestion of— projection.
They were there before us— golden-eyed girl and grotesquefrog-woman— complete in every line and curve; and still it was as thoughtheir bodies passed back through distances; as though, to try to expressthe wellnigh inexpressible, the two shapes we were looking upon were theend of an infinite number stretching in fine linked chain far away, of whichthe eyes saw only the nearest, while in the brain some faculty higher thansight recognized and registered the unseen others.
The gigantic eyes of the frog-woman took us all in— unwinkingly. Littleglints of phosphorescence shone out within the metallic green of the outeriris ring. She stood upright, her great legs bowed; the monstrous slit ofa mouth slightly open, revealing a row of white teeth sharp and pointed aslancets; the paw resting on the girl's shoulder, half covering its silkensurface, and from its five webbed digits long yellow claws of polished hornglistened against the delicate texture of the flesh.
But if the frog-woman regarded us all, not so did the maiden of the rosywall. Her eyes were fastened upon Larry, drinking him in with extraordinaryintentness. She was tall, far over the average of women, almost as tall,indeed, as O'Keefe himself; not more than twenty years old, if that, I thought.Abruptly she leaned forward, the golden eyes softened and grew tender; thered lips moved as though she were speaking.
Larry took a quick step, and his face was that of one who after countlessbirths comes at last upon the twin soul lost to him for ages. The frog-womanturned her eyes upon the girl; her huge lips moved, and I knew that she wastalking! The girl held out a warning hand to O'Keefe, and then raised it,resting each finger upon one of the five flowers of the carved vine closebeside her. Once, twice, three times, she pressed upon the flower centres,and I noted that her hand was curiously long and slender, the digits likethose wonderful tapering ones the painters we call the primitive gave totheir Virgins.
Three times she pressed the flowers, and then looked intently at Larry oncemore. A slow, sweet smile curved the crimson lips. She stretched both handsout toward him again eagerly; a burning blush rose swiftly over white breastsand flowerlike face.
Like the clicking out of a cinematograph, the pulsing oval faded and golden-eyedgirl and frog-woman were gone!
And thus it was that Lakla, the handmaiden of the Silent Ones, and LarryO'Keefe first looked into each other's hearts!
Larry stood rapt, gazing at the stone.
"Eilidh," I heard him whisper; "Eilidh of the lips like the red, red rowanand the golden-brown hair!"
"Clearly of the Ranadae," said Marakinoff, "a development of the fossilLabyrinthodonts: you saw her teeth, da?"
"Ranadae, yes," I answered. "But from the Stegocephalia; of the orderEcaudata——"
Never such a complete indignation as was in O'Keefe's voice as he interrupted.
"What do you mean— fossils and Stego whatever it is?" he asked. "Shewas a girl, a wonder girl— a real girl, and Irish, or I'm not an O'Keefe!"
"We were talking about the frog-woman, Larry," I said, conciliatingly.
His eyes were wild as he regarded us.
"Say," he said, "if you two had been in the Garden of Eden when Eve tookthe apple, you wouldn't have had time to give her a look for counting thescales on the snake!"
He strode swiftly over to the wall. We followed. Larry paused, stretchedhis hand up to the flowers on which the tapering fingers of the golden-eyedgirl had rested.
"It was here she put up her hand," he murmured. He pressed caressingly thecarved calyxes, once, twice, a third time even as she had— and silentlyand softly the wall began to split; on each side a great stone pivoted slowly,and before us a portal stood, opening into a narrow corridor glowing withthe same rosy lustre that had gleamed around the flame-tipped shadows!
"Have your gun ready, Olaf!" said Larry. "We follow Golden Eyes," he saidto me.
"Follow?" I echoed stupidly.
"Follow!" he said. "She came to show us the way! Follow? I'd follow her througha thousand hells!"
And with Olaf at one end, O'Keefe at the other, both of them with automaticsin hand, and Marakinoff and I between them, we stepped over the threshold.
At our right, a few feet away, the passage ended abruptly in a square ofpolished stone, from which came faint rose radiance. The roof of the placewas less than two feet over O'Keefe's head.
A yard at left of us lifted a four-foot high, gently curved barricade, stretchingfrom wall to wall— and beyond it was blackness; an utter and appallingblackness that seemed to gather itself from infinite depths. The rose-glowin which we stood was cut off by the blackness as though it had substance;it shimmered out to meet it, and was checked as though by a blow; indeed,so strong was the suggestion of sinister, straining force within the raylessopacity that I shrank back, and Marakinoff with me. Not so O'Keefe. Olafbeside him, he strode to the wall and peered over. He beckoned us.
"Flash your pocket-light down there," he said to me, pointing into the thickdarkness below us. The little electric circle quivered down as though afraid,and came to rest upon a surface that resembled nothing so much as clear,black ice. I ran the light across— here and there. The floor of the corridorwas of a substance so smooth, so polished, that no man could have walkedupon it; it sloped downward at a slowly increasing angle.
"We'd have to have non-skid chains and brakes on our feet to tackle that,"mused Larry. Abstractedly he ran his hands over the edge on which he wasleaning. Suddenly they hesitated and then gripped tightly.
"That's a queer one!" he exclaimed. His right palm was resting upon a roundedprotuberance, on the side of which were three small circular indentations.
"A queer one——" he repeated— and pressed his fingers upon thecircles.
There was a sharp click; the slabs that had opened to let us through swungswiftly together; a curiously rapid vibration thrilled through us, a windarose and passed over our heads— a wind that grew and grew until it becamea whistling shriek, then a roar and then a mighty humming, to which everyatom in our bodies pulsed in rhythm painful almost to disintegration!
The rosy wall dwindled in a flash to a point of light and disappeared!
Wrapped in the clinging, impenetrable blackness we were racing, dropping,hurling at a frightful speed— where?
And ever that awful humming of the rushing wind and the lightning cleavingof the tangible dark— so, it came to me oddly, must the newly releasedsoul race through the sheer blackness of outer space up to that Throne ofJustice, where God sits high above all suns!
I felt Marakinoff creep close to me; gripped my nerve and flashed mypocket-light; saw Larry standing, peering, peering ahead, and Huldricksson,one strong arm around his shoulders, bracing him. And then the speed beganto slacken.
Millions of miles, it seemed, below the sound of the unearthly hurricaneI heard Larry's voice, thin and ghostlike, beneath its clamour.
"Got it!" shrilled the voice. "Got it! Don't worry!"
The wind died down to the roar, passed back into the whistling shriek anddiminished to a steady whisper. In the comparative quiet O'Keefe's tonesnow came in normal volume.
"Some little shoot-the-chutes, what?" he shouted. "Say— if they had thisat Coney Island or the Crystal Palace! Press all the way in these holes andshe goes top-high. Diminish pressure— diminish speed. The curve ofthis— dashboard— here sends the wind shooting up over ourheads— like a windshield. What's behind you?"
I flashed the light back. The mechanism on which we were ended in anotherwall exactly similar to that over which O'Keefe crouched.
"Well, we can't fall out, anyway," he laughed. "Wish to hell I knew wherethe brakes were! Look out!"
We dropped dizzily down an abrupt, seemingly endless slope; fell— fellas into an abyss— then shot abruptly out of the blackness into a throbbinggreen radiance. O'Keefe's fingers must have pressed down upon the controls,for we leaped forward almost with the speed of light. I caught a glimpseof luminous immensities on the verge of which we flew; of depths inconceivable,and flitting through the incredible spaces— gigantic shadows as of thewings of Israfel, which are so wide, say the Arabs, the world can cower underthem like a nestling— and then— again the living blackness!
"What was that?" This from Larry, with the nearest approach to awe that hehad yet shown.
"Trolldom!" croaked the voice of Olaf.
"Chert!" This from Marakinoff. "What a space!"
"Have you considered, Dr. Goodwin," he went on after a pause, "a curiousthing? We know, or, at least, is it not that nine out of ten astronomersbelieve, that the moon was hurled out of this same region we now call thePacific when the earth was yet like molasses; almost molten, I should say.And is it not curious that that which comes from the Moon Chamber needs themoon-rays to bring it forth; is it not? And is it not significant again thatthe stone depends upon the moon for operating? Da! And last— sucha space in mother earth as we just glimpsed, how else could it have beentorn but by some gigantic birth— like that of the moon? Da! Ido not put forward these as statements of fact— no! But assuggestions——"
I started; there was so much that this might explain— an unknown elementthat responded to the moon-rays in opening the moon door; the blue Pool withits weird radioactivity, and the force within it that reacted to the samelight stream——
It was not inconceivable that a film had drawn over the world wound, a filmof earth-flesh which drew itself over that colossal abyss after our planethad borne its satellite— that world womb did not close when her shiningchild sprang forth— it was possible; and all that we know of earth depthis four miles of her eight thousand.
What is there at the heart of earth? What of that radiant unknown elementupon the moon mount Tycho? What of that element unknown to us as part ofearth which is seen only in the corona of the sun at eclipse that we callcoronium? Yet the earth is child of the sun as the moon is earth's daughter.And what of that other unknown element we find glowing green in the far-flungnebulae— green as that we had just passed through— and that we callnebulium? Yet the sun is child of the nebulae as the earth is child of thesun and the moon is child of the earth.
And what miracles are there in coronium and nebulium which, as the childof nebula and sun, we inherit? Yes— and in Tycho's enigma which camefrom earth heart?
We were flashing down to earth heart! And what miracles were hidden there?
CHAPTER XII
The End of the Journey
"Say Doc!" It was Larry's voice flung back at me. "I was thinking about thatfrog. I think it was her pet. Damn me if I see any difference between a frogand a snake, and one of the nicest women I ever knew had two pet pythonsthat followed her around like kittens. Not such a devilish lot of choicebetween a frog and a snake— except on the side of the frog? What? Anyway,any pet that girl wants is hers, I don't care if it's a leaping twelve-toedlobster or a whale-bodied scorpion. Get me?"
By which I knew that our remarks upon the frog woman were still botheringO'Keefe.
"He thinks of foolish nothings like the foolish sailor!" grunted Marakinoff,acid contempt in his words. "What are their women to— this?" He sweptout a hand and as though at a signal the car poised itself for an instant,then dipped, literally dipped down into sheer space; skimmed forward in whatwas clearly curved flight, rose as upon a sweeping upgrade— and thenbegan swiftly to slacken its fearful speed.
Far ahead a point of light showed; grew steadily; we were within it— andsoftly all movement ceased. How acute had been the strain of our journeyI did not realize until I tried to stand— and sank back, leg-musclestoo shaky to bear my weight. The car rested in a slit in the centre of asmooth walled chamber perhaps twenty feet square. The wall facing us waspierced by a low doorway through which we could see a flight of steps leadingdownward.
The light streamed through a small opening, the base of which was twice atall man's height from the floor. A curving flight of broad, low steps ledup to it. And now it came to my steadying brain that there was somethingpuzzling, peculiar, strangely unfamiliar about this light. It was silvery,shaded faintly with a delicate blue and flushed lightly with a nacreous rose;but a rose that differed from that of the terraces of the Pool Chamber asthe rose within the opal differs from that within the pearl. In it were tiny,gleaming points like the motes in a sunbeam, but sparkling white like thedust of diamonds, and with a quality of vibrant vitality; they were as thoughthey were alive. The light cast no shadows!
A little breeze came through the oval and played about us. It was laden withwhat seemed the mingled breath of spice flowers and pines. It was curiouslyvivifying, and in it the diamonded atoms of light shook and danced.
I stepped out of the car, the Russian following, and began to ascend thecurved steps toward the opening, at the top of which O'Keefe and Olaf alreadystood. As they looked out I saw both their faces change— Olaf's withawe, O'Keefe's with incredulous amaze. I hurried to their side.
At first all that I could see was space— a space filled with the samecoruscating effulgence that pulsed about me. I glanced upward, obeying thatinstinctive impulse of earth folk that bids them seek within the sky forsources of light. There was no sky— at least no sky such as we know— allwas a sparkling nebulosity rising into infinite distances as the azure abovethe day-world seems to fill all the heavens— through it ran pulsing wavesand flashing javelin rays that were like shining shadows of the aurora; echoes,octaves lower, of those brilliant arpeggios and chords that play about thepoles. My eyes fell beneath its splendour; I stared outward.
Miles away, gigantic luminous cliffs sprang sheer from the limits of a lakewhose waters were of milky opalescence. It was from these cliffs that thespangled radiance came, shimmering out from all their lustrous surfaces.To left and to right, as far as the eye could see, they stretched— andthey vanished in the auroral nebulosity on high!
"Look at that!" exclaimed Larry. I followed his pointing finger. On the faceof the shining wall, stretched between two colossal columns, hung an incredibleveil; prismatic, gleaming with all the colours of the spectrum. It was likea web of rainbows woven by the fingers of the daughters of the Jinn. In frontof it and a little at each side was a semi-circular pier, or, better, a plazaof what appeared to be glistening, pale-yellow ivory. At each end of itshalf-circle clustered a few low-walled, rose-stone structures, each of themsurmounted by a number of high, slender pinnacles.
We looked at each other, I think, a bit helplessly— and back again throughthe opening. We were standing, as I have said, at its base. The wall in whichit was set was at least ten feet thick, and so, of course, all that we couldsee of that which was without were the distances that revealed themselvesabove the outer ledge of the oval.
"Let's take a look at what's under us," said Larry.
He crept out upon the ledge and peered down, the rest of us following. Ahundred yards beneath us stretched gardens that must have been like thoseof many-columned Iram, which the ancient Addite King had built for his pleasureages before the deluge, and which Allah, so the Arab legend tells, took andhid from man, within the Sahara, beyond all hope of finding— jealousbecause they were more beautiful than his in paradise. Within them flowersand groves of laced, fern-like trees, pillared pavilions nestled.
The trunks of the trees were of emerald, of vermilion, and of azure-blue,and the blossoms, whose fragrance was borne to us, shone like jewels. Thegraceful pillars were tinted delicately. I noted that the pavilions weredouble— in a way, two-storied— and that they were oddly splotchedwith circles, with squares, and with oblongs of— opacity; noted too thatover many this opacity stretched like a roof; yet it did not seem material;rather was it— impenetrable shadow!
Down through this city of gardens ran a broad shining green thoroughfare,glistening like glass and spanned at regular intervals with graceful, archedbridges. The road flashed to a wide square, where rose, from a base of thatsame silvery stone that formed the lip of the Moon Pool, a titanic structureof seven terraces; and along it flitted objects that bore a curious resemblanceto the shell of the Nautilus. Within them were— human figures! And upontree-bordered promenades on each side walked others!
Far to the right we caught the glint of another emerald-paved road.
And between the two the gardens grew sweetly down to the hither side of thatopalescent water across which were the radiant cliffs and the curtain ofmystery.
Thus it was that we first saw the city of the Dweller; blessed and accursedas no place on earth, or under or above earth has ever been— or, thatforce willing which some call God, ever again shall be!
"Chert!" whispered Marakinoff. "Incredible!"
"Trolldom!" gasped Olaf Huldricksson. "It is Trolldom!"
"Listen, Olaf!" said Larry. "Cut out that Trolldom stuff! There's no Trolldom,or fairies, outside Ireland. Get that! And this isn't Ireland. And, buckup, Professor!" This to Marakinoff. "What you see down there arepeople— just plain people. And wherever there's people is whereI live. Get me?
"There's no way in but in— and no way out but out," said O'Keefe. "Andthere's the stairway. Eggs are eggs no matter how they're cooked— andpeople are just people, fellow travellers, no matter what dish they are in,"he concluded. "Come on!"
With the three of us close behind him, he marched toward the entrance.
CHAPTER XIII
Yolara, Priestess of the Shining One
"You'd better have this handy, Doc." O'Keefe paused at the head of the stairwayand handed me one of the automatics he had taken from Marakinoff.
"Shall I not have one also?" rather anxiously asked the latter.
"When you need it you'll get it," answered O'Keefe. "I'll tell you frankly,though, Professor, that you'll have to show me before I trust you with agun. You shoot too straight— from cover."
The flash of anger in the Russian's eyes turned to a cold consideration.
"You say always just what is in your mind, Lieutenant O'Keefe," he mused."Da— that I shall remember!" Later I was to recall this oddobservation— and Marakinoff was to remember indeed.
In single file, O'Keefe at the head and Olaf bringing up the rear, we passedthrough the portal. Before us dropped a circular shaft, into which the lightfrom the chamber of the oval streamed liquidly; set in its sides the stepsspiralled, and down them we went, cautiously. The stairway ended in a circularwell; silent— with no trace of exit! The rounded stones joined each otherevenly— hermetically. Carved on one of the slabs was one of the fiveflowered vines. I pressed my fingers upon the calyxes, even as Larry hadwithin the Moon Chamber.
A crack— horizontal, four feet wide— appeared on the wall; widened,and as the sinking slab that made it dropped to the level of our eyes, welooked through a hundred-feet-long rift in the living rock! The stone fellsteadily— and we saw that it was a Cyclopean wedge set within the slitof the passageway. It reached the level of our feet and stopped. At the farend of this tunnel, whose floor was the polished rock that had, a momentbefore, fitted hermetically into its roof, was a low, narrow triangular openingthrough which light streamed.
"Nowhere to go but out!" grinned Larry. "And I'll bet Golden Eyes is waitingfor us with a taxi!" He stepped forward. We followed, slipping, sliding alongthe glassy surface; and I, for one, had a lively apprehension of what ourfate would be should that enormous mass rise before we had emerged! We reachedthe end; crept out of the narrow triangle that was its exit.
We stood upon a wide ledge carpeted with a thick yellow moss. I lookedbehind— and clutched O'Keefe's arm. The door through which we had comehad vanished! There was only a precipice of pale rock, on whose surfacesgreat patches of the amber moss hung; around whose base our ledge ran, andwhose summits, if summits it had, were hidden, like the luminous cliffs,in the radiance above us.
"Nowhere to go but ahead— and Golden Eyes hasn't kept her date!" laughedO'Keefe— but somewhat grimly.
We walked a few yards along the ledge and, rounding a corner, faced the endof one of the slender bridges. From this vantage point the oddly shaped vehicleswere plain, and we could see they were, indeed, like the shell of the Nautilusand elfinly beautiful. Their drivers sat high upon the forward whorl. Theirbodies were piled high with cushions, upon which lay women half-swathed ingay silken webs. From the pavilioned gardens smaller channels of glisteninggreen ran into the broad way, much as automobile runways do on earth; andin and out of them flashed the fairy shells.
There came a shout from one. Its occupants had glimpsed us. They pointed;others stopped and stared; one shell turned and sped up a runway— andquickly over the other side of the bridge came a score of men. They weredwarfed— none of them more than five feet high, prodigiously broad ofshoulder, clearly enormously powerful.
"Trolde!" muttered Olaf, stepping beside O'Keefe, pistol swinging free inhis hand.
But at the middle of the bridge the leader stopped, waved back his men, andcame toward us alone, palms outstretched in the immemorial, universal gestureof truce. He paused, scanning us with manifest wonder; we returned the scrutinywith interest. The dwarf's face was as white as Olaf's— far whiter thanthose of the other three of us; the features clean-cut and noble, almostclassical; the wide set eyes of a curious greenish grey and the black haircurling over his head like that on some old Greek statue.
Dwarfed though he was, there was no suggestion of deformity about him. Thegigantic shoulders were covered with a loose green tunic that looked likefine linen. It was caught in at the waist by a broad girdle studded withwhat seemed to be amazonites. In it was thrust a long curved poniard resemblingthe Malaysian kris. His legs were swathed in the same green cloth as theupper garment. His feet were sandalled.
My gaze returned to his face, and in it I found something subtly disturbing;an expression of half-malicious gaiety that underlay the wholly prepossessingfeatures like a vague threat; a mocking deviltry that hinted at entirecallousness to suffering or sorrow; something of the spirit that was vaguelyalien and disquieting.
He spoke— and, to my surprise, enough of the words were familiar to enableme clearly to catch the meaning of the whole. They were Polynesian, thePolynesian of the Samoans which is its most ancient form, but in some indefinableway— archaic. Later I was to know that the tongue bore the same relationto the Polynesian of today as does not that of Chaucer, but of theVenerable Bede, to modern English. Nor was this to be so astonishing, whenwith the knowledge came the certainty that it was from it the language wecall Polynesian sprang.
"From whence do you come, strangers— and how found you your way here?"said the green dwarf.
I waved my hand toward the cliff behind us. His eyes narrowed incredulously;he glanced at its drop, upon which even a mountain goat could not have madeits way, and laughed.
"We came through the rock," I answered his thought. "And we come in peace,"I added.
"And may peace walk with you," he said half-derisively— "if the ShiningOne wills it!"
He considered us again.
"Show me, strangers, where you came through the rock," he commanded. We ledthe way to where we had emerged from the well of the stairway.
"It was here," I said, tapping the cliff.
"But I see no opening," he said suavely.
"It closed behind us," I answered; and then, for the first time, realizedhow incredible the explanation sounded. The derisive gleam passed throughhis eyes again. But he drew his poniard and gravely sounded the rock.
"You give a strange turn to our speech," he said. "It sounds strangely,indeed— as strange as your answers." He looked at us quizzically. "Iwonder where you learned it! Well, all that you can explain to the AfyoMaie." His head bowed and his arms swept out in a wide salaam. "Be pleasedto come with me!" he ended abruptly.
"In peace?" I asked.
"In peace," he replied— then slowly— "with me at least."
"Oh, come on, Doc!" cried Larry. "As long as we're here let's see the sights.Allons mon vieux!" he called gaily to the green dwarf. The latter,understanding the spirit, if not the words, looked at O'Keefe with a twinkleof approval; turned then to the great Norseman and scanned him with admiration;reached out and squeezed one of the immense biceps.
"Lugur will welcome you, at least," he murmured as though to himself. Hestood aside and waved a hand courteously, inviting us to pass. We crossed.At the base of the span one of the elfin shells was waiting.
Beyond, scores had gathered, their occupants evidently discussing us in muchexcitement. The green dwarf waved us to the piles of cushions and then threwhimself beside us. The vehicle started off smoothly, the now silent throngmaking way, and swept down the green roadway at a terrific pace and whollywithout vibration, toward the seven-terraced tower.
As we flew along I tried to discover the source of the power, but I couldnot— then. There was no sign of mechanism, but that the shell respondedto some form of energy was certain— the driver grasping a small leverwhich seemed to control not only our speed, but our direction.
We turned abruptly and swept up a runway through one of the gardens, andstopped softly before a pillared pavilion. I saw now that these were muchlarger than I had thought. The structure to which we had been carried covered,I estimated, fully an acre. Oblong, with its slender, vari-coloured columnsspaced regularly, its walls were like the sliding screens of theJapanese— shoji.
The green dwarf hurried us up a flight of broad steps flanked by great carvedserpents, winged and scaled. He stamped twice upon mosaicked stones betweentwo of the pillars, and a screen rolled aside, revealing an immense hallscattered about with low divans on which lolled a dozen or more of the dwarfishmen, dressed identically as he.
They sauntered up to us leisurely; the surprised interest in their facestempered by the same inhumanly gay malice that seemed to be characteristicof all these people we had as yet seen.
"The Afyo Maie awaits them, Rador," said one.
The green dwarf nodded, beckoned us, and led the way through the great halland into a smaller chamber whose far side was covered with the opacity Ihad noted from the aerie of the cliff. I examined the— blackness— withlively interest.
It had neither substance nor texture; it was not matter— and yet it suggestedsolidity; an entire cessation, a complete absorption of light; an ebon veilat once immaterial and palpable. I stretched, involuntarily, my hand outtoward it, and felt it quickly drawn back.
"Do you seek your end so soon?" whispered Rador. "But I forget— you donot know," he added. "On your life touch not the blackness, ever.It——"
He stopped, for abruptly in the density a portal appeared; swinging out ofthe shadow like a picture thrown by a lantern upon a screen. Through it wasrevealed a chamber filled with a soft rosy glow. Rising from cushioned couches,a woman and a man regarded us, half leaning over a long, low table of whatseemed polished jet, laden with flowers and unfamiliar fruits.
About the room— that part of it, at least, that I could see— werea few oddly shaped chairs of the same substance. On high, silvery tripodsthree immense globes stood, and it was from them that the rose glow emanated.At the side of the woman was a smaller globe whose roseate gleam was temperedby quivering waves of blue.
"Enter Rador with the strangers!" a clear, sweet voice called.
Rador bowed deeply and stood aside, motioning us to pass. We entered, thegreen dwarf behind us, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the doorwayfade as abruptly as it had appeared and again the dense shadow fill its place.
"Come closer, strangers. Be not afraid!" commanded the bell-toned voice.
We approached.
The woman, sober scientist that I am, made the breath catch in my throat.Never had I seen a woman so beautiful as was Yolara of the Dweller'scity— and none of so perilous a beauty. Her hair was of the colour ofthe young tassels of the corn and coiled in a regal crown above her broad,white brows; her wide eyes were of grey that could change to a corn-flowerblue and in anger deepen to purple; grey or blue, they had little laughingdevils within them, but when the storm of anger darkened them— they werenot laughing, no! The silken webs that half covered, half revealed her didnot hide the ivory whiteness of her flesh nor the sweet curve of shouldersand breasts. But for all her amazing beauty, she was— sinister! Therewas cruelty about the curving mouth, and in the music of her voice— notconscious cruelty, but the more terrifying, careless cruelty of nature itself.
The girl of the rose wall had been beautiful, yes! But her beauty was human,understandable. You could imagine her with a babe in her arms— but youcould not so imagine this woman. About her loveliness hovered somethingunearthly. A sweet feminine echo of the Dweller was Yolara, the Dweller'spriestess— and as gloriously, terrifyingly evil!
CHAPTER XIV
The Justice of Lora
As I looked at her the man arose and made his ay round the table towardus. For the first time my eyes took in Lugur. A few inches taller than thegreen dwarf, he was far broader, more filled with the suggestion of appallingstrength.
The tremendous shoulders were four feet wide if an inch, tapering down tomighty thewed thighs. The muscles of his chest stood out beneath his tunicof red. Around his forehead shone a chaplet of bright-blue stones, sparklingamong the thick curls of his silver-ash hair.
Upon his face pride and ambition were written large— and power stilllarger. All the mockery, the malice, the hint of callous indifference thatI had noted in the other dwarfish men were there, too— but intensified,touched with the satanic.
The woman spoke again.
"Who are you strangers, and how came you here?" She turned to Rador. "Oris it that they do not understand our tongue?"
"One understands and speaks it— but very badly, O Yolara," answered thegreen dwarf.
"Speak, then, that one of you," she commanded.
But it was Marakinoff who found his voice first, and I marvelled at the fluency,so much greater than mine, with which he spoke.
"We came for different purposes. I to seek knowledge of a kind;he"— pointing to me— "of another. This man"— he looked atOlaf— "to find a wife and child."
The grey-blue eyes had been regarding O'Keefe steadily and with plainlyincreasing interest.
"And why did you come?" she asked him. "Nay— I would have himspeak for himself, if he can," she stilled Marakinoff peremptorily.
When Larry spoke it was haltingly, in the tongue that was strange to him,searching for the proper words.
"I came to help these men— and because something I could not then understandcalled me, O lady, whose eyes are like forest pools at dawn," he answered;and even in the unfamiliar words there was a touch of the Irish brogue, andlittle merry lights danced in the eyes Larry had so apostrophized.
"I could find fault with your speech, but none with its burden," she said."What forest pools are I know not, and the dawn has not shone upon the peopleof Lora these many sais of laya.[3] But I sense what you mean!"
[3 Later I was to find that Murian reckoning rested upon theextraordinary increased luminosity of the cliffs at the time of full moonon earth— this action, to my mind, being linked either with the effectof the light streaming globes upon the Moon Pool, whose source was in theshining cliffs, or else upon some mysterious affinity of their radiant elementwith the flood of moonlight on earth— the latter, most probably, becauseeven when the moon must have been clouded above, it made no difference inthe phenomenon. Thirteen of these shinings forth constituted a laya,one of them a lat. Ten was sa; ten times ten times ten asaid, or thousand; ten times a thousand was a sais. Asais of laya was then literally ten thousand years. What wewould call an hour was by them called a va. The whole time system was, ofcourse, a mingling of time as it had been known to their remote, surface-dwellingancestors, and the peculiar determining factors in the vast cavern.
Unquestionably there is a subtle difference between time as we know it andtime in this subterranean land— its progress there being slower. This,however, is only in accord with the well-known doctrine of relativity, whichpredicates both space and time as necessary inventions of the human mindto orient itself to the conditions under which it finds itself. I tried oftento measure this difference, but could never do so to my entire satisfaction.The closest I can come to it is to say that an hour of our time is the equivalentof an hour and five-eighths in Muria. For further information upon this matterof relativity the reader may consult any of the numerous books upon thesubject.— W. T. G.]
The eyes deepened to blue as she regarded him. She smiled.
"Are there many like you in the world from which you come?" she asked softly."Well, we soon shall——"
Lugur interrupted her almost rudely and glowering.
"Best we should know how they came hence," he growled.
She darted a quick look at him, and again the little devils danced in herwondrous eyes.
"Yes, that is true," she said. "How came you here?"
Again it was Marakinoff who answered— slowly, considering every word.
"In the world above," he said, "there are ruins of cities not built by anyof those who now dwell there. To us these places called, and we sought forknowledge of the wise ones who made them. We found a passageway. The wayled us downward to a door in yonder cliff, and through it we came here."
"Then have you found what you sought?" spoke she. "For we are of those whobuilt the cities. But this gateway in the rock— where is it?"
"After we passed, it closed upon us; nor could we after find trace of it,"answered Marakinoff.
The incredulity that had shown upon the face of the green dwarf fell upontheirs; on Lugur's it was clouded with furious anger.
He turned to Rador.
"I could find no opening, lord," said the green dwarf quickly.
And there was so fierce a fire in the eyes of Lugur as he swung back uponus that O'Keefe's hand slipped stealthily down toward his pistol.
"Best it is to speak truth to Yolara, priestess of the Shining One, and toLugur, the Voice," he cried menacingly.
"It is the truth," I interposed. "We came down the passage. At its end wasa carved vine, a vine of five flowers"— the fire died from the red dwarf'seyes, and I could have sworn to a swift pallor. "I rested a hand upon theseflowers, and a door opened. But when we had gone through it and turned, behindus was nothing but unbroken cliff. The door had vanished."
I had taken my cue from Marakinoff. If he had eliminated the episode of carand Moon Pool, he had good reason, I had no doubt; and I would be as cautious.And deep within me something cautioned me to say nothing of my quest; tostifle all thought of Throckmartin— something that warned, peremptorily,finally, as though it were a message from Throckmartin himself!
"A vine with five flowers!" exclaimed the red dwarf. "Was it like this, say?"
He thrust forward a long arm. Upon the thumb of the hand was an immense ring,set with a dull-blue stone. Graven on the face of the jewel was the symbolof the rosy walls of the Moon Chamber that had opened to us their two portals.But cut over the vine were seven circles, one about each of the flowers andtwo larger ones covering, intersecting them.
"This is the same," I said; "but these were not there"— I indicated thecircles.
The woman drew a deep breath and looked deep into Lugur's eyes.
"The sign of the Silent Ones!" he half whispered.
It was the woman who first recovered herself.
"The strangers are weary, Lugur," she said. "When they are rested they shallshow where the rocks opened."
I sensed a subtle change in their attitude toward us; a new intentness; adoubt plainly tinged with apprehension. What was it they feared? Why hadthe symbol of the vine wrought the change? And who or what were the SilentOnes?
Yolara's eyes turned to Olaf, hardened, and grew cold grey. SubconsciouslyI had noticed that from the first the Norseman had been absorbed in his regardof the pair; had, indeed, never taken his gaze from them; had noticed, too,the priestess dart swift glances toward him.
He returned her scrutiny fearlessly, a touch of contempt in the cleareyes— like a child watching a snake which he did not dread, but whosedanger he well knew.
Under that look Yolara stirred impatiently, sensing, I know, its meaning.
"Why do you look at me so?" she cried.
An expression of bewilderment passed over Olaf's face.
"I do not understand," he said in English.
I caught a quickly repressed gleam in O'Keefe's eyes. He knew, as I knew,that Olaf must have understood. But did Marakinoff?
Apparently he did not. But why was Olaf feigning ignorance?
"This man is a sailor from what we call the North," thus Larry haltingly."He is crazed, I think. He tells a strange tale— of a something of coldfire that took his wife and babe. We found him wandering where we were. Andbecause he is strong we brought him with us. That is all, O lady, whose voiceis sweeter than the honey of the wild bees!"
"A shape of cold fire?" she repeated.
"A shape of cold fire that whirled beneath the moon, with the sound of littlebells," answered Larry, watching her intently.
She looked at Lugur and laughed.
"Then he, too, is fortunate," she said. "For he has come to the place ofhis something of cold fire— and tell him that he shall join his wifeand child, in time; that I promise him."
Upon the Norseman's face there was no hint of comprehension, and at thatmoment I formed an entirely new opinion of Olaf's intelligence; for certainlyit must have been a prodigious effort of the will, indeed, that enabled him,understanding, to control himself.
"What does she say?" he asked.
Larry repeated.
"Good!" said Olaf. "Good!"
He looked at Yolara with well-assumed gratitude. Lugur, who had been scanninghis bulk, drew close. He felt the giant muscles which Huldrickssonaccommodatingly flexed for him.
"But he shall meet Valdor and Tahola before he sees those kin of his," helaughed mockingly. "And if he bests them— for reward— his wife andbabe!"
A shudder, quickly repressed, shook the seaman's frame. The woman bent hersupremely beautiful head.
"These two," she said, pointing to the Russian and to me, "seem to be menof learning. They may be useful. As for this man,"— she smiled atLarry— "I would have him explain to me some things." She hesitated. "What'hon-ey of 'e wild bees-s' is." Larry had spoken the words in English, andshe was trying to repeat them. "As for this man, the sailor, do as you pleasewith him, Lugur; always remembering that I have given my word that he shalljoin that wife and babe of his!" She laughed sweetly, sinisterly. "Andnow— take them, Rador— give them food and drink and let them resttill we shall call them again."
She stretched out a hand toward O'Keefe. The Irishman bowed low over it,raised it softly to his lips. There was a vicious hiss from Lugur; but Yolararegarded Larry with eyes now all tender blue.
"You please me," she whispered.
And the face of Lugur grew darker.
We turned to go. The rosy, azure-shot globe at her side suddenly dulled.From it came a faint bell sound as of chimes far away. She bent over it.It vibrated, and then its surface ran with little waves of dull colour; fromit came a whispering so low that I could not distinguish the words— ifwords they were.
She spoke to the red dwarf.
"They have brought the three who blasphemed the Shining One," she said slowly."Now it is in my mind to show these strangers the justice of Lora. What sayyou, Lugur?"
The red dwarf nodded, his eyes sparkling with a malicious anticipation.
The woman spoke again to the globe. "Bring them here!"
And again it ran swiftly with its film of colours, darkened, and shone rosyonce more. From without there came a rustle of many feet upon the rugs. Yolarapressed a slender hand upon the base of the pedestal of the globe besideher. Abruptly the light faded from all, and on the same instant the fourwalls of blackness vanished, revealing on two sides the lovely, unfamiliargarden through the guarding rows of pillars; at our backs soft draperieshid what lay beyond; before us, flanked by flowered screens, was the corridorthrough which we had entered, crowded now by the green dwarfs of the greathall.
The dwarfs advanced. Each, I now noted, had the same clustering black hairof Rador. They separated, and from them stepped three figures— a youthof not more than twenty, short, but with the great shoulders of all the maleswe had seen of this race; a girl of seventeen, I judged, white-faced, a headtaller than the boy, her long, black hair dishevelled; and behind these twoa stunted, gnarled shape whose head was sunk deep between the enormous shoulders,whose white beard fell like that of some ancient gnome down to his waist,and whose eyes were a white flame of hate. The girl cast herself weepingat the feet of the priestess; the youth regarded her curiously.
"You are Songar of the Lower Waters?" murmured Yolara almost caressingly."And this is your daughter and her lover?"
The gnome nodded, the flame in his eyes leaping higher.
"It has come to me that you three have dared blaspheme the Shining One, itspriestess, and its Voice," went on Yolara smoothly. "Also that you have calledout to the three Silent Ones. Is it true?"
"Your spies have spoken— and have you not already judged us?" The voiceof the old dwarf was bitter.
A flicker shot through the eyes of Yolara, again cold grey. The girl reacheda trembling hand out to the hem of the priestess's veils.
"Tell us why you did these things, Songar," she said. "Why you did them,knowing full well what your— reward— would be."
The dwarf stiffened; he raised his withered arms, and his eyes blazed.
"Because evil are your thoughts and evil are your deeds," he cried. "Yoursand your lover's, there"— he levelled a finger at Lugur. "Because ofthe Shining One you have made evil, too, and the greater wickedness youcontemplate— you and he with the Shining One. But I tell you that yourmeasure of iniquity is full; the tale of your sin near ended! Yea— theSilent Ones have been patient, but soon they will speak." He pointed at us."A sign are they— a warning— harlot!" He spat the word.
In Yolara's eyes, grown black, the devils leaped unrestrained.
"Is it even so, Songar?" her voice caressed. "Now ask the Silent Ones tohelp you! They sit afar— but surely they will hear you." The sweet voicewas mocking. "As for these two, they shall pray to the Shining One forforgiveness— and surely the Shining One will take them to its bosom!As for you— you have lived long enough, Songar! Pray to the Silent Ones,Songar, and pass out into the nothingness— you!"
She dipped down into her bosom and drew forth something that resembled asmall cone of tarnished silver. She levelled it, a covering clicked fromits base, and out of it darted a slender ray of intense green light.
It struck the old dwarf squarely over the heart, and spread swift as lightitself, covering him with a gleaming, pale film. She clenched her hand uponthe cone, and the ray disappeared. She thrust the cone back into her breastand leaned forward expectantly; so Lugur and so the other dwarfs. From thegirl came a low wail of anguish; the boy dropped upon his knees, coveringhis face.
For the moment the white beard stood rigid; then the robe that had coveredhim seemed to melt away, revealing all the knotted, monstrous body. And inthat body a vibration began, increasing to incredible rapidity. It waveredbefore us like a reflection in a still pond stirred by a sudden wind. Itgrew and grew— to a rhythm whose rapidity was intolerable to watch andthat still chained the eyes.
The figure grew indistinct, misty. Tiny sparks in infinite numbers leapedfrom it— like, I thought, the radiant shower of particles hurled outby radium when seen under the microscope. Mistier still it grew— theretrembled before us for a moment a faintly luminous shadow which held, hereand there, tiny sparkling atoms like those that pulsed in the light aboutus! The glowing shadow vanished, the sparkling atoms were still for amoment— and shot away, joining those dancing others.
Where the gnomelike form had been but a few seconds before— there wasnothing!
O'Keefe drew a long breath, and I was sensible of a prickling along my scalp.
Yolara leaned toward us.
"You have seen," she said. Her eyes lingered tigerishly upon Olaf's pallidface. "Heed!" she whispered. She turned to the men in green, who were laughingsoftly among themselves.
"Take these two, and go!" she commanded.
"The justice of Lora," said the red dwarf. "The justice of Lora and the ShiningOne under Thanaroa!"
Upon the utterance of the last word I saw Marakinoff start violently. Thehand at his side made a swift, surreptitious gesture, so fleeting that Ihardly caught it. The red dwarf stared at the Russian, and there was amazementupon his face.
Swiftly as Marakinoff, he returned it.
"Yolara," the red dwarf spoke, "it would please me to take this man of wisdomto my own place for a time. The giant I would have, too."
The woman awoke from her brooding; nodded.
"As you will, Lugur," she said.
And as, shaken to the core, we passed out into the garden into the full throbbingof the light, I wondered if all the tiny sparkling diamond points that shookabout us had once been men like Songar of the Lower Waters— and feltmy very soul grow sick!
CHAPTER XV
The Angry, Whispering Globe
Our way led along a winding path between banked masses of softly radiantblooms, groups of feathery ferns whose plumes were starred with fragrantwhite and blue flowerets, slender creepers swinging from the branches ofthe strangely trunked trees, bearing along their threads orchid-like blossomsboth delicately frail and gorgeously flamboyant.
The path we trod was an exquisite mosaic— pastel greens and pinks upona soft grey base, garlands of nimbused forms like the flaming rose of theRosicrucians held in the mouths of the flying serpents. A smaller pavilionarose before us, single-storied, front wide open.
Upon its threshold Rador paused, bowed deeply, and motioned us within. Thechamber we entered was large, closed on two sides by screens of grey; atthe back gay, concealing curtains. The low table of blue stone, dressed withfine white cloths, stretched at one side flanked by the cushioned divans.
At the left was a high tripod bearing one of the rosy globes we had seenin the house of Yolara; at the head of the table a smaller globe similarto the whispering one. Rador pressed upon its base, and two other screensslid into place across the entrance, shutting in the room.
He clapped his hands; the curtains parted, and two girls came through them.Tall and willow lithe, their bluish-black hair falling in ringlets just belowtheir white shoulders, their clear eyes of forget-me-not blue, and skinsof extraordinary fineness and purity— they were singularly attractive.Each was clad in an extremely scanty bodice of silken blue, girdled abovea kirtle that came barely to their very pretty knees.
"Food and drink," ordered Rador.
They dropped back through the curtains.
"Do you like them?" he asked us.
"Some chickens!" said Larry. "They delight the heart," he translated forRador.
The green dwarf's next remark made me gasp.
"They are yours," he said.
Before I could question him further upon this extraordinary statement thepair re-entered, bearing a great platter on which were small loaves, strangefruits, and three immense flagons of rock crystal— two filled with aslightly sparkling yellow liquid and the third with a purplish drink. I becameacutely sensible that it had been hours since I had either eaten or drunk.The yellow flagons were set before Larry and me, the purple at Rador's hand.
The girls, at his signal, again withdrew. I raised my glass to my lips andtook a deep draft. The taste was unfamiliar but delightful.
Almost at once my fatigue disappeared. I realized a clarity of mind, aninteresting exhilaration and sense of irresponsibility, of freedom from care,that were oddly enjoyable. Larry became immediately his old gay self.
The green dwarf regarded us whimsically, sipping from his great flagon ofrock crystal.
"Much do I desire to know of that world you came from," he said atlast— "through the rocks," he added, slyly.
"And much do we desire to know of this world of yours, O Rador," I answered.
Should I ask him of the Dweller; seek from him a clue to Throckmartin? Again,clearly as a spoken command, came the warning to forbear, to wait. And oncemore I obeyed.
"Let us learn, then, from each other." The dwarf was laughing. "Andfirst— are all above like you— drawn out"— he made an expressivegesture— "and are there many of you?"
"There are——" I hesitated, and at last spoke the Polynesian thatmeans tens upon tens multiplied indefinitely— "there are as many as thedrops of water in the lake we saw from the ledge where you found us," Icontinued; "many as the leaves on the trees without. And they are all likeus— varyingly."
He considered skeptically, I could see, my remark upon our numbers.
"In Muria," he said at last, "the men are like me or like Lugur. Our womenare as you see them— like Yolara or those two who served you." He hesitated."And there is a third; but only one."
Larry leaned forward eagerly.
"Brown-haired with glints of ruddy bronze, golden-eyed, and lovely as a dream,with long, slender, beautiful hands?" he cried.
"Where saw you her?" interrupted the dwarf, starting to his feet.
"Saw her?" Larry recovered himself. "Nay, Rador, perhaps, I only dreamedthat there was such a woman."
"See to it, then, that you tell not your dream to Yolara," said the dwarfgrimly. "For her I meant and her you have pictured is Lakla, the hand-maidento the Silent Ones, and neither Yolara nor Lugur, nay, nor the Shining One,love her overmuch, stranger."
"Does she dwell here?" Larry's face was alight.
The dwarf hesitated, glanced about him anxiously.
"Nay," he answered, "ask me no more of her." He was silent for a space. "Andwhat do you who are as leaves or drops of water do in that world of yours?"he said, plainly bent on turning the subject.
"Keep off the golden-eyed girl, Larry," I interjected. "Wait till we findout why she's tabu."
"Love and battle, strive and accomplish and die; or fail and die," answeredLarry— to Rador— giving me a quick nod of acquiescence to my warningin English.
"In that at least your world and mine differ little," said the dwarf.
"How great is this world of yours, Rador?" I spoke.
He considered me gravely.
"How great indeed I do not know," he said frankly at last. "The land wherewe dwell with the Shining One stretches along the white waters for——"He used a phrase of which I could make nothing. "Beyond this city of theShining One and on the hither shores of the white waters dwell the mayialadala— the common ones." He took a deep draft from his flagon. "Thereare, first, the fair-haired ones, the children of the ancient rulers," hecontinued. "There are, second, we the soldiers; and last, the mayialadala, who dig and till and weave and toil and give our rulers and ustheir daughters, and dance with the Shining One!" he added.
"Who rules?" I asked.
"The fair-haired, under the Council of Nine, who are under Yolara, the Priestessand Lugur, the Voice," he answered, "who are in turn beneath the ShiningOne!" There was a ring of bitter satire in the last.
"And those three who were judged?"— this from Larry.
"They were of the mayia ladala," he replied, "like those two I gaveyou. But they grow restless. They do not like to dance with the ShiningOne— the blasphemers!" He raised his voice in a sudden great shout ofmocking laughter.
In his words I caught a fleeting picture of the race— an ancient, luxurious,close-bred oligarchy clustered about some mysterious deity; a soldier classthat supported them; and underneath all the toiling, oppressed hordes.
"And is that all?" asked Larry.
"No," he answered. "There is the Sea of Crimson where——"
Without warning the globe beside us sent out a vicious note, Rador turnedtoward it, his face paling. Its surface crawled with whisperings— angry,peremptory!
"I hear!" he croaked, gripping the table. "I obey!"
He turned to us a face devoid for once of its malice.
"Ask me no more questions, strangers," he said. "And now, if you are done,I will show you where you may sleep and bathe."
He arose abruptly. We followed him through the hangings, passed through acorridor and into another smaller chamber, roofless, the sides walled withscreens of dark grey. Two cushioned couches were there and a curtained doorleading into an open, outer enclosure in which a fountain played within awide pool.
"Your bath," said Rador. He dropped the curtain and came back into the room.He touched a carved flower at one side. There was a tiny sighing from overheadand instantly across the top spread a veil of blackness, impenetrable tolight but certainly not to air, for through it pulsed little breaths of thegarden fragrances. The room filled with a cool twilight, refreshing,sleep-inducing. The green dwarf pointed to the couches.
"Sleep!" he said. "Sleep and fear nothing. My men are on guard outside."He came closer to us, the old mocking gaiety sparkling in his eyes.
"But I spoke too quickly," he whispered. "Whether it is because the AfyoMaie fears their tongues— or——" he laughed at Larry. "Themaids are not yours!" Still laughing he vanished through the curtainsof the room of the fountain before I could ask him the meaning of his curiousgift, its withdrawal, and his most enigmatic closing remarks.
"Back in the great old days of Ireland," thus Larry breaking into my thoughtsraptly, the brogue thick, "there was Cairill mac Cairill— Cairill Swiftspear.An' Cairill wronged Keevan of Emhain Abhlach, of the blood of Angus of thegreat people when he was sleeping in the likeness of a pale reed. Then Keevanput this penance on Cairill— that for a year Cairill should wear hisbody in Emhain Abhlach, which is the Land of Faery and for that year Keevanshould wear the body of Cairill. And it was done.
"In that year Cairill met Emar of the Birds that are one white, one red,and one black— and they loved, and from that love sprang Ailill theirson. And when Ailill was born he took a reed flute and first he played slumberon Cairill, and then he played old age so that Cairill grew white and withered;then Ailill played again and Cairill became a shadow— then a shadow ofa shadow— then a breath; and the breath went out upon the wind!" He shivered."Like the old gnome," he whispered, "that they called Songar of the LowerWaters!"
He shook his head as though he cast a dream from him. Then, allalert——
"But that was in Iceland ages agone. And there's nothing like that here,Doc!" He laughed. "It doesn't scare me one little bit, old boy. The prettydevil lady's got the wrong slant. When you've had a pal standing beside youone moment— full of life, and joy, and power, and potentialities, tellingwhat he's going to do to make the world hum when he gets through the slaughter,just running over with zip and pep of life, Doc— and the next instant,right in the middle of a laugh— a piece of damned shell takes off halfhis head and with it joy and power and all the rest of it"— his facetwitched— "well, old man, in the face of that mystery a disappearingact such as the devil lady treated us to doesn't make much of a dent. Noton me. But by the brogans of Brian Boru— if we could have had some ofthat stuff to turn on during the war— oh, boy!"
He was silent, evidently contemplating the idea with vast pleasure. And asfor me, at that moment my last doubt of Larry O'Keefe vanished, I saw thathe did believe, really believed, in his banshees, his leprechauns and allthe old dreams of the Gael— but only within the limits of Ireland.
In one drawer of his mind was packed all his superstition, his mysticism,and what of weakness it might carry. But face him with any peril or problemand the drawer closed instantaneously leaving a mind that was utterly fearless,incredulous, and ingenious; swept clean of all cobwebs by as fine a skepticbroom as ever brushed a brain.
"Some stuff!" Deepest admiration was in his voice. "If we'd only had it whenthe war was on— imagine half a dozen of us scooting over the enemy batteriesand the gunners underneath all at once beginning to shake themselves to pieces!Wow!" His tone was rapturous.
"It's easy enough to explain, Larry," I said. "The effect, that is— forwhat the green ray is made of I don't know, of course. But what it does,clearly, is stimulate atomic vibration to such a pitch that the cohesionbetween the particles of matter is broken and the body flies to bits— justas a flywheel does when its speed gets so great that the particles of whichit is made can't hold together."
"Shake themselves to pieces is right, then!" he exclaimed.
"Absolutely right," I nodded. "Everything in Nature vibrates. And allmatter— whether man or beast or stone or metal or vegetable— is madeup of vibrating molecules, which are made up of vibrating atoms which aremade up of truly infinitely small particles of electricity called electrons,and electrons, the base of all matter, are themselves perhaps only a vibrationof the mysterious ether.
"If a magnifying glass of sufficient size and strength could be placed overus we could see ourselves as sieves— our space lattice, as it is called.And all that is necessary to break down the lattice, to shake us intonothingness, is some agent that will set our atoms vibrating at such a ratethat at last they escape the unseen cords and fly off.
"The green ray of Yolara is such an agent. It set up in the dwarf that incrediblyrapid rhythm that you saw and— shook him not to atoms— but to electrons!"
"They had a gun on the West Front— a seventy-five," said O'Keefe, "thatbroke the eardrums of everybody who fired it, no matter what protection theyused. It looked like all the other seventy-fives— but there was somethingabout its sound that did it. They had to recast it."
"It's practically the same thing," I replied. "By some freak its vibratoryqualities had that effect. The deep whistle of the sunken Lusitaniawould, for instance, make the Singer Building shake to its foundations; whilethe Olympic did not affect the Singer at all but made the Woolworthshiver all through. In each case they stimulated the atomic vibration ofthe particular building——"
I paused, aware all at once of an intense drowsiness. O'Keefe, yawning, reacheddown to unfasten his puttees.
"Lord, I'm sleepy!" he exclaimed. "Can't understand it— what yousay— most— interesting— Lord!" he yawned again; straightened."What made Reddy take such a shine to the Russian?" he asked.
"Thanaroa," I answered, fighting to keep my eyes open.
"What?"
"When Lugur spoke that name I saw Marakinoff signal him. Thanaroa is, I suspect,the original form of the name of Tangaroa, the greatest god of the Polynesians.There's a secret cult to him in the islands. Marakinoff may belong to it— heknows it anyway. Lugur recognized the signal and despite his surprise answeredit."
"So he gave him the high sign, eh?" mused Larry. "How could they both knowit?"
"The cult is a very ancient one. Undoubtedly it had its origin in the dimbeginnings before these people migrated here," I replied. "It's alink— one— of the few links between up there and the lostpast——"
"Trouble then," mumbled Larry. "Hell brewing! I smell it— Say, Doc, isthis sleepiness natural? Wonder where my— gas mask— is——"he added, half incoherently.
But I myself was struggling desperately against the drugged slumber pressingdown upon me.
"Lakla!" I heard O'Keefe murmur. "Lakla of the golden eyes— noEilidh— the Fair!" He made an immense effort, half raised himself, grinnedfaintly.
"Thought this was paradise when I first saw it, Doc," he sighed. "But I knownow, if it is, No-Man's Land was the greatest place on earth for a honeymoon.They— they've got us, Doc——" He sank back. "Good luck, oldboy, wherever you're going." His hand waved feebly. "Glad— knew— you.Hope— see— you— 'gain——"
His voice trailed into silence. Fighting, fighting with every fibre of brainand nerve against the sleep, I felt myself being steadily overcome. Yet beforeoblivion rushed down upon me I seemed to see upon the grey-screened wallnearest the Irishman an oval of rosy light begin to glow; watched, as myfalling lids inexorably fell, a flame-tipped shadow waver on it; thicken;condense— and there looking down upon Larry, her eyes great golden starsin which intensest curiosity and shy tenderness struggled, sweet mouth halfsmiling, was the girl of the Moon Pool's Chamber, the girl whom the greendwarf had named— Lakla; the vision Larry had invoked before that sleepwhich I could no longer deny had claimed him——
Closer she came— closer— the eyes were over us.
Then oblivion indeed!
CHAPTER XVI
Yolara of Muria vs. the O'Keefe
I awakened with all the familiar, homely sensation of a shade having beenpulled up in a darkened room. I thrilled with a wonderful sense of deep restand restored resiliency. The ebon shadow had vanished from above and downinto the room was pouring the silvery light. From the fountain pool camea mighty splashing and shouts of laughter. I jumped and drew the curtain.O'Keefe and Rador were swimming a wild race; the dwarf like an otter,out-distancing and playing around the Irishman at will.
Had that overpowering sleep— and now I confess that my struggle againstit had been largely inspired by fear that it was the abnormal slumber whichThrockmartin had described as having heralded the approach of the Dwellerbefore it had carried away Thora and Stanton— had that sleep been afterall nothing but natural reaction of tired nerves and brains?
And that last vision of the golden-eyed girl bending over Larry? Had thatalso been a delusion of an over-stressed mind? Well, it might have been,I could not tell. At any rate, I decided, I would speak about it to O'Keefeonce we were alone again— and then giving myself up to the urge of buoyantwell-being I shouted like a boy, stripped and joined the two in the pool.The water was warm and I felt the unwonted tingling of life in every veinincrease; something from it seemed to pulse through the skin, carrying aclean vigorous vitality that toned every fibre. Tiring at last, we swam tothe edge and drew ourselves out. The green dwarf quickly clothed himselfand Larry rather carefully donned his uniform.
"The Afyo Maie has summoned us, Doc," he said. "We'reto— well— I suppose you'd call it breakfast with her. After that,Rador tells me, we're to have a session with the Council of Nine. I supposeYolara is as curious as any lady of— the upper world, as you might putit— and just naturally can't wait," he added.
He gave himself a last shake, patted the automatic hidden under his leftarm, whistled cheerfully.
"After you, my dear Alphonse," he said to Rador, with a low bow. The dwarflaughed, bent in an absurd imitation of Larry's mocking courtesy and startedahead of us to the house of the priestess. When he had gone a little wayon the orchid-walled path I whispered to O'Keefe:
"Larry, when you were falling off to sleep— did you think you saw anything?"
"See anything!" he grinned. "Doc, sleep hit me like a Hun shell. I thoughtthey were pulling the gas on us. I— I had some intention of bidding youtender farewells," he continued, half sheepishly. "I think I did start 'em,didn't I?"
I nodded.
"But wait a minute——" he hesitated. "I had a queer sort ofdream——"
"What was it?" I asked eagerly.
"Well," he answered slowly, "I suppose it was because I'd been thinkingof— Golden Eyes. Anyway, I thought she came through the wall and leanedover me— yes, and put one of those long white hands of hers on myhead— I couldn't raise my lids— but in some queer way I could seeher. Then it got real dreamish. Why do you ask?"
Rador turned back toward us.
"Later," I answered. "Not now. When we're alone."
But through me went a little glow of reassurance. Whatever the maze throughwhich we were moving; whatever of menacing evil lurking there— the GoldenGirl was clearly watching over us; watching with whatever unknown powersshe could muster.
We passed the pillared entrance; went through a long bowered corridor andstopped before a door that seemed to be sliced from a monolith of palejade— high, narrow, set in a wall of opal.
Rador stamped twice and the same supernally sweet, silver bell tonesof— yesterday, I must call it, although in that place of eternal daythe term is meaningless— bade us enter. The door slipped aside. The chamberwas small, the opal walls screening it on three sides, the black opacitycovering it, the fourth side opening out into a delicious little walledgarden— a mass of the fragrant, luminous blooms and delicately coloredfruit. Facing it was a small table of reddish wood and from the omnipresentcushions heaped around it arose to greet us— Yolara.
Larry drew in his breath with an involuntary gasp of admiration and bowedlow. My own admiration was as frank— and the priestess was well pleasedwith our homage.
She was swathed in the filmy, half-revelant webs, now of palest blue. Thecorn-silk hair was caught within a wide-meshed golden net in which sparkledtiny brilliants, like blended sapphires and diamonds. Her own azure eyessparkled as brightly as they, and I noted again in their clear depths thehalf-eager approval as they rested upon O'Keefe's lithe, well-knit figureand his keen, clean-cut face. The high-arched, slender feet rested upon softsandals whose gauzy withes laced the exquisitely formed leg to just belowthe dimpled knee.
"Some giddy wonder!" exclaimed Larry, looking at me and placing a hand overhis heart. "Put her on a New York roof and she'd empty Broadway. Take thecue from me, Doc."
He turned to Yolara, whose face was somewhat puzzled.
"I said, O lady whose shining hair is a web for hearts, that in our worldyour beauty would dazzle the sight of men as would a little woman sun!" hesaid, in the florid imagery to which the tongue lends itself so well.
A flush stole up through the translucent skin. The blue eyes softened andshe waved us toward the cushions. Black-haired maids stole in, placing beforeus the fruits, the little loaves and a steaming drink somewhat the colourand odor of chocolate. I was conscious of outrageous hunger.
"What are you named, strangers?" she asked.
"This man is named Goodwin," said O'Keefe. "As for me, call me Larry."
"Nothing like getting acquainted quick," he said to me— but kept hiseyes upon Yolara as though he were voicing another honeyed phrase. And soshe took it, for: "You must teach me your tongue," she murmured.
"Then shall I have two words where now I have one to tell you of yourloveliness," he answered.
"And also that'll take time," he spoke to me. "Essential occupation out ofwhich we can't be drafted to make these fun-loving folk any Roman holiday.Get me!"
"Larree," mused Yolara. "I like the sound. It is sweet——"and indeed it was as she spoke it.
"And what is your land named, Larree?" she continued. "And Goodwin's?"She caught the sound perfectly.
"My land, O lady of loveliness, is two— Ireland and America; his butone— America."
She repeated the two names— slowly, over and over. We seized the opportunityto attack the food; halting half guiltily as she spoke again.
"Oh, but you are hungry!" she cried. "Eat then." She leaned her chin uponher hands and regarded us, whole fountains of questions brimming up in hereyes.
"How is it, Larree, that you have two countries and Goodwin but one?"she asked, at last unable to keep silent longer.
"I was born in Ireland; he in America. But I have dwelt long in his landand my heart loves each," he said.
She nodded, understandingly.
"Are all the men of Ireland like you, Larree? As all the men hereare like Lugur or Rador? I like to look at you," she went on, with naivefrankness. "I am tired of men like Lugur and Rador. But they are strong,"she added, swiftly. "Lugur can hold up ten in his two arms and raise sixwith but one hand."
We could not understand her numerals and she raised white fingers to illustrate.
"That is little, O lady, to the men of Ireland," replied O'Keefe. "Lo, Ihave seen one of my race hold up ten times ten of our— what call youthat swift thing in which Rador brought us here?"
"Corial," said she.
"Hold up ten times twenty of our corials with but two fingers— andthese corials of ours——"
"Coria," said she.
"And these coria of ours are each greater in weight than ten of yours. Yes,and I have seen another with but one blow of his hand raise hell!
"And so I have," he murmured to me. "And both at Forty-second and Fifth Avenue,N. Y.— U. S. A."
Yolara considered all this with manifest doubt.
"Hell?" she inquired at last. "I know not the word."
"Well," answered O'Keefe. "Say Muria then. In many ways they are, I gather,O heart's delight, one and the same."
Now the doubt in the blue eyes was strong indeed. She shook her head.
"None of our men can do that!" she answered, at length. "Nor do Ithink you could, Larree."
"Oh, no," said Larry easily. "I never tried to be that strong. I fly," headded, casually.
The priestess rose to her feet, gazing at him with startled eyes.
"Fly!" she repeated incredulously. "Like a Zitia? A bird?"
Larry nodded— and then seeing the dawning command in her eyes, went onhastily.
"Not with my own wings, Yolara. In a— a corial that movesthrough— what's the word for air, Doc— well, through this——"He made a wide gesture up toward the nebulous haze above us. He took a penciland on a white cloth made a hasty sketch of an airplane. "In a— a coriallike this——" She regarded the sketch gravely, thrust a hand downinto her girdle and brought forth a keen-bladed poniard; cut Larry's markingsout and placed the fragment carefully aside.
"That I can understand," she said.
"Remarkably intelligent young woman," muttered O'Keefe. "Hope I'm not givinganything away— but she had me."
"But what are your women like, Larree? Are they like me? And how manyhave loved you?" she whispered.
"In all Ireland and America there is none like you, Yolara," he answered."And take that any way you please," he muttered in English. She took it,it was evident, as it most pleased her.
"Do you have goddesses?" she asked.
"Every woman in Ireland and America, is a goddess"; thus Larry.
"Now that I do not believe." There was both anger and mockery in her eyes."I know women, Larree— and if that were so there would be no peacefor men."
"There isn't!" replied he. The anger died out and she laughed, sweetly,understandingly.
"And which goddess do you worship, Larree?"
"You!" said Larry O'Keefe boldly.
"Larry! Larry!" I whispered. "Be careful. It's high explosive."
But the priestess was laughing— little trills of sweet bell notes; andpleasure was in each note.
"You are indeed bold, Larree," she said, "to offer me your worship.Yet am I pleased by your boldness. Still— Lugur is strong; and you arenot of those who— what did you say— have tried. And your wings arenot here— Larree!"
Again her laughter rang out. The Irishman flushed; it was touche' for Yolara!
"Fear not for me with Lugur," he said, grimly. "Rather fear for him!"
The laughter died; she looked at him searchingly; a little enigmatic smileabout her mouth— so sweet and so cruel.
"Well— we shall see," she murmured. "You say you battle in your world.With what?"
"Oh, with this and with that," answered Larry, airily. "We manage——"
"Have you the Keth— I mean that with which I sent Songar intothe nothingness?" she asked swiftly.
"See what she's driving at?" O'Keefe spoke to me, swiftly. "Well I do! Buthere's where the O'Keefe lands.
"I said," he turned to her, "O voice of silver fire, that your spirit ishigh even as your beauty— and searches out men's souls as does yourloveliness their hearts. And now listen, Yolara, for what I speak istruth"— into his eyes came the far-away gaze; into his voice the Irishsoftness— "Lo, in my land of Ireland, this many of your life's lengthagone— see"— he raised his ten fingers, clenched and unclenched themtimes twenty— "the mighty men of my race, the Taitha-da-Dainn, couldsend men out into the nothingness even as do you with the Keth. Andthis they did by their harpings, and by words spoken— words of power,O Yolara, that have their power still— and by pipings and by slayingsounds.
"There was Cravetheen who played swift flames from his harp, flying flamesthat ate those they were sent against. And there was Dalua, of Hy Brasil,whose pipes played away from man and beast and all living things theirshadows— and at last played them to shadows too, so that wherever Daluawent his shadows that had been men and beast followed like a storm of littlerustling leaves; yea, and Bel the Harper, who could make women's hearts runlike wax and men's hearts flame to ashes and whose harpings could shatterstrong cliffs and bow great trees to the sod——"
His eyes were bright, dream-filled; she shrank a little from him, faint pallorunder the perfect skin.
"I say to you, Yolara, that these things were and are— in Ireland." Hisvoice rang strong. "And I have seen men as many as those that are in yourgreat chamber this many times over" — he clenched his hands once more,perhaps a dozen times— "blasted into nothingness before your Kethcould even have touched them. Yea— and rocks as mighty as those throughwhich we came lifted up and shattered before the lids could fall over yourblue eyes. And this is truth, Yolara— all truth! Stay have you that littlecone of the Keth with which you destroyed Songar?"
She nodded, gazing at him, fascinated, fear and puzzlement contending.
"Then use it." He took a vase of crystal from the table, placed it on thethreshold that led into the garden. "Use it on this— and I will showyou."
"I will use it upon one of the ladala—— " she began eagerly.
The exaltation dropped from him; there was a touch of horror in the eyeshe turned to her; her own dropped before it.
"It shall be as you say," she said hurriedly. She drew the shining cone fromher breast; levelled it at the vase. The green ray leaped forth, spread overthe crystal, but before its action could even be begun, a flash of lightshot from O'Keefe's hand, his automatic spat and the trembling vase flewinto fragments. As quickly as he had drawn it, he thrust the pistol backinto place and stood there empty handed, looking at her sternly. From theanteroom came shouting, a rush of feet.
Yolara's face was white, her eyes strained— but her voice was unshakenas she called to the clamouring guards:
"It is nothing— go to your places!"
But when the sound of their return had ceased she stared tensely at theIrishman— then looked again at the shattered vase.
"It is true!" she cried, "but see, the Keth is— alive!"
I followed her pointing finger. Each broken bit of the crystal was vibrating,shaking its particles out into space. Broken it the bullet of Larry'shad— but not released it from the grip of the disintegrating force. Thepriestess's face was triumphant.
"But what matters it, O shining urn of beauty— what matters it to thevase that is broken what happens to its fragments?" asked Larry,gravely— and pointedly.
The triumph died from her face and for a space she was silent; brooding.
"Next," whispered O'Keefe to me. "Lots of surprises in the little box; keepyour eye on the opening and see what comes out."
We had not long to wait. There was a sparkle of anger about Yolara, somethingtoo of injured pride. She clapped her hands; whispered to the maid who answeredher summons, and then sat back regarding us, maliciously.
"You have answered me as to your strength— but you have not proved it;but the Keth you have answered. Now answer this!" she said.
She pointed out into the garden. I saw a flowering branch bend and snap asthough a hand had broken it— but no hand was there! Saw then anotherand another bend and break, a little tree sway and fall— and closer andcloser to us came the trail of snapping boughs while down into the gardenpoured the silvery light revealing— nothing! Now a great ewer besidea pillar rose swiftly in air and hurled itself crashing at my feet. Cushionsclose to us swirled about as though in the vortex of a whirlwind.
And unseen hands held my arms in a mighty clutch fast to my sides, anothergripped my throat and I felt a needle-sharp poniard point pierce my shirt,touch the skin just over my heart!
"Larry!" I cried, despairingly. I twisted my head; saw that he too was caughtin this grip of the invisible. But his face was calm, even amused.
"Keep cool, Doc!" he said. "Remember— she wants to learn the language!"
Now from Yolara burst chime upon chime of mocking laughter. She gave acommand— the hands loosened, the poniard withdrew from my heart; suddenlyas I had been caught I was free— and unpleasantly weak and shaky.
"Have you that in Ireland, Larree!" cried the priestess— andonce more trembled with laughter.
"A good play, Yolara." His voice was as calm as his face. "But they did thatin Ireland even before Dalua piped away his first man's shadow. And in Goodwin'sland they make ships— coria that go on water— so you can pass bythem and see only sea and sky; and those water coria are each of them manytimes greater than this whole palace of yours."
But the priestess laughed on.
"It did get me a little," whispered Larry. "That wasn't quite up to my mark.But God! If we could find that trick out and take it back with us!"
"Not so, Larree!" Yolara gasped, through her laughter. "Not so! Goodwin'scry betrayed you!"
Her good humour had entirely returned; she was like a mischievous child pleasedover some successful trick; and like a child she cried— "I'll showyou!"— signalled again; whispered to the maid who, quickly returning,laid before her a long metal case. Yolara took from her girdle somethingthat looked like a small pencil, pressed it and shot a thin stream of lightfor all the world like an electric flash, upon its hasp. The lid flew open.Out of it she drew three flat, oval crystals, faint rose in hue. She handedone to O'Keefe and one to me.
"Look!" she commanded, placing the third before her own eyes. I peered throughthe stone and instantly there leaped into sight, out of thin air— sixgrinning dwarfs! Each was covered from top of head to soles of feet in aweb so tenuous that through it their bodies were plain. The gauzy stuff seemedto vibrate— its strands to run together like quicksilver. I snatchedthe crystal from my eyes and— the chamber was empty! Put it back— andthere were the grinning six!
Yolara gave another sign and they disappeared, even from the crystals.
"It is what they wear, Larree," explained Yolara, graciously. "Itis something that came to us from— the Ancient Ones. But we have sofew"— she sighed.
"Such treasures must be two-edged swords, Yolara," commented O'Keefe. "Forhow know you that one within them creeps not to you with hand eager to strike?"
"There is no danger," she said indifferently. "I am the keeper of them."
She mused for a space, then abruptly:
"And now no more. You two are to appear before the Council at a certaintime— but fear nothing. You, Goodwin, go with Rador about our city andincrease your wisdom. But you, Larree, await me here in mygarden——" she smiled at him, provocatively— maliciously, too."For shall not one who has resisted a world of goddesses be given all chanceto worship when at last he finds his own?"
She laughed— whole heartedly and was gone. And at that moment I likedYolara better than ever I had before and— alas better than ever I wasto in the future.
I noted Rador standing outside the open jade door and started to go, butO'Keefe caught me by the arm.
"Wait a minute," he urged. "About Golden Eyes— you were going to tellme something— it's been on my mind all through that little sparring match."
I told him of the vision that had passed through my closing lids. He listenedgravely and then laughed.
"Hell of a lot of privacy in this place!" he grinned. "Ladies who can walkthrough walls and others with regular invisible cloaks to let 'em flit whereverthey please. Oh, well, don't let it get on your nerves, Doc.Remember— everything's natural! That robe stuff is just camouflage ofcourse. But Lord, if we could only get a piece of it!"
"The material simply admits all light-vibrations, or perhaps curves them,just as the opacities cut them off," I answered. "A man under the X-ray ispartly invisible; this makes him wholly so. He doesn't register, as the peopleof the motion-picture profession say."
"Camouflage," repeated Larry. "And as for the Shining One— Say!" he snorted."I'd like to set the O'Keefe banshee up against it. I'll bet that old resourcefulIrish body would give it the first three bites and a strangle hold and wallopit before it knew it had 'em. Oh! Wow! Boy Howdy!"
I heard him still chuckling gleefully over this vision as I passed alongthe opal wall with the green dwarf.
A shell was awaiting us. I paused before entering it to examine the polishedsurface of runway and great road. It was obsidian— volcanic glass ofpale emerald, unflawed, translucent, with no sign of block or juncture. Iexamined the shell.
"What makes it go?" I asked Rador. At a word from him the driver toucheda concealed spring and an aperture appeared beneath the control-lever, ofwhich I have spoken in a preceding chapter. Within was a small cube of blackcrystal, through whose sides I saw, dimly, a rapidly revolving, glowing ball,not more than two inches in diameter. Beneath the cube was a curiously shaped,slender cylinder winding down into the lower body of the Nautilus whorl.
"Watch!" said Rador. He motioned me into the vehicle and took a place besideme. The driver touched the lever; a stream of coruscations flew from theball down into the cylinder. The shell started smoothly, and as the tinytorrent of shining particles increased it gathered speed.
"The corial does not touch the road," explained Rador. "It is liftedso far"— he held his forefinger and thumb less than a sixteenth of aninch apart— "above it."
And perhaps here is the best place to explain the activation of the shellsor coria. The force utilized was atomic energy. Passing from the whirlingball the ions darted through the cylinder to two bands of a peculiar metalaffixed to the base of the vehicles somewhat like skids of a sled. Impingingupon these they produced a partial negation of gravity, lifting the shellslightly, and at the same time creating a powerful repulsive force or thrustthat could be directed backward, forward, or sidewise at the will of thedriver. The creation of this energy and the mechanism of its utilizationwere, briefly, as follows:
[Dr. Goodwin's lucid and exceedingly comprehensive descriptionof this extraordinary mechanism has been deleted by the Executive Councilof the International Association of Science as too dangerously suggestiveto scientists of the Central European Powers with which we were so recentlyat war. It is allowable, however, to state that his observations are in thepossession of experts in this country, who are, unfortunately, hampered intheir research not only by the scarcity of the radioactive elements thatwe know, but also by the lack of the element or elements unknown to us thatentered into the formation of the fiery ball within the cube of black crystal.Nevertheless, as the principle is so clear, it is believed that thesedifficulties will ultimately be overcome."— J.B.K., President, I.A. ofS.]
The wide, glistening road was gay with the coria. They darted in andout of the gardens; within them the fair-haired, extraordinarily beautifulwomen on their cushions were like princesses of Elfland, caught in gorgeousfairy webs, resting within the hearts of flowers. In some shells wereflaxen-haired dwarfish men of Lugur's type; sometimes black-polled brotherofficers of Rador; often raven-tressed girls, plainly hand-maidens of thewomen; and now and then beauties of the lower folk went by with one of theblond dwarfs.
We swept around the turn that made of the jewel-like roadway an enormoushorseshoe and, speedily, upon our right the cliffs through which we had comein our journey from the Moon Pool began to march forward beneath their mantlesof moss. They formed a gigantic abutment, a titanic salient. It had beenfrom the very front of this salient's invading angle that we had emerged;on each side of it the precipices, faintly glowing, drew back and vanishedinto distance.
The slender, graceful bridges under which we skimmed ended at openings inthe upflung, far walls of verdure. Each had its little garrison of soldiers.Through some of the openings a rivulet of the green obsidian river passed.These were roadways to the farther country, to the land of the ladala,Rador told me; adding that none of the lesser folk could cross into thepavilioned city unless summoned or with pass.
We turned the bend of the road and flew down that farther emerald ribbonwe had seen from the great oval. Before us rose the shining cliffs and thelake. A half-mile, perhaps, from these the last of the bridges flung itself.It was more massive and about it hovered a spirit of ancientness lackingin the other spans; also its garrison was larger and at its base the tangentway was guarded by two massive structures, somewhat like blockhouses, betweenwhich it ran. Something about it aroused in me an intense curiosity.
"Where does that road lead, Rador?" I asked.
"To the one place above all of which I may not tell you, Goodwin," he answered.And again I wondered.
We skimmed slowly out upon the great pier. Far to the left was the prismatic,rainbow curtain between the Cyclopean pillars. On the white waters gracefulshells— lacustrian replicas of the Elf chariots— swam, but none wasnear that distant web of wonder.
"Rador— what is that?" I asked.
"It is the Veil of the Shining One!" he answered slowly.
Was the Shining One that which we named the Dweller?
"What is the Shining One?" I cried, eagerly. Again he was silent. Nor didhe speak until we had turned on our homeward way.
And lively as my interest, my scientific curiosity, were— I was conscioussuddenly of acute depression. Beautiful, wondrously beautiful this placewas— and yet in its wonder dwelt a keen edge of menace, of unease— ofinexplicable, inhuman woe; as though in a secret garden of God a soul shouldsense upon it the gaze of some lurking spirit of evil which some way, somehow,had crept into the sanctuary and only bided its time to spring.
CHAPTER XVII
The Leprechaun
The shell carried us straight back to the house of Yolara. Larry was awaitingme. We stood again before the tenebrous wall where first we had faced thepriestess and the Voice. And as we stood, again the portal appeared withall its disconcerting, magical abruptness.
But now the scene was changed. Around the jet table were grouped a numberof figures— Lugur, Yolara beside him; seven others— all of themfair-haired and all men save one who sat at the left of the priestess— anold, old woman, how old I could not tell, her face bearing traces of beautythat must once have been as great as Yolara's own, but now ravaged, in someway awesome; through its ruins the fearful, malicious gaiety shining outlike a spirit of joy held within a corpse!
Began then our examination, for such it was. And as it progressed I was moreand more struck by the change in the O'Keefe. All flippancy was gone, rarelydid his sense of humour reveal itself in any of his answers. He was likea cautious swordsman, fencing, guarding, studying his opponent; or rather,like a chess-player who keeps sensing some far-reaching purpose in the game:alert, contained, watchful. Always he stressed the power of our surface races,their multitudes, their solidarity.
Their questions were myriad. What were our occupations? Our system of government?How great were the waters? The land? Intensely interested were they in theWorld War, querying minutely into its causes, its effects. In our weaponstheir interest was avid. And they were exceedingly minute in their examinationof us as to the ruins which had excited our curiosity; their position andsurroundings— and if others than ourselves might be expected to findand pass through their entrance!
At this I shot a glance at Lugur. He did not seem unduly interested. I wonderedif the Russian had told him as yet of the girl of the rosy wall of the MoonPool Chamber and the real reasons for our search. Then I answered as brieflyas possible— omitting all reference to these things. The red dwarf watchedme with unmistakable amusement— and I knew Marakinoff had told him. Butclearly Lugur had kept his information even from Yolara; and as clearly shehad spoken to none of that episode when O'Keefe's automatic had shatteredthe Keth-smitten vase. Again I felt that sense of deep bewilderment— ofhelpless search for clue to all the tangle.
For two hours we were questioned and then the priestess called Rador andlet us go.
Larry was sombre as we returned. He walked about the room uneasily.
"Hell's brewing here all right," he said at last, stopping before me. "Ican't make out just the particular brand— that's all that bothers me.We're going to have a stiff fight, that's sure. What I want to do quick isto find the Golden Girl, Doc. Haven't seen her on the wall lately, have you?"he queried, hopefully fantastic.
"Laugh if you want to," he went on. "But she's our best bet. It's going tobe a race between her and the O'Keefe banshee— but I put my money onher. I had a queer experience while I was in that garden, after you'd left."His voice grew solemn. "Did you ever see a leprechaun, Doc?" I shook my headagain, as solemnly. "He's a little man in green," said Larry. "Oh, aboutas high as your knee. I saw one once— in Carntogher Woods. And as I satthere, half asleep, in Yolara's garden, the living spit of him stepped outfrom one of those bushes, twirling a little shillalah.
"'It's a tight box ye're gettin' in, Larry avick,' said he, 'but don't yebe downhearted, lad.'
"'I'm carrying on,' said I, 'but you're a long way from Ireland,' I said,or thought I did.
"'Ye've a lot o' friends there,' he answered. 'An' where the heart reststhe feet are swift to follow. Not that I'm sayin' I'd like to live here,Larry,' said he.
"'I know where my heart is now,' I told him. 'It rests on a girl with goldeneyes and the hair and swan-white breast of Eilidh the Fair— but me feetdon't seem to get me to her,' I said."
The brogue thickened.
"An' the little man in green nodded his head an' whirled his shillalah.
"'It's what I came to tell ye,' says he. 'Don't ye fall for theBhean-Nimher, the serpent woman wit' the blue eyes; she's a daughterof Ivor, lad— an' don't ye do nothin' to make the brown-haired coleenashamed o' ye, Larry O'Keefe. I knew yer great, great grandfather an' hisbefore him, aroon,' says he, 'an' wan o' the O'Keefe failin's is to thinktheir hearts big enough to hold all the wimmen o' the world. A heart's builtto hold only wan permanently, Larry,' he says, 'an' I'm warnin' ye a nicegirl don't like to move into a place all cluttered up wid another's washin'an' mendin' an' cookin' an' other things pertainin' to general wife work.Not that I think the blue-eyed wan is keen for mendin' an' cookin'!' sayshe.
"'You don't have to be comin' all this way to tell me that,' I answer.
"'Well, I'm just a tellin' you,' he says. 'Ye've got some rough knocks comin',Larry. In fact, ye're in for a devil of a time. But, remember that ye'rethe O'Keefe,' says he. 'An' while the bhoys are all wid ye, avick, ye'vegot to be on the job yourself.'
"'I hope,' I tell him, 'that the O'Keefe banshee can find her way here intime— that is, if it's necessary, which I hope it won't be.'
"'Don't ye worry about that,' says he. 'Not that she's keen on leavin' theould sod, Larry. The good ould soul's in quite a state o' mind about ye,aroon. I don't mind tellin' ye, lad, that she's mobilizin' all the clan an'if she has to come for ye, avick, they'll be wid her an' they'll sweepthis joint clean before ye go. What they'll do to it'll make the Big Windlook like a summer breeze on Lough Lene! An' that's about all, Larry. Wethought a voice from the Green Isle would cheer ye. Don't fergit that ye'rethe O'Keefe— an' I say it again all the bhoys are wid ye. But we wantt' kape bein' proud o' ye, lad!'
"An' I looked again and there was only a bush waving."
There wasn't a smile in my heart— or if there was it was a very tenderone.
"I'm going to bed," he said abruptly. "Keep an eye on the wall, Doc!"
Between the seven sleeps that followed, Larry and I saw but little of eachother. Yolara sought him more and more. Thrice we were called before theCouncil; once we were at a great feast, whose splendours and surprises Ican never forget. Largely I was in the company of Rador. Together we twopassed the green barriers into the dwelling-place of the ladala.
They seemed provided with everything needful for life. But everywhere wasan oppressiveness, a gathering together of hate, that was spiritual ratherthan material— as tangible as the latter and far, far more menacing!
"They do not like to dance with the Shining One," was Rador's constant andonly reply to my efforts to find the cause.
Once I had concrete evidence of the mood. Glancing behind me, I saw a white,vengeful face peer from behind a tree-trunk, a hand lift, a shining dartspeed from it straight toward Rador's back. Instinctively I thrust him aside.He turned upon me angrily. I pointed to where the little missile lay, stillquivering, on the ground. He gripped my hand.
"That, some day I will repay!" he said. I looked again at the thing. At itsend was a tiny cone covered with a glistening, gelatinous substance.
Rador pulled from a tree beside us a fruit somewhat like an apple.
"Look!" he said. He dropped it upon the dart— and at once, before myeyes, in less than ten seconds, the fruit had rotted away!
"That's what would have happened to Rador but for you, friend!" he said.
Come now between this and the prelude to the latter half of the drama whosehistory this narrative is— only scattering and necessarily fragmentaryobservations.
First— the nature of the ebon opacities, blocking out the spaces betweenthe pavilion-pillars or covering their tops like roofs. These were magneticfields, light absorbers, negativing the vibrations of radiance; literallyscreens of electric force which formed as impervious a barrier to light aswould have screens of steel.
They instantaneously made night appear in a place where no night was. Butthey interposed no obstacle to air or to sound. They were extremely simplein their inception— no more miraculous than is glass, which, inversely,admits the vibrations of light, but shuts out those coarser ones we callair— and, partly, those others which produce upon our auditory nervesthe effects we call sound.
Briefly, their mechanism was this:
[For the same reason that Dr. Goodwin's exposition of themechanism of the atomic engines was deleted, his description of thelight-destroying screens has been deleted by the Executive Council.— J.B. F., President, I. A. of S.] 
There were two favoured classes of the ladala— the soldiers andthe dream-makers. The dream-makers were the most astonishing social phenomena,I think, of all. Denied by their circumscribed environment the wider experiencesof us of the outer world, the Murians had perfected an amazing system ofescape through the imagination.
They were, too, intensely musical. Their favourite instruments were doubleflutes; immensely complex pipe-organs; harps, great and small. They had anotherremarkable instrument made up of a double octave of small drums which gaveforth percussions remarkably disturbing to the emotional centres.
It was this love of music that gave rise to one of the few truly humorousincidents of our caverned life. Larry came to me— it was just after ourfourth sleep, I remember.
"Come on to a concert," he said.
We skimmed off to one of the bridge garrisons. Rador called the two-scoreguards to attention; and then, to my utter stupefaction, the whole company,O'Keefe leading them, roared out the anthem, "God Save the King." Theysang— in a closer approach to the English than might have been expectedscores of miles below England's level. "Send him victorious! Happy and glorious!"they bellowed.
He quivered with suppressed mirth at my paralysis of surprise.
"Taught 'em that for Marakinoff's benefit!" he gasped. "Wait till that Redhears it. He'll blow up.
"Just wait until you hear Yolara lisp a pretty little thing I taught her,"said Larry as we set back for what we now called home. There was an impishtwinkle in his eyes.
And I did hear. For it was not many minutes later that the priestess condescendedto command me to come to her with O'Keefe.
"Show Goodwin how much you have learned of our speech, O lady of the lipsof honeyed flame!" murmured Larry.
She hesitated; smiled at him, and then from that perfect mouth, out of theexquisite throat, in the voice that was like the chiming of little silverbells, she trilled a melody familiar to me indeed:
"She's only a bird in a gilded cage,
 A bee-yu-tiful sight to see——"
And so on to the bitter end.
"She thinks it's a love-song," said Larry when we had left. "It's only partof a repertoire I'm teaching her. Honestly, Doc, it's the only way I cankeep my mind clear when I'm with her," he went on earnestly. "She's a devil-essfrom hell— but a wonder. Whenever I find myself going I get her to singthat, or Take Back Your Gold! or some other ancient lay, and I'm backagain— pronto— with the right perspective! Pop goesall the mystery! 'Hell!' I say, 'she's only a woman!'"
CHAPTER XVIII
The Amphitheatre of Jet
For hours the black-haired folk had been streaming across the bridges, flowingalong the promenade by scores and by hundreds, drifting down toward the giganticseven-terraced temple whose interior I had never as yet seen, and from whosetowering exterior, indeed, I had always been kept far enoughaway— unobtrusively, but none the less decisively— to prevent anyreal observation. The structure, I had estimated, nevertheless, could notreach less than a thousand feet above its silvery base, and the diameterof its circular foundation was about the same.
I wondered what was bringing the ladala into Lora, and where theywere vanishing. All of them were flower-crowned with the luminous, lovelyblooms— old and young, slender, mocking-eyed girls, dwarfed youths, motherswith their babes, gnomed oldsters— on they poured, silent for the mostpart and sullen— a sullenness that held acid bitterness even as theirsubtle, half-sinister, half-gay malice seemed tempered into little keen-edgedflames, oddly, menacingly defiant.
There were many of the green-clad soldiers along the way, and the garrisonof the only bridge span I could see had certainly been doubled.
Wondering still, I turned from my point of observation and made my way backto our pavilion, hoping that Larry, who had been with Yolara for the pasttwo hours, had returned. Hardly had I reached it before Rador came hurryingup, in his manner a curious exultance mingled with what in anyone else Iwould have called a decided nervousness.
"Come!" he commanded before I could speak. "The Council has madedecision— and Larree is awaiting you."
"What has been decided?" I panted as we sped along the mosaic path that ledto the house of Yolara. "And why is Larry awaiting me?"
And at his answer I felt my heart pause in its beat and through me race awave of mingled panic and eagerness.
"The Shining One dances!" had answered the green dwarf. "And you are to worship!"
What was this dancing of the Shining One, of which so often he had spoken?
Whatever my forebodings, Larry evidently had none.
"Great stuff!" he cried, when we had met in the great antechamber now emptyof the dwarfs. "Hope it will be worth seeing— have to be something damnedgood, though, to catch me, after what I've seen of shows at the front," headded.
And remembering, with a little shock of apprehension, that he had no knowledgeof the Dweller beyond my poor description of it— for there are no wordsactually to describe what that miracle of interwoven glory and horror was— Iwondered what Larry O'Keefe would say and do when he did behold it!
Rador began to show impatience.
"Come!" he urged. "There is much to be done— and the time grows short!"
He led us to a tiny fountain room in whose miniature pool the white waterswere concentrated, pearl-like and opalescent in their circling rim.
"Bathe!" he commanded; and set the example by stripping himself and plungingwithin. Only a minute or two did the green dwarf allow us, and he checkedus as we were about to don our clothing.
Then, to my intense embarrassment, without warning, two of the black-hairedgirls entered, bearing robes of a peculiar dull-blue hue. At our manifestdiscomfort Rador's laughter roared out. He took the garments from the pair,motioned them to leave us, and, still laughing, threw one around me. Itstexture was soft, but decidedly metallic— like some blue metal spun tothe fineness of a spider's thread. The garment buckled tightly at the throat,was girdled at the waist, and, below this cincture, fell to the floor, itsfolds being held together by a half-dozen looped cords; from the shouldersa hood resembling a monk's cowl.
Rador cast this over my head; it completely covered my face, but was of sotransparent a texture that I could see, though somewhat mistily, throughit. Finally he handed us both a pair of long gloves of the same materialand high stockings, the feet of which were gloved— five-toed.
And again his laughter rang out at our manifest surprise.
"The priestess of the Shining One does not altogether trust the Shining One'sVoice," he said at last. "And these are to guard against any sudden— errors.And fear not, Goodwin," he went on kindly. "Not for the Shining One itselfwould Yolara see harm come to Larree here— nor, because of him,to you. But I would not stake much on the great white one. And for him Iam sorry, for him I do like well."
"Is he to be with us?" asked Larry eagerly.
"He is to be where we go," replied the dwarf soberly.
Grimly Larry reached down and drew from his uniform his automatic. He poppeda fresh clip into the pocket fold of his girdle. The pistol he slung highup beneath his arm-pit.
The green dwarf looked at the weapon curiously. O'Keefe tapped it.
"This," said Larry, "slays quicker than the Keth— I take it sono harm shall come to the blue-eyed one whose name is Olaf. If I should raiseit— be you not in its way, Rador!" he added significantly.
The dwarf nodded again, his eyes sparkling. He thrust a hand out to bothof us.
"A change comes," he said. "What it is I know not, nor how it will fall.But this remember— Rador is more friend to you than you yet can know.And now let us go!" he ended abruptly.
He led us, not through the entrance, but into a sloping passage ending ina blind wall; touched a symbol graven there, and it opened, precisely ashad the rosy barrier of the Moon Pool Chamber. And, just as there, but farsmaller, was a passage end, a low curved wall facing a shaft not black ashad been that abode of living darkness, but faintly luminescent. Rador leanedover the wall. The mechanism clicked and started; the door swung shut; thesides of the car slipped into place, and we swept swiftly down the passage;overhead the wind whistled. In a few moments the moving platform began toslow down. It stopped in a closed chamber no larger than itself.
Rador drew his poniard and struck twice upon the wall with its hilt. Immediatelya panel moved away, revealing a space filled with faint, misty blue radiance.And at each side of the open portal stood four of the dwarfish men, grey-headed,old, clad in flowing garments of white, each pointing toward us a short silverrod.
Rador drew from his girdle a ring and held it out to the first dwarf. Heexamined it, handed it to the one beside him, and not until each had inspectedthe ring did they lower their curious weapons; containers of that terrificenergy they called the Keth, I thought; and later was to know thatI had been right.
We stepped out; the doors closed behind us. The place was weird enough. Itspave was a greenish-blue stone resembling lapis lazuli. On each side werehigh pedestals holding carved figures of the same material. There were perhapsa score of these, but in the mistiness I could not make out their outlines.A droning, rushing roar beat upon our ears; filled the whole cavern.
"I smell the sea," said Larry suddenly.
The roaring became deep-toned, clamorous, and close in front of us a riftopened. Twenty feet in width, it cut the cavern floor and vanished into theblue mist on each side. The cleft was spanned by one solid slab of rock notmore than two yards wide. It had neither railing nor other protection.
The four leading priests marched out upon it one by one, and we followed.In the middle of the span they knelt. Ten feet beneath us was a torrent ofblue sea-water racing with prodigious speed between polished walls. It gavethe impression of vast depth. It roared as it sped by, and far to the rightwas a low arch through which it disappeared. It was so swift that its surfaceshone like polished blue steel, and from it came the blessed, ourworldly, familiar ocean breath that strengthened my soul amazingly andmade me realize how earth-sick I was.
Whence came the stream, I marvelled, forgetting for the moment, as we passedon again, all else. Were we closer to the surface of earth than I had thought,or was this some mighty flood falling through an opening in sea floor, Heavenalone knew how many miles above us, losing itself in deeper abysses beyondthese? How near and how far this was from the truth I was to learn— andnever did truth come to man in more dreadful guise!
The roaring fell away, the blue haze lessened. In front of us stretched awide flight of steps, huge as those which had led us into the courtyard ofNan-Tauach through the ruined sea-gate. We scaled it; it narrowed; from abovelight poured through a still narrower opening. Side by side Larry and I passedout of it.
We had emerged upon an enormous platform of what seemed to be glisteningivory. It stretched before us for a hundred yards or more and then shelvedgently into the white waters. Opposite— not a mile away— was thatprodigious web of woven rainbows Rador had called the Veil of the ShiningOne. There it shone in all its unearthly grandeur, on each side of the Cyclopeanpillars, as though a mountain should stretch up arms raising between thema fairy banner of auroral glories. Beneath it was the curved, scimitar sweepof the pier with its clustered, gleaming temples.
Before that brief, fascinated glance was done, there dropped upon my soula sensation as of brooding weight intolerable; a spiritual oppression asthough some vastness was falling, pressing, stifling me, I turned— andLarry caught me as I reeled.
"Steady! Steady, old man!" he whispered.
At first all that my staggering consciousness could realize was an immensity,an immeasurable uprearing that brought with it the same throat-gripping vertigoas comes from gazing downward from some great height— then a blur ofwhite faces— intolerable shinings of hundreds upon thousands of eyes.Huge, incredibly huge, a colossal amphitheatre of jet, a stupendous semi-circle,held within its mighty arc the ivory platform on which I stood.
It reared itself almost perpendicularly hundreds of feet up into the sparklingheavens, and thrust down on each side its ebon bulwarks— like monstrouspaws. Now, the giddiness from its sheer greatness passing, I saw that itwas indeed an amphitheatre sloping slightly backward tier after tier, andthat the white blur of faces against its blackness, the gleaming of countlesseyes were those of myriads of the people who sat silent, flower-garlanded,their gaze focused upon the rainbow curtain and sweeping over me like atorrent— tangible, appalling!
Five hundred feet beyond, the smooth, high retaining wall of the amphitheatreraised itself— above it the first terrace of the seats, and above this,dividing the tiers for another half a thousand feet upward, set within themlike a panel, was a dead-black surface in which shone faintly with a bluishradiance a gigantic disk; above it and around it a cluster of innumerablesmaller ones.
On each side of me, bordering the form, were scores of small pillaredalcoves, a low wall stretching across their fronts; delicate, fretted grillsshielding them, save where in each lattice an opening stared— it cameto me that they were like those stalls in ancient Gothic cathedrals whereinfor centuries had kneeled paladins and people of my own race on earth's fairface. And within these alcoves were gathered, score upon score, the elfinbeauties, the dwarfish men of the fair-haired folk. At my right, a few feetfrom the opening through which we had come, a passageway led back betweenthe fretted stalls. Half-way between us and the massive base of the amphitheatrea dais rose. Up the platform to it a wide ramp ascended; and on ramp anddais and along the centre of the gleaming platform down to where it kissedthe white waters, a broad ribbon of the radiant flowers lay like a fairycarpet.
On one side of this dais, meshed in a silken web that hid no line or curveof her sweet body, white flesh gleaming through its folds, stood Yolara;and opposite her, crowned with a circlet of flashing blue stones, his mightybody stark bare, was Lugur!
O'Keefe drew a long breath; Rador touched my arm and, still dazed, I letmyself be drawn into the aisle and through a corridor that ran behind thealcoves. At the back of one of these the green dwarf paused, opened a door,and motioned us within.
Entering, I found that we were exactly opposite where the ramp ran up tothe dais— and that Yolara was not more than fifty feet away. She glancedat O'Keefe and smiled. Her eyes were ablaze with little dancing points oflight; her body seemed to palpitate, the rounded delicate muscles beneaththe translucent skin to run with joyful little eager waves!
Larry whistled softly.
"There's Marakinoff!" he said.
I looked where he pointed. Opposite us sat the Russian, clothed as we were,leaning forward, his eyes eager behind his glasses; but if he saw us he gaveno sign.
"And there's Olaf!" said O'Keefe.
Beneath the carved stall in which sat the Russian was an aperture and withinit was Huldricksson. Unprotected by pillars or by grills, opening clear uponthe platform, near him stretched the trail of flowers up to the great daiswhich Lugur and Yolara the priestess guarded. He sat alone, and my heartwent out to him.
O'Keefe's face softened.
"Bring him here," he said to Rador.
The green dwarf was looking at the Norseman, too, a shade of pity upon hismocking face. He shook his head.
"Wait!" he said. "You can do nothing now— and it may be there will beno need to do anything," he added; but I could feel that there was littleof conviction in his words.
CHAPTER XIX
The Madness of Olaf
Yolara threw her white arms high. From the mountainous tiers came a mightysigh; a rippling ran through them. And upon the moment, before Yolara's armsfell, there issued, apparently from the air around us, a peal of sound thatmight have been the shouting of some playful god hurling great suns throughthe net of stars. It was like the deepest notes of all the organs in theworld combined in one; summoning, majestic, cosmic!
It held within it the thunder of the spheres rolling through the infinite,the birth-song of suns made manifest in the womb of space; echoes of creation'ssupernal chord! It shook the body like a pulse from the heart of theuniverse— pulsed— and died away.
On its death came a blaring as of all the trumpets of conquering hosts sincethe first Pharaoh led his swarms— triumphal, compelling! Alexander'sclamouring hosts, brazen-throated wolf-horns of Caesar's legions, blare oftrumpets of Genghis Khan and his golden horde, clangor of the locust leviesof Tamerlane, bugles of Napoleon's armies— war-shout of all earth'sconquerors! And it died!
Fast upon it, a throbbing, muffled tumult of harp sounds, mellownesses ofmyriads of wood horns, the subdued sweet shrilling of multitudes of flutes,Pandean pipings— inviting, carrying with them the calling of waterfallsin the hidden places, rushing brooks and murmuring forest winds— calling,calling, languorous, lulling, dripping into the brain like the very honeyedessence of sound. And after them a silence in which the memory of the musicseemed to beat, to beat ever more faintly, through every quivering nerve.
From me all fear, all apprehension, had fled. In their place was nothingbut joyous anticipation, a supernal freedom from even the shadow of the shadowof care or sorrow; not now did anything matter— Olaf or his haunted,hate-filled eyes; Throckmartin or his fate— nothing of pain, nothingof agony, nothing of striving nor endeavour nor despair in that wide outerworld that had turned suddenly to a troubled dream.
Once more the first great note pealed out! Once more it died and from theclustered spheres a kaleidoscopic blaze shot as though drawn from the majesticsound itself. The many-coloured rays darted across the white waters and soughtthe face of the irised Veil. As they touched, it sparkled, flamed, wavered,and shook with fountains of prismatic colour.
The light increased— and in its intensity the silver air darkened. Fadedinto shadow that white mosaic of flower-crowned faces set in the amphitheatreof jet, and vast shadows dropped upon the high-flung tiers and shrouded them.But on the skirts of the rays the fretted stalls in which we sat with thefair-haired ones blazed out, iridescent, like jewels.
I was sensible of an acceleration of every pulse; a wild stimulation of everynerve. I felt myself being lifted above the world— close to the thresholdof the high gods— soon their essence and their power would stream outinto me! I glanced at Larry. His eyes were— wild— with life!
I looked at Olaf— and in his face was none of this— only hate, andhate, and hate.
The peacock waves streamed out over the waters, cleaving the seeming darkness,a rainbow path of glory. And the Veil flashed as though all the rainbowsthat had ever shone were burning within it. Again the mighty sound pealed.
Into the centre of the Veil the light drew itself, grew into an intolerablebrightness— and with a storm of tinklings, a tempest of crystalline notes,a tumult of tiny chimings, through it sped— the Shining One!
Straight down that radiant path, its high-flung plumes of feathery flameshimmering, its coruscating spirals whirling, its seven globes of seven coloursshining above its glowing core, it raced toward us. The hurricane of bellsof diamond glass were jubilant, joyous. I felt O'Keefe grip my arm; Yolarathrew her white arms out in a welcoming gesture; I heard from the tier asigh of rapture— and in it a poignant, wailing undertone of agony!
Over the waters, down the light stream, to the end of the ivory pier, flewthe Shining One. Through its crystal pizzicati drifted inarticulatemurmurings— deadly sweet, stilling the heart and setting it leaping madly.
For a moment it paused, poised itself, and then came whirling down the flowerpath to its priestess, slowly, ever more slowly. It hovered for a momentbetween the woman and the dwarf, as though contemplating them; turned toher with its storm of tinklings softened, its murmurings infinitely caressing.Bent toward it, Yolara seemed to gather within herself pulsing waves of power;she was terrifying; gloriously, maddeningly evil; and as gloriously, maddeninglyheavenly! Aphrodite and the Virgin! Tanith of the Carthaginians and St. Brideof the Isles! A queen of hell and a princess of heaven— in one!
Only for a moment did that which we had called the Dweller and which thesenamed the Shining One, pause. It swept up the ramp to the dais, rested there,slowly turning, plumes and spirals lacing and unlacing, throbbing, pulsing.Now its nucleus grew plainer, stronger— human in a fashion, and all inhuman;neither man nor woman; neither god nor devil; subtly partaking of all. Norcould I doubt that whatever it was, within that shining nucleus was somethingsentient; something that had will and energy, and in some awful, supernormalfashion— intelligence!
Another trumpeting— a sound of stones opening— a long, low wail ofutter anguish— something moved shadowy in the river of light, and slowlyat first, then ever more rapidly, shapes swam through it. There were halfa score of them— girls and youths, women and men. The Shining One poiseditself, regarded them. They drew closer, and in the eyes of each and in theirfaces was the bud of that awful intermingling of emotions, of joy and sorrow,ecstasy and terror, that I had seen in full blossom on Throckmartin's.
The Thing began again its murmurings— now infinitely caressing,coaxing— like the song of a siren from some witched star! And the bell-soundsrang out— compellingly, calling— calling— calling——
I saw Olaf lean far out of his place; saw, half-consciously, at Lugur's signal,three of the dwarfs creep in and take places, unnoticed, behind him.
Now the first of the figures rushed upon the dais— and paused. It wasthe girl who had been brought before Yolara when the gnome named Songar wasdriven into the nothingness! With all the quickness of light a spiral ofthe Shining One stretched out and encircled her.
At its touch there was an infinitely dreadful shrinking and, it seemed, asimultaneous hurling of herself into its radiance. As it wrapped its swirlsaround her, permeated her— the crystal chorus burst forth— tumultuously;through and through her the radiance pulsed. Began then that infinitely dreadful,but infinitely glorious, rhythm they called the dance of the Shining One.And as the girl swirled within its sparkling mists another and another flewinto its embrace, until, at last, the dais was an incredible vision; a madstar's Witches' Sabbath; an altar of white faces and bodies gleaming throughliving flame; transfused with rapture insupportable and horror that washellish— and ever, radiant plumes and spirals expanding, the core ofthe Shining One waxed— growing greater— as it consumed, as it drewinto and through itself the life-force of these lost ones!
So they spun, interlaced— and there began to pulse from them life, vitality,as though the very essence of nature was filling us. Dimly I recognized thatwhat I was beholding was vampirism inconceivable! The banked tiers chanted.The mighty sounds pealed forth!
It was a Saturnalia of demigods!
Then, whirling, bell-notes storming, the Shining One withdrew slowly fromthe dais down the ramp, still embracing, still interwoven with those whohad thrown themselves into its spirals. They drifted with it as thoughhalf-carried in dreadful dance; white faces sealed— forever— intothat semblance of those who held within linked God and devil— I coveredmy eyes!
I heard a gasp from O'Keefe; opened my eyes and sought his; saw the wildnessvanish from them as he strained forward. Olaf had leaned far out, and ashe did so the dwarfs beside him caught him, and whether by design or throughhis own swift, involuntary movement, thrust him half into the Dweller's path.The Dweller paused in its gyrations— seemed to watch him. The Norseman'sface was crimson, his eyes blazing. He threw himself back and, with one defiantshout, gripped one of the dwarfs about the middle and sent him hurtling throughthe air, straight at the radiant Thing! A whirling mass of legs and arms,the dwarf flew— then in mid-flight stopped as though some gigantic invisiblehand had caught him, and— was dashed down upon the platform not a yardfrom the Shining One!
Like a broken spider he moved— feebly— once, twice. From the Dwellershot a shimmering tentacle— touched him— recoiled. Its crystal tinklingschanged into an angry chiming. From all about— jewelled stalls and jetpeak— came a sigh of incredulous horror.
Lugur leaped forward. On the instant Larry was over the low barrier betweenthe pillars, rushing to the Norseman's side. And even as they ran there wasanother wild shout from Olaf, and he hurled himself out, straight at thethroat of the Dweller!
But before he could touch the Shining One, now motionless— and neverwas the thing more horrible than then, with the purely human suggestion ofsurprise plain in its poise— Larry had struck him aside.
I tried to follow— and was held by Rador. He was trembling— but notwith fear. In his face was incredulous hope, inexplicable eagerness.
"Wait!" he said. "Wait!"
The Shining One stretched out a slow spiral, and as it did so I saw the bravestthing man has ever witnessed. Instantly O'Keefe thrust himself between itand Olaf, pistol out. The tentacle touched him, and the dull blue of hisrobe flashed out into blinding, intense azure light. From the automatic inhis gloved hand came three quick bursts of flame straight into the Thing.The Dweller drew back; the bell-sounds swelled.
Lugur paused, his hand darted up, and in it was one of the silver Kethcones. But before he could flash it upon the Norseman, Larry had unloopedhis robe, thrown its fold over Olaf, and, holding him with one hand awayfrom the Shining One, thrust with the other his pistol into the dwarf's stomach.His lips moved, but I could not hear what he said. But Lugur understood,for his hand dropped.
Now Yolara was there— all this had taken barely more than five seconds.She thrust herself between the three men and the Dweller. She spoke toit— and the wild buzzing died down; the gay crystal tinklings burst forthagain. The Thing murmured to her— began to whirl— faster,faster— passed down the ivory pier, out upon the waters, bearing withit, meshed in its light, the sacrifices— swept on ever more swiftly,triumphantly and turning, turning, with its ghastly crew, vanished throughthe Veil!
Abruptly the polychromatic path snapped out. The silver light poured in uponus. From all the amphitheatre arose a clamour, a shouting. Marakinoff, hiseyes staring, was leaning out, listening. Unrestrained now by Rador, I vaultedthe wall and rushed forward. But not before I had heard the green dwarf murmur:
"There is something stronger than the Shining One! Two things— yea— astrong heart— and hate!"
Olaf, panting, eyes glazed, trembling, shrank beneath my hand.
"The devil that took my Helma!" I heard him whisper. "The Shining Devil!"
"Both these men," Lugur was raging, "they shall dance with the Shining One.And this one, too." He pointed at me malignantly.
"This man is mine," said the priestess, and her voice was menacing. She restedher hand on Larry's shoulder. "He shall not dance. No— nor his friend.I have told you I care not for this one!" She pointed to Olaf.
"Neither this man, nor this," said Larry, "shall be harmed. This is my word,Yolara!"
"Even so," she answered quietly, "my lord!"
I saw Marakinoff stare at O'Keefe with a new and curiously speculative interest.Lugur's eyes grew hellish; he raised his arms as though to strike her. Larry'spistol prodded him rudely enough.
"No rough stuff now, kid!" said O'Keefe in English. The red dwarf quivered,turned— caught a robe from a priest standing by, and threw it over himself.The ladala, shouting, gesticulating, fighting with the soldiers, werejostling down from the tiers of jet.
"Come!" commanded Yolara— her eyes rested upon Larry. "Your heart isgreat, indeed— my lord!" she murmured; and her voice was very sweet."Come!"
"This man comes with us, Yolara," said O'Keefe pointing to Olaf.
"Bring him," she said. "Bring him— only tell him to look no more uponme as before!" she added fiercely.
Beside her the three of us passed along the stalls, where sat the fair-haired,now silent, at gaze, as though in the grip of some great doubt. SilentlyOlaf strode beside me. Rador had disappeared. Down the stairway, throughthe hall of turquoise mist, over the rushing sea-stream we went and stoodbeside the wall through which we had entered. The white-robed ones had gone.
Yolara pressed; the portal opened. We stepped upon the car; she took thelever; we raced through the faintly luminous corridor to the house of thepriestess.
And one thing now I knew sick at heart and soul the truth had come to me— nomore need to search for Throckmartin. Behind that Veil, in the lair of theDweller, dead-alive like those we had just seen swim in its shining trainwas he, and Edith, Stanton and Thora and Olaf Huldricksson's wife!
The car came to rest; the portal opened; Yolara leaped out lightly, beckonedand flitted up the corridor. She paused before an ebon screen. At a touchit vanished, revealing an entrance to a small blue chamber, glowing as thoughcut from the heart of some gigantic sapphire; bare, save that in its centre,upon a low pedestal, stood a great globe fashioned from milky rock-crystal;upon its surface were faint tracings as of seas and continents, but, if so,either of some other world or of this world in immemorial past, for in noway did they resemble the mapped coastlines of our earth.
Poised upon the globe, rising from it out into space, locked in each other'sarms, lips to lips, were two figures, a woman and a man, so exquisite, solifelike, that for the moment I failed to realize that they, too, were carvedof the crystal. And before this shrine— for nothing else could it be,I knew— three slender cones raised themselves: one of purest white flame,one of opalescent water, and the third of— moonlight! There was no mistakingthem, the height of a tall man each stood— but how water, flame and lightwere held so evenly, so steadily in their spire-shapes, I could not tell.
Yolara bowed lowly— once, twice, thrice. She turned to O'Keefe, nor byslightest look or gesture betrayed she knew others were there than he. Theblue eyes wide, searching, unfathomable, she drew close; put white handson his shoulders, looked down into his very soul.
"My lord," she murmured. "Now listen well for I, Yolara, give you threethings— myself, and the Shining One, and the power that is the ShiningOne's— yea, and still a fourth thing that is all three— power overall upon that world from whence you came! These, my lord, ye shall have.I swear it"— she turned toward the altar— uplifted her arms— "bySiya and by Siyana, and by the flame, by the water, and by the light!"[4]
[4 I have no space here even to outline the eschatology ofthis people, nor to catalogue their pantheon. Siya and Siyana typified worldlylove. Their ritual was, however, singularly free from those degrading elementsusually found in love-cults. Priests and priestesses of all cults dwelt inthe immense seven-terraced structure, of which the jet amphitheatre was thewater side. The symbol, icon, representation, of Siya and Siyana— theglobe and the up-striving figures— typified earthly love, feet boundto earth, but eyes among the stars. Hell or heaven I never heard formulated,nor their equivalents; unless that existence in the Shining One's domaincould serve for either. Over all this was Thanaroa, remote; unheeding, butstill maker and ruler of all— an absentee First Cause personified! Thanaroaseemed to be the one article of belief in the creed of the soldiers— Rador,with his reverence for the Ancient Ones, was an exception. Whatever therewas, indeed, of high, truly religious impulse among the Murians, this far,High God had. I found this exceedingly interesting, because it had long beenmy theory— to put the matter in the shape of a geometrical formula— thatthe real attractiveness of gods to man increases uniformly according to thesquare of their distance— W. T. G.] 
Her eyes grew purple dark.
"Let none dare to take you from me! Nor ye go from me unbidden!" she whisperedfiercely.
Then swiftly, still ignoring us, she threw her arms about O'Keefe, pressedher white body to his breast, lips raised, eyes closed, seeking his. O'Keefe'sarms tightened around her, his head dropped lips seeking, findinghers— passionately! From Olaf came a deep indrawn breath that was almosta groan. But not in my heart could I find blame for the Irishman!
The priestess opened eyes now all misty blue, thrust him back, stood regardinghim. O'Keefe, dead-white, raised a trembling hand to his face.
"And thus have I sealed my oath, O my lord!" she whispered. For the firsttime she seemed to recognize our presence, stared at us a moment, then throughus, and turned to O'Keefe.
"Go, now!" she said. "Soon Rador shall come for you. Then— well, afterthat let happen what will!"
She smiled once more at him— so sweetly; turned toward the figures uponthe great globe; sank upon her knees before them. Quietly we crept away;still silent, made our way to the little pavilion. But as we passed we hearda tumult from the green roadway; shouts of men, now and then a woman's scream.Through a rift in the garden I glimpsed a jostling crowd on one of the bridges:green dwarfs struggling with the ladala— and all about droneda humming as of a giant hive disturbed!
Larry threw himself down upon one of the divans, covered his face with hishands, dropped them to catch in Olaf's eyes troubled reproach, looked atme.
"I couldn't help it," he said, half defiantly— half-miserably. "God,what a woman! I couldn't help it!"
"Larry," I asked. "Why didn't you tell her you didn't love her— then?"
He gazed at me— the old twinkle back in his eye.
"Spoken like a scientist, Doc!" he exclaimed. "I suppose if a burning angelstruck you out of nowhere and threw itself about you, you would most dignifiedlytell it you didn't want to be burned. For God's sake, don't talk nonsense,Goodwin!" he ended, almost peevishly.
"Evil! Evil!" The Norseman's voice was deep, nearly a chant. "All here isof evil: Trolldom and Helvede it is, Ja! And that she djaevelskof beauty— what is she but harlot of that shining devil they worship.I, Olaf Huldricksson, know what she meant when she held out to you powerover all the world, Ja!— as if the world had not devils enoughin it now!"
"What?" The cry came from both O'Keefe and myself at once.
Olaf made a gesture of caution, relapsed into sullen silence. There werefootsteps on the path, and into sight came Rador— but a Rador changed.Gone was every vestige of his mockery; curiously solemn, he saluted O'Keefeand Olaf with that salute which, before this, I had seen given only to Yolaraand to Lugur. There came a swift quickening of the tumult— died away.He shrugged mighty shoulders.
"The ladala are awake!" he said. "So much for what two brave men cando!" He paused thoughtfully. "Bones and dust jostle not each other for placeagainst the grave wall!" he added oddly. "But if bones and dust have revealedto them that they still— live ——"
He stopped abruptly, eyes seeking the globe that bore and sent forth speech.[5]
[5 I find that I have neglected to explain the working ofthese interesting mechanisms that were telephonic, dictaphonic, telegraphicin one. I must assume that my readers are familiar with the receiving apparatusof wireless telegraphy, which must be "tuned" by the operator until its ownvibratory quality is in exact harmony with the vibrations— the extremelyrapid impacts— of those short electric wavelengths we call Hertzian,and which carry the wireless messages. I must assume also that they are familiarwith the elementary fact of physics that the vibrations of light and soundare interchangeable. The hearing-talking globes utilize both these principles,and with consummate simplicity. The light with which they shone was producedby an atomic "motor" within their base, similar to that which activated themerely illuminating globes. The composition of the phonic spheres gave theirsurfaces an acute sensitivity and resonance. In conjunction with its energizingpower, the metal set up what is called a "field of force," which linked itwith every particle of its kind no matter how distant. When vibrations ofspeech impinged upon the resonant surface its rhythmic light-vibrations werebroken, just as a telephone transmitter breaks an electric current.Simultaneously these light-vibrations were changed into sound— on thesurfaces of all spheres tuned to that particular instrument. The "crawling"colours which showed themselves at these times were literally the voice ofthe speaker in its spectrum equivalent. While usually the sounds producedrequired considerable familiarity with the apparatus to be understood quickly,they could, on occasion, be made startlingly loud and clear— as I wassoon to realize— W. T. G.] 
"The Afyo Maie has sent me to watch over you till she summons you,"he announced clearly. "There is to be a— feast. You, Larree, youGoodwin, are to come. I remain here with— Olaf."
"No harm to him!" broke in O'Keefe sharply. Rador touched his heart, hiseyes.
"By the Ancient Ones, and by my love for you, and by what you twain did beforethe Shining One— I swear it!" he whispered.
Rador clapped palms; a soldier came round the path, in his grip a long flatbox of polished wood. The green dwarf took it, dismissed him, threw openthe lid.
"Here is your apparel for the feast, Larree," he said, pointing tothe contents.
O'Keefe stared, reached down and drew out a white, shimmering, softly metallic,long-sleeved tunic, a broad, silvery girdle, leg swathings of the same argentmaterial, and sandals that seemed to be cut out from silver. He made a quickgesture of angry dissent.
"Nay, Larree!" muttered the dwarf. "Wear them— I counsel it— Ipray it— ask me not why," he went on swiftly, looking again at the globe.
O'Keefe, as I, was impressed by his earnestness. The dwarf made a curiouslyexpressive pleading gesture. O'Keefe abruptly took the garments; passed intothe room of the fountain.
"The Shining One dances not again?" I asked.
"No," he said. "No" — he hesitated— "it is the usual feast that followsthe sacrament! Lugur— and Double Tongue, who came with you, will be there,"he added slowly.
"Lugur——" I gasped in astonishment. "After what happened— hewill be there?"
"Perhaps because of what happened, Goodwin, my friend," he answered— hiseyes again full of malice; "and there will be others— friends ofYolara— friends of Lugur— and perhaps another"— his voice wasalmost inaudible— "one whom they have not called—" He halted, half-fearfully,glancing at the globe; put finger to lips and spread himself out upon oneof the couches.
"Strike up the band"— came O'Keefe's voice— "here comes the hero!"
He strode into the room. I am bound to say that the admiration in Rador'seyes was reflected in my own, and even, if involuntarily, in Olaf's.
"A son of Siyana!" whispered Rador.
He knelt, took from his girdle-pouch a silk-wrapped something, unwoundit— and, still kneeling, drew out a slender poniard of gleaming whitemetal, hilted with the blue stones; he thrust it into O'Keefe's girdle; thengave him again the rare salute.
"Come," he ordered and took us to the head of the pathway.
"Now," he said grimly, "let the Silent Ones show their power— if theystill have it!"
And with this strange benediction, he turned back.
"For God's sake, Larry," I urged as we approached the house of the priestess,"you'll be careful!"
He nodded— but I saw with a little deadly pang of apprehension in myheart a puzzled, lurking doubt within his eyes.
As we ascended the serpent steps Marakinoff appeared. He gave a signal toour guards— and I wondered what influence the Russian had attained, forpromptly, without question, they drew aside. At me he smiled amiably.
"Have you found your friends yet?" he went on— and now I sensed somethingdeeply sinister in him. "No! It is too bad! Well, don't give up hope." Heturned to O'Keefe.
"Lieutenant, I would like to speak to you— alone!"
"I've no secrets from Goodwin," answered O'Keefe.
"So?" queried Marakinoff, suavely. He bent, whispered to Larry.
The Irishman started, eyed him with a certain shocked incredulity, then turnedto me.
"Just a minute, Doc!" he said, and I caught the suspicion of a wink. Theydrew aside, out of ear-shot. The Russian talked rapidly. Larry was all attention.Marakinoff's earnestness became intense; O'Keefe interrupted— appearedto question. Marakinoff glanced at me and as his gaze shifted from O'Keefe,I saw a flame of rage and horror blaze up in the latter's eyes. At last theIrishman appeared to consider gravely; nodded as though he had arrived atsome decision, and Marakinoff thrust his hand to him.
And only I could have noticed Larry's shrinking, his microscopic hesitationbefore he took it, and his involuntary movement, as though to shake off somethingunclean, when the clasp had ended.
Marakinoff, without another look at me, turned and went quickly within. Theguards took their places. I looked at Larry inquiringly.
"Don't ask a thing now, Doc!" he said tensely. "Wait till we get home. Butwe've got to get damned busy and quick— I'll tell you that now——"
CHAPTER XX
The Tempting of Larry
We paused before thick curtains, through which came the faint murmur of manyvoices. They parted; out came two— ushers, I suppose, they were— incuirasses and kilts that reminded me somewhat of chain-mail— the firstarmour of any kind here that I had seen. They held open the folds.
The chamber, on whose threshold we stood, was far larger than either anteroomor hall of audience. Not less than three hundred feet long and half thatin depth, from end to end of it ran two huge semi-circular tables, parallelingeach other, divided by a wide aisle, and heaped with flowers, with fruits,with viands unknown to me, and glittering with crystal flagons, beakers,goblets of as many hues as the blooms. On the gay-cushioned couches thatflanked the tables, lounging luxuriously, were scores of the fair-hairedruling class and there rose a little buzz of admiration, oddly mixed witha half-startled amaze, as their gaze fell upon O'Keefe in all his silverymagnificence. Everywhere the light-giving globes sent their roseate radiance.
The cuirassed dwarfs led us through the aisle. Within the arc of the innerhalf-circle was another glittering board, an oval. But of those seated there,facing us— I had eyes for only one— Yolara! She swayed up to greetO'Keefe— and she was like one of those white lily maids, whose beautyHoang-Ku, the sage, says made the Gobi first a paradise, and whose lustslater the burned-out desert that it is. She held out hands to Larry, andon her face was passion— unashamed, unhiding.
She was Circe— but Circe conquered. Webs of filmiest white clung to therose-leaf body. Twisted through the corn-silk hair a threaded circlet ofpale sapphires shone; but they were pale beside Yolara's eyes. O'Keefe bent,kissed her hands, something more than mere admiration flaming from him. Shesaw— and, smiling, drew him down beside her.
It came to me that of all, only these two, Yolara and O'Keefe, were inwhite— and I wondered; then with a tightening of nerves ceased to wonderas there entered— Lugur! He was all in scarlet, and as he strode forwarda silence fell— a tense, strained silence.
His gaze turned upon Yolara, rested upon O'Keefe, and instantly his facegrew— dreadful— there is no other word than that for it. Marakinoffleaned forward from the centre of the table, near whose end I sat, touchedand whispered to him swiftly. With appalling effort the red dwarf controlledhimself; he saluted the priestess ironically, I thought; took his place atthe further end of the oval. And now I noted that the figures between werethe seven of that Council of which the Shining One's priestess and Voicewere the heads. The tension relaxed, but did not pass— as though astorm-cloud should turn away, but still lurk, threatening.
My gaze ran back. This end of the room was draped with the exquisitely coloured,graceful curtains looped with gorgeous garlands. Between curtains and table,where sat Larry and the nine, a circular platform, perhaps ten yards in diameter,raised itself a few feet above the floor, its gleaming surface half-coveredwith the luminous petals, fragrant, delicate.
On each side below it, were low carven stools. The curtains parted and softlyentered girls bearing their flutes, their harps, the curiously emotion-exciting,octaved drums. They sank into their places. They touched their instruments;a faint, languorous measure throbbed through the rosy air.
The stage was set! What was to be the play?
Now about the tables passed other dusky-haired maids, fair bosoms bare, theirscanty kirtles looped high, pouring out the wines for the feasters.
My eyes sought O'Keefe. Whatever it had been that Marakinoff had said, clearlyit now filled his mind— even to the exclusion of the wondrous woman besidehim. His eyes were stern, cold— and now and then, as he turned them towardthe Russian, filled with a curious speculation. Yolara watched him, frowned,gave a low order to the Hebe behind her.
The girl disappeared, entered again with a ewer that seemed cut of amber.The priestess poured from it into Larry's glass a clear liquid that shookwith tiny sparkles of light. She raised the glass to her lips, handed itto him. Half-smiling, half-abstractedly, he took it, touched his own lipswhere hers had kissed; drained it. A nod from Yolara and the maid refilledhis goblet.
At once there was a swift transformation in the Irishman. His abstractionvanished; the sternness fled; his eyes sparkled. He leaned caressingly towardYolara; whispered. Her blue eyes flashed triumphantly; her chiming laughterrang. She raised her own glass— but within it was not that clear drinkthat filled Larry's! And again he drained his own; and, lifting it, fullonce more, caught the baleful eyes of Lugur, and held it toward him mockingly.Yolara swayed close alluring, tempting. He arose, face all reckless gaiety;rollicking deviltry.
"A toast!" he cried in English, "to the Shining One— and may the hellwhere it belongs soon claim it!"
He had used their own word for their god— all else had been in his owntongue, and so, fortunately, they did not understand. But the contempt inhis action they did recognize— and a dead, a fearful silence fell uponthem all. Lugur's eyes blazed, little sparks of crimson in their green. Thepriestess reached up, caught at O'Keefe. He seized the soft hand; caressedit; his gaze grew far away, sombre.
"The Shining One." He spoke low. "An' now again I see the faces of thosewho dance with it. It is the Fires of Mora— come, God alone knowshow— from Erin— to this place. The Fires of Mora!" He contemplatedthe hushed folk before him; and then from his lips came that weirdest, mosthaunting of the lyric legends of Erin the Curse of Mora:
"The fretted fires of Mora blew o'er him in the night;
He thrills no more to loving, nor weeps for past delight.
For when those flames have bitten, both grief and joy take flight——"
Again Yolara tried to draw him down beside her; and once more he grippedher hand. His eyes grew fixed— he crooned:
"And through the sleeping silence his feet must track the tune,
When the world is barred and speckled with silver of the moon——"
He stood, swaying, for a moment, and then, laughing, let the priestess haveher way; drained again the glass.
And now my heart was cold, indeed— for what hope was there left withLarry mad, wild drunk!
The silence was unbroken— elfin women and dwarfs glancing furtively ateach other. But now Yolara arose, face set, eyes flashing grey.
"Hear you, the Council, and you, Lugur— and all who are here!" she cried."Now I, the priestess of the Shining One, take, as is my right, my mate.And this is he!" She pointed down upon Larry. He glanced up at her.
"Can't quite make out what you say, Yolara," he muttered thickly. "But sayanything— you like— I love your voice!"
I turned sick with dread. Yolara's hand stole softly upon the Irishman'scurls caressingly.
"You know the law, Yolara." Lugur's voice was flat, deadly. "You may notmate with other than your own kind. And this man is a stranger— abarbarian— food for the Shining One!" Literally, he spat the phrase.
"No, not of our kind— Lugur— higher!" Yolara answered serenely. "Lo,a son of Siya and of Siyana!"
"A lie!" roared the red dwarf. "A lie!"
"The Shining One revealed it to me!" said Yolara sweetly. "And if ye believenot, Lugur— go ask of the Shining One if it be not truth!"
There was bitter, nameless menace in those last words and whatever theirhidden message to Lugur, it was potent. He stood, choking, facehell-shadowed— Marakinoff leaned out again, whispered. The red dwarfbowed, now wholly ironically; resumed his place and his silence. And againI wondered, icy-hearted, what was the power the Russian had so to sway Lugur.
"What says the Council?" Yolara demanded, turning to them.
Only for a moment they consulted among themselves. Then the woman, whoseface was a ravaged shrine of beauty, spoke.
"The will of the priestess is the will of the Council!" she answered.
Defiance died from Yolara's face; she looked down at Larry tenderly. He satswaying, crooning.
"Bid the priests come," she commanded, then turned to the silent room. "Bythe rites of Siya and Siyana, Yolara takes their son for her mate!" And againher hand stole down possessingly, serpent soft, to the drunken head of theO'Keefe.
The curtains parted widely. Through them filed, two by two, twelve hoodedfigures clad in flowing robes of the green one sees in forest vistas of openingbuds of dawning spring. Of each pair one bore clasped to breast a globe ofthat milky crystal in the sapphire shrine-room; the other a harp, small,shaped somewhat like the ancient clarsach of the Druids.
Two by two they stepped upon the raised platform, placed gently upon it eachtheir globe; and two by two crouched behind them. They formed now a starof six points about the petalled dais, and, simultaneously, they drew fromtheir faces the covering cowls.
I half-rose— youths and maidens these of the fair-haired; and youthsand maids more beautiful than any of those I had yet seen— for upon theirfaces was little of that disturbing mockery to which I have been forced sooften, because of the deep impression it made upon me, to refer. The ashen-goldof the maiden priestesses' hair was wound about their brows in shining coronals.The pale locks of the youths were clustered within circlets of translucent,glimmering gems like moonstones. And then, crystal globe alternately beforeand harp alternately held by youth and maid, they began to sing.
What was that song, I do not know— nor ever shall. Archaic, ancient beyondthought, it seemed— not with the ancientness of things that for uncountedages have been but wind-driven dust. Rather was it the ancientness of thegolden youth of the world, love lilts of earth younglings, with light ofnew-born suns drenching them, chorals of young stars mating in space; murmuringsof April gods and goddesses. A languor stole through me. The rosy lightsupon the tripods began to die away, and as they faded the milky globes gleamedforth brighter, ever brighter. Yolara rose, stretched a hand to Larry, ledhim through the sextuple groups, and stood face to face with him in the centreof their circle.
The rose-light died; all that immense chamber was black, save for the circleof the glowing spheres. Within this their milky radiance grewbrighter— brighter. The song whispered away. A throbbing arpeggio drippedfrom the harps, and as the notes pulsed out, up from the globes, as thoughstriving to follow, pulsed with them tips of moon-fire cones, such as I hadseen before Yolara's altar. Weirdly, caressingly, compellingly the harp notesthrobbed in repeated, re-repeated theme, holding within itself the same archaicgolden quality I had noted in the singing. And over the moon flame pinnaclesrose higher!
Yolara lifted her arms; within her hands were clasped O'Keefe's. She raisedthem above their two heads and slowly, slowly drew him with her into a circling,graceful step, tendrillings delicate as the slow spirallings of twilightmist upon some still stream.
As they swayed the rippling arpeggios grew louder, and suddenly the slenderpinnacles of moon fire bent, dipped, flowed to the floor, crept in a shiningring around those two— and began to rise, a gleaming, glimmering, enchantedbarrier— rising, ever rising— hiding them!
With one swift movement Yolara unbound her circlet of pale sapphires, shookloose the waves of her silken hair. It fell, a rippling, wondrous cascade,veiling both her and O'Keefe to their girdles— and now the shining coilsof moon fire had crept to their knees— was circling higher— higher.
And ever despair grew deeper in my soul!
What was that! I started to my feet, and all around me in the darkness Iheard startled motion. From without came a blaring of trumpets, the soundof running men, loud murmurings. The tumult drew closer. I heard cries of"Lakla! Lakla!" Now it was at the very threshold and within it, oddly, asthough— punctuating— the clamour, a deep-toned, almost abysmal, boomingsound— thunderously bass and reverberant.
Abruptly the harpings ceased; the moon fires shuddered, fell, and began tosweep back into the crystal globes; Yolara's swaying form grew rigid, everyatom of it listening. She threw aside the veiling cloud of hair, and in thegleam of the last retreating spirals her face glared out like some old Greekmask of tragedy.
The sweet lips that even at their sweetest could never lose their delicatecruelty, had no sweetness now. They were drawn into a square— inhumanas that of the Medusa; in her eyes were the fires of the pit, and her hairseemed to writhe like the serpent locks of that Gorgon whose mouth she hadborrowed; all her beauty was transformed into a nameless thing— hideous,inhuman, blasting! If this was the true soul of Yolara springing to her face,then, I thought, God help us in very deed!
I wrested my gaze away to O'Keefe. All drunkenness gone, himself again, hewas staring down at her, and in his eyes were loathing and horror unutterable.So they stood— and the light fled.
Only for a moment did the darkness hold. With lightning swiftness the blacknessthat was the chamber's other wall vanished. Through a portal open betweengrey screens, the silver sparkling radiance poured.
And through the portal marched, two by two, incredible, nightmarefigures— frog men, giants, taller by nearly a yard than even tall O'Keefe!Their enormous saucer eyes were irised by wide bands of green-flecked red,in which the phosphorescence flickered. Their long muzzles, lips half-openin monstrous grin, held rows of glistening, slender, lancet sharp fangs.Over the glaring eyes arose a horny helmet, a carapace of black and orangescales, studded with foot-long lance-headed horns.
They lined themselves like soldiers on each side of the wide table aisle,and now I could see that their horny armour covered shoulders and backs,ran across the chest in a knobbed cuirass, and at wrists and heels juttedout into curved, murderous spurs. The webbed hands and feet ended in yellow,spade-shaped claws.
They carried spears, ten feet, at least, in length, the heads of which werepointed cones, glistening with that same covering, from whose touch of swiftdecay I had so narrowly saved Rador.
They were grotesque, yes— more grotesque than anything I had ever seenor dreamed, and they were— terrible!
And then, quietly, through their ranks came— a girl! Behind her, enormouspouch at his throat swelling in and out menacingly, in one paw a treelike,spike-studded mace, a frog-man, huger than any of the others, guarding. Butof him I caught but a fleeting, involuntary impression— all my gaze wasfor her.
For it was she who had pointed out to us the way from the peril of the Dweller'slair on Nan-Tauach. And as I looked at her, I marvelled that ever could Ihave thought the priestess more beautiful. Into the eyes of O'Keefe rushedjoy and an utter abasement of shame.
And from all about came murmurs— edged with anger, half-incredulous,tinged with fear:
"Lakla!"
"Lakla!"
"The handmaiden!"
She halted close beside me. From firm little chin to dainty buskined feetshe was swathed in the soft robes of dull, almost coppery hue. The left armwas hidden, the right free and gloved. Wound tight about it was one of thevines of the sculptured wall and of Lugur's circled signet-ring. Thick, avivid green, its five tendrils ran between her fingers, stretching out fiveflowered heads that gleamed like blossoms cut from gigantic, glowing rubies.
So she stood contemplating Yolara. Then drawn perhaps by my gaze, she droppedher eyes upon me; golden, translucent, with tiny flecks of amber in theiraureate irises, the soul that looked through them was as far removed fromthat flaming out of the priestess's as zenith is above nadir.
I noted the low, broad brow, the proud little nose, the tender mouth, andthe soft— sunlight— glow that seemed to transfuse the delicate skin.And suddenly in the eyes dawned a smile— sweet, friendly, a touch ofroguishness, profoundly reassuring in its all humanness. I felt my heartexpand as though freed from fetters, a recrudescence of confidence in theessential reality of things— as though in nightmare the strugglingconsciousness should glimpse some familiar face and know the terrors withwhich it strove were but dreams. And involuntarily I smiled back at her.
She raised her head and looked again at Yolara, contempt and a certain curiosityin her gaze; at O'Keefe— and through the softened eyes drifted swiftlya shadow of sorrow, and on its fleeting wings deepest interest, and hoveringover that a naive approval as reassuringly human as had been her smile.
She spoke, and her voice, deep-timbred, liquid gold as was Yolara's all silver,was subtly the synthesis of all the golden glowing beauty of her.
"The Silent Ones have sent me, O Yolara," she said. "And this is their commandto you— that you deliver to me to bring before them three of the fourstrangers who have found their way here. For him there who plots withLugur"— she pointed at Marakinoff, and I saw Yolara start— "theyhave no need. Into his heart the Silent Ones have looked; and Lugur and youmay keep him, Yolara!"
There was honeyed venom in the last words.
Yolara was herself now; only the edge of shrillness on her voice revealedher wrath as she answered.
"And whence have the Silent Ones gained power to command, choya?"
This last, I knew, was a very vulgar word; I had heard Rador use it in amoment of anger to one of the serving maids, and it meant, approximately,"kitchen girl," "scullion." Beneath the insult and the acid disdain, theblood rushed up under Lakla's ambered ivory skin.
"Yolara"— her voice was low— "of no use is it to question me. I ambut the messenger of the Silent Ones. And one thing only am I bidden to askyou— do you deliver to me the three strangers?"
Lugur was on his feet; eagerness, sardonic delight, sinister anticipationthrilling from him— and my same glance showed Marakinoff, crouched, bitinghis finger-nails, glaring at the Golden Girl.
"No!" Yolara spat the word. "No! Now by Thanaroa and by the Shining One,no!" Her eyes blazed, her nostrils were wide, in her fair throat a littlepulse beat angrily. "You, Lakla— take you my message to the SilentOnes. Say to them that I keep this man"— she pointed to Larry— "becausehe is mine. Say to them that I keep the yellow-haired one and him" — shepointed to me— "because it pleases me.
"Tell them that upon their mouths I place my foot, so!"— she stampedupon the dais viciously— "and that in their faces I spit!"— and heraction was hideously snakelike. "And say last to them, you handmaiden, thatif you they dare send to Yolara again, she will feed you tothe Shining One! Now— go!"
The handmaiden's face was white.
"Not unforeseen by the three was this, Yolara," she replied. "And did youspeak as you have spoken then was I bidden to say this to you." Her voicedeepened. "Three tal have you to take counsel, Yolara. And at theend of that time these things must you have determined— either to door not to do: first, send the strangers to the Silent Ones; second, giveup, you and Lugur and all of you, that dream you have of conquest of theworld without; and, third, forswear the Shining One! And if you do not oneand all these things, then are you done, your cup of life broken, your wineof life spilled. Yea, Yolara, for you and the Shining One, Lugur and theNine and all those here and their kind shall pass! This say the Silent Ones,'Surely shall all of ye pass and be as though never had ye been!'"
Now a gasp of rage and fear arose from all those around me but the priestessthrew back her head and laughed loud and long. Into the silver sweet chimingof her laughter clashed that of Lugur— and after a little the noblestook it up, till the whole chamber echoed with their mirth. O'Keefe, lipstightening, moved toward the handmaiden, and almost imperceptibly, butperemptorily, she waved him back.
"Those are great words— great words indeed, choya," shrilledYolara at last; and again Lakla winced beneath the word. "Lo, for layaupon laya, the Shining One has been freed from the Three; and forlaya upon laya they have sat helpless, rotting. Now I ask youagain— whence comes their power to lay their will upon me, and whencecomes their strength to wrestle with the Shining One and the beloved of theShining One?"
And again she laughed— and again Lugur and all the fair-haired joinedin her laughter.
Into the eyes of Lakla I saw creep a doubt, a wavering; as though deep withinher the foundations of her own belief were none too firm.
She hesitated, turning upon O'Keefe gaze in which rested more than suggestionof appeal! And Yolara saw, too, for she flushed with triumph, stretched afinger toward the handmaiden.
"Look!" she cried. "Look! Why, even she does not believe!" Her voicegrew silk of silver— merciless, cruel. "Now am I minded to send anotheranswer to the Silent Ones. Yea! But not by you, Lakla; by these"— shepointed to the frog-men, and, swift as light, her hand darted into her bosom,bringing forth the little shining cone of death.
But before she could level it the Golden Girl had released that hidden leftarm and thrown over her face a fold of the metallic swathings. Swifter thanYolara, she raised the arm that held the vine— and now I knew this wasno inert blossoming thing.
It was alive!
It writhed down her arm, and its five rubescent flower heads thrust out towardthe priestess— vibrating, quivering, held in leash only by the lighttouch of the handmaiden at its very end.
From the swelling throat pouch of the monster behind her came a successionof the reverberant boomings. The frog-men wheeled, raised their lances, levelledthem at the throng. Around the reaching ruby flowers a faint red mist swiftlygrew.
The silver cone dropped from Yolara's rigid fingers; her eyes grew starkwith horror; all her unearthly loveliness fled from her; she stood pale-lipped.The handmaiden dropped the protecting veil— and now it was she who laughed.
"It would seem, then, Yolara, that there is a thing of the SilentOnes ye fear!" she said. "Well— the kiss of the Yekta I promiseyou in return for the embrace of your Shining One."
She looked at Larry, long, searchingly, and suddenly again with all thateffect of sunlight bursting into dark places, her smile shone upon him. Shenodded, half gaily; looked down upon me, the little merry light dancing inher eyes; waved her hand to me.
She spoke to the giant frog-man. He wheeled behind her as she turned, facingthe priestess, club upraised, fangs glistening. His troop moved not a jot,spears held high. Lakla began to pass slowly— almost, I thought,tauntingly— and as she reached the portal Larry leaped from the dais.
"Alanna!" he cried. "You'll not be leavin' me just when I've foundyou!"
In his excitement he spoke in his own tongue, the velvet brogue appealing.Lakla turned, contemplated O'Keefe, hesitant, unquestionably longingly,irresistibly like a child making up her mind whether she dared or dared nottake a delectable something offered her.
"I go with you," said O'Keefe, this time in her own speech. "Come on, Doc!"He reached out a hand to me.
But now Yolara spoke. Life and beauty had flowed back into her face, andin the purple eyes all her hosts of devils were gathered.
"Do you forget what I promised you before Siya and Siyana? And do you thinkthat you can leave me— me— as though I were achoya— like her." She pointed to Lakla. "Do you——"
"Now, listen, Yolara," Larry interrupted almost plaintively. "No promisehas passed from me to you— and why would you hold me?" He passedunconsciously into English. "Be a good sport, Yolara," he urged. "Youhave got a very devil of a temper, you know, and so have I; and we'dbe really awfully uncomfortable together. And why don't you get rid of thatdevilish pet of yours, and be good!"
She looked at him, puzzled. Marakinoff leaned over, translated to Lugur.The red dwarf smiled maliciously, drew near the priestess; whispered to herwhat was without doubt as near as he could come in the Murian to Larry'sown very colloquial phrases.
Yolara's lips writhed.
"Hear me, Lakla!" she cried. "Now would I not let you take this man fromme were I to dwell ten thousand laya in the agony of theYekta's kiss. This I swear to you— by Thanaroa, by my heart, andby my strength— and may my strength wither, my heart rot in my breast,and Thanaroa forget me if I do!"
"Listen, Yolara——" began O'Keefe again.
"Be silent, you!" It was almost a shriek. And her hand again sought in herbreast for the cone of rhythmic death.
Lugur touched her arm, whispered again. The glint of guile shone in her eyes;she laughed softly, relaxed.
"The Silent Ones, Lakla, bade you say that they— allowed— me threetal to decide," she said suavely. "Go now in peace, Lakla, and saythat Yolara has heard, and that for the three talthey— allow— her she will take council." The handmaiden hesitated.
"The Silent Ones have said it," she answered at last. "Stay you here,strangers"— the long lashes drooped as her eyes met O'Keefe's and a hintof blush was in her cheeks— "stay you here, strangers, till then. But,Yolara, see you on that heart and strength you have sworn by that they cometo no harm— else that which you have invoked shall come upon you swiftlyindeed— and that I promise you," she added.
Their eyes met, clashed, burned into each other— black flame from Abaddonand golden flame from Paradise.
"Remember!" said Lakla, and passed through the portal. The gigantic frog-manboomed a thunderous note of command, his grotesque guards turned and slowlyfollowed their mistress; and last of all passed out the monster with themace.
CHAPTER XXI
Larry's Defiance
A clamour arose from all the chambers; stilled in an instant by a motionof Yolara's hand. She stood silent, regarding O'Keefe with something othernow than blind wrath; something half regretful, half beseeching. But theIrishman's control was gone.
"Yolara,"— his voice shook with rage, and he threw caution to thewind— "now hear me. I go where I will and when I will. Here shallwe stay until the time she named is come. And then we follow her, whetheryou will or not. And if any should have thought to stop us— tell themof that flame that shattered the vase," he added grimly.
The wistfulness died out of her eyes, leaving them cold. But no answer madeshe to him.
"What Lakla has said, the Council must consider, and at once." The priestesswas facing the nobles. "Now, friends of mine, and friends of Lugur, mustall feud, all rancour, between us end." She glanced swiftly at Lugur. "Theladala are stirring, and the Silent Ones threaten. Yet fear not— forare we not strong under the Shining One? And now— leave us."
Her hand dropped to the table, and she gave, evidently, a signal, for inmarched a dozen or more of the green dwarfs.
"Take these two to their place," she commanded, pointing to us.
The green dwarfs clustered about us. Without another look at the priestessO'Keefe marched beside me, between them, from the chamber. And it was notuntil we had reached the pillared entrance that Larry spoke.
"I hate to talk like that to a woman, Doc," he said, "and a pretty woman,at that. But first she played me with a marked deck, and then not only pinchedall the chips, but drew a gun on me. What the hell!— she nearly hadme— married— to her. I don't know what the stuff was she gaveme; but, take it from me, if I had the recipe for that brew I could sellit for a thousand dollars a jolt at Forty-second and Broadway.
"One jigger of it, and you forget there is a trouble in the world; threeof them, and you forget there is a world. No excuse for it, Doc; and I don'tcare what you say or what Lakla may say— it wasn't my fault, and I don'thold it up against myself for a damn."
"I must admit that I'm a bit uneasy about her threats," I said, ignoringall this. He stopped abruptly.
"What're you afraid of?"
"Mostly," I answered dryly, "I have no desire to dance with the Shining One!"
"Listen to me, Goodwin," He took up his walk impatiently. "I've all the loveand admiration for you in the world; but this place has got your nerve. Hereafterone Larry O'Keefe, of Ireland and the little old U. S. A., leads this party.Nix on the tremolo stop, nix on the superstition! I'm the works. Get me?"
"Yes, I get you!" I exclaimed testily enough. "But to use your own phrase,kindly can the repeated references to superstition."
"Why should I?" He was almost wrathful. "You scientific people build up wholephilosophies on the basis of things you never saw, and you scoff at peoplewho believe in other things that you think they never saw and thatdon't come under what you label scientific. You talk about paradoxes— why,your scientist, who thinks he is the most skeptical, the most materialisticaggregation of atoms ever gathered at the exact mathematical centre of Missouri,has more blind faith than a dervish, and more credulity, more superstition,than a cross-eyed smoke beating it past a country graveyard in the dark ofthe moon!"
"Larry!" I cried, dazed.
"Olaf's no better," he said. "But I can make allowances for him. He's a sailor.No, sir. What this expedition needs is a man without superstition. And rememberthis. The leprechaun promised that I'd have full warning before anythinghappened. And if we do have to go out, we'll see that banshee bunch cleanup before we do, and pass in a blaze of glory. And don't forget it.Hereafter— I'm— in— charge!"
By this time we were before our pavilion; and neither of us in a very amiablemood I'm afraid. Rador was awaiting us with a score of his men.
"Let none pass in here without authority— and let none pass out unlessI accompany them," he ordered bruskly. "Summon one of the swiftest of thecoria and have it wait in readiness," he added, as though by afterthought.
But when we had entered and the screens were drawn together his manner changed;all eagerness he questioned us. Briefly we told him of the happenings atthe feast, of Lakla's dramatic interruption, and of what had followed.
"Three tal," he said musingly; "three tal the Silent Ones haveallowed— and Yolara agreed." He sank back, silent and thoughtful.[6]
[6 A tal in Muria is the equivalent of thirty hoursof earth surface time.— W. T. G.] 
"Ja!" It was Olaf. "Ja! I told you the Shining Devil's mistresswas all evil. Ja! Now I begin again that tale I started when hecame"— he glanced toward the preoccupied Rador. "And tell him not whatI say should he ask. For I trust none here in Trolldom, save theJomfrau— the White Virgin!
"After the oldster was adsprede"— Olaf once more used that expressiveNorwegian word for the dissolving of Songar— "I knew that it was a timefor cunning. I said to myself, 'If they think I have no ears to hear, theywill speak; and it may be I will find a way to save my Helma and Dr. Goodwin'sfriends, too.' Ja, and they did speak.
"The red Trolde asked the Russian how came it he was a worshipperof Thanaroa." I could not resist a swift glance of triumph toward O'Keefe."And the Russian," rumbled Olaf, "said that all his people worshipped Thanaroaand had fought against the other nations that denied him.
"And then we had come to Lugur's palace. They put me in rooms, and therecame to me men who rubbed and oiled me and loosened my muscles. The nextday I wrestled with a great dwarf they called Valdor. He was a mighty man,and long we struggled, and at last I broke his back. And Lugur was pleased,so that I sat with him at feast and with the Russian, too. And again, notknowing that I understood them, they talked.
"The Russian had gone fast and far. They talked of Lugur as emperor of allEurope, and Marakinoff under him. They spoke of the green light that shooklife from the oldster; and Lugur said that the secret of it had been theAncient Ones' and that the Council had not too much of it. But the Russiansaid that among his race were many wise men who could make more once theyhad studied it.
"And the next day I wrestled with a great dwarf named Tahola, mightier farthan Valdor. Him I threw after a long, long time, and his back also I broke.Again Lugur was pleased. And again we sat at table, he and the Russian andI. This time they spoke of something these Trolde have which opensup a Svaelc— abysses into which all in its range drops up intothe sky!"
"What!" I exclaimed.
"I know about them," said Larry. "Wait!"
"Lugur had drunk much," went on Olaf. "He was boastful. The Russian pressedhim to show this thing. After a while the red one went out and came backwith a little golden box. He and the Russian went into the garden. I followedthem. There was a lille Hoj— a mound— of stones in that gardenon which grew flowers and trees.
"Lugur pressed upon the box, and a spark no bigger than a sand grain leapedout and fell beside the stones. Lugur pressed again, and a blue light shotfrom the box and lighted on the spark. The spark that had been no biggerthan a grain of sand grew and grew as the blue struck it. And then therewas a sighing, a wind blew— and the stones and the flowers and the treeswere not. They were forsvinde— vanished!
"Then Lugur, who had been laughing, grew quickly sober; for he thrust theRussian back— far back. And soon down into the garden came tumbling thestones and the trees, but broken and shattered, and falling as though froma great height. And Lugur said that of this something they had much,for its making was a secret handed down by their own forefathers and notby the Ancient Ones.
"They feared to use it, he said, for a spark thrice as large as that he hadused would have sent all that garden falling upward and might have openeda way to the outside before— he said just this— 'before we areready to go out into it!'
"The Russian questioned much, but Lugur sent for more drink and grew merrierand threatened him, and the Russian was silent through fear. Thereafter Ilistened when I could, and little more I learned, but that little enough.Ja! Lugur is hot for conquest; so Yolara and so the Council. Theytire of it here and the Silent Ones make their minds not too easy, no, eventhough they jeer at them! And this they plan— to rule our world withtheir Shining Devil."
The Norseman was silent for a moment; then voice deep, trembling——
"Trolldom is awake; Helvede crouches at Earth Gate whining to be loosed intoa world already devil ridden! And we are but three!"
I felt the blood drive out of my heart. But Larry's was the fighting faceof the O'Keefes of a thousand years. Rador glanced at him, arose, steppedthrough the curtains; returned swiftly with the Irishman's uniform.
"Put it on," he said, bruskly; again fell back into his silence and whateverO'Keefe had been about to say was submerged in his wild and joyful whoop.He ripped from him glittering tunic and leg swathings.
"Richard is himself again!" he shouted; and each garment as he donned it,fanned his old devil-may-care confidence to a higher flame. The last scrapof it on, he drew himself up before us.
"Bow down, ye divils!" he cried. "Bang your heads on the floor and do homageto Larry the First, Emperor of Great Britain, Autocrat of all Ireland, Scotland,England, and Wales, and adjacent waters and islands! Kneel, ye scuts, kneel."
"Larry," I cried, "are you going crazy?"
"Not a bit of it," he said. "I'm that and more if Comrade Marakinoff is onthe level. Whoop! Bring forth the royal jewels an' put a whole new bunchof golden strings in Tara's harp an' down with the Sassenach forever! Whoop!"
He did a wild jig.
"Lord how good the old togs feel," he grinned. "The touch of 'em has goneto my head. But it's straight stuff I'm telling you about my empire."
He sobered.
"Not that it's not serious enough at that. A lot that Olaf's told us I'vesurmised from hints dropped by Yolara. But I got the full key to it fromthe Red himself when he stopped me just before— before"— hereddened— "well, just before I acquired that brand-new brand of souse.
"Maybe he had a hint— maybe he just surmised that I knew a lot more thanI did. And he thought Yolara and I were going to be loving little turtledoves. Also he figured that Yolara had a lot more influence with the UnholyFireworks than Lugur. Also that being a woman she could be more easily handled.All this being so, what was the logical thing for himself to do? Sure, youget me, Steve! Throw down Lugur and make an alliance with me! So hecalmly offered to ditch the red dwarf if I would deliver Yolara. Myreward from Russia was to be said emperorship! Can you beat it? Good Lord!"
He went off into a perfect storm of laughter. But not to me in the lightof what Russia has done and has proved herself capable, did this thing seemat all absurd; rather in it I sensed the dawn of catastrophe colossal.
"And yet," he was quiet enough now, "I'm a bit scared. They've got theKeth ray and those gravity-destroying bombs——"
"Gravity-destroying bombs!" I gasped.
"Sure," he said. "The little fairy that sent the trees and stones kitingup from Lugur's garden. Marakinoff licked his lips over them. They cut offgravity, just about as the shadow screens cut off light— and consequentlywhatever's in their range goes shooting just naturally up to themoon——
"They get my goat, why deny it?" went on Larry. "With them and theKeth and gentle invisible soldiers walking around assassinating atwill— well, the worst Bolsheviki are only puling babes, eh, Doc?
"I don't mind the Shining One," said O'Keefe, "one splash of a downtown NewYork high-pressure fire hose would do for it! But the others— are thegoods! Believe me!"
But for once O'Keefe's confidence found no echo within me. Not lightly, ashe, did I hold that dread mystery, the Dweller— and a vision passed beforeme, a vision of an Apocalypse undreamed by the Evangelist.
A vision of the Shining One swirling into our world, a monstrous, gloriousflaming pillar of incarnate, eternal Evil— of peoples passing throughits radiant embrace into that hideous, unearthly life-in-death which I hadseen enfold the sacrifices— of armies trembling into dancing atoms ofdiamond dust beneath the green ray's rhythmic death— of cities rushingout into space upon the wings of that other demoniac force which Olaf hadwatched at work— of a haunted world through which the assassins of theDweller's court stole invisible, carrying with them every passion ofhell— of the rallying to the Thing of every sinister soul and of theweak and the unbalanced, mystics and carnivores of humanity alike; for wellI knew that, once loosed, not any nation could hold this devil-god for longand that swiftly its blight would spread!
And then a world that was all colossal reek of cruelty and terror; a welterof lusts, of hatreds and of torment; a chaos of horror in which the Dwellerwaxing ever stronger, the ghastly hordes of those it had consumed growingever greater, wreaked its inhuman will!
At the last a ruined planet, a cosmic plague, spinning through the shudderingheavens; its verdant plains, its murmuring forests, its meadows and its mountainsmanned only by a countless crew of soulless, mindless dead-alive, their shellsillumined with the Dweller's infernal glory— and flaming over this vampirizedearth like a flare from some hell far, infinitely far, beyond the reach ofman's farthest flung imagining— the Dweller!
Rador jumped to his feet; walked to the whispering globe. He bent over itsbase; did something with its mechanism; beckoned to us. The globe swam rapidly,faster than ever I had seen it before. A low humming arose, changed intoa murmur, and then from it I heard Lugur's voice clearly.
"It is to be war then?"
There was a chorus of assent— from the Council, I thought.
"I will take the tall one named— Larree." It was the priestess'svoice. "After the three tal, you may have him, Lugur, to do with asyou will."
"No!" it was Lugur's voice again, but with a rasp of anger. "All must die."
"He shall die," again Yolara. "But I would that first he see Lakla pass— andthat she know what is to happen to him."
"No!" I started— for this was Marakinoff. "Now is no time, Yolara, forone's own desires. This is my counsel. At the end of the three talLakla will come for our answer. Your men will be in ambush and they willslay her and her escort quickly with the Keth. But not till that isdone must the three be slain— and then quickly. With Lakla dead we shallgo forth to the Silent Ones— and I promise you that I will find the wayto destroy them!"
"It is well!" It was Lugur.
"It is well, Yolara." It was a woman's voice, and I knew it for thatold one of ravaged beauty. "Cast from your mind whatever is in it for thisstranger— either of love or hatred. In this the Council is with Lugurand the man of wisdom."
There was a silence. Then came the priestess's voice, sullen but— beaten.
"It is well!"
"Let the three be taken now by Rador to the temple and given to the HighPriest Sator"— thus Lugur— "until what we have planned comes to pass."
Rador gripped the base of the globe; abruptly it ceased its spinning. Heturned to us as though to speak and even as he did so its bell note soundedperemptorily and on it the colour films began to creep at their accustomedpace.
"I hear," the green dwarf whispered. "They shall be taken there at once."The globe grew silent. He stepped toward us.
"You have heard," he turned to us.
"Not on your life, Rador," said Larry. "Nothing doing!" And then in the Murian'sown tongue. "We follow Lakla, Rador. And you lead the way." He thrustthe pistol close to the green dwarf's side.
Rador did not move.
"Of what use, Larree?" he said, quietly. "Me you can slay— butin the end you will be taken. Life is not held so dear in Muria that my menout there or those others who can come quickly will let you by— eventhough you slay many. And in the end they will overpower you."
There was a trace of irresolution in O'Keefe's face.
"And," added Rador, "if I let you go I dance with the Shining One— orworse!"
O'Keefe's pistol hand dropped.
"You're a good sport, Rador, and far be it from me to get you in bad," hesaid. "Take us to the temple— when we get there— well, yourresponsibility ends, doesn't it?"
The green dwarf nodded; on his face a curious expression— was it relief?Or was it emotion higher than this?
He turned curtly.
"Follow," he said. We passed out of that gay little pavilion that had cometo be home to us even in this alien place. The guards stood at attention.
"You, Sattoya, stand by the globe," he ordered one of them. "Should the AfyoMaie ask, say that I am on my way with the strangers even as she hascommanded."
We passed through the lines to the corial standing like a great shellat the end of the runway leading into the green road.
"Wait you here," he said curtly to the driver. The green dwarf ascended tohis seat, sought the lever and we swept on— on and out upon the glisteningobsidian.
Then Rador faced us and laughed.
"Larree," he cried, "I love you for that spirit of yours! And didyou think that Rador would carry to the temple prison a man who would takethe chances of torment upon his own shoulders to save him? Or you, Goodwin,who saved him from the rotting death? For what did I take the corialor lift the veil of silence that I might hear what threatened you——"
He swept the corial to the left, away from the temple approach.
"I am done with Lugur and with Yolara and the Shining One!" cried Rador."My hand is for you three and for Lakla and those to whom she is handmaiden!"
The shell leaped forward; seemed to fly.
CHAPTER XXII
The Casting of the Shadow
Now we were racing down toward that last span whose ancientness had set itapart from all the other soaring arches. The shell's speed slackened; weapproached warily.
"We pass there?" asked O'Keefe.
The green dwarf nodded, pointing to the right where the bridge ended in abroad platform held high upon two gigantic piers, between which ran a spurfrom the glistening road. Platform and bridge were swarming with men-at-arms;they crowded the parapets, looking down upon us curiously but with no evidenceof hostility. Rador drew a deep breath of relief.
"We don't have to break our way through, then?" There was disappointmentin the Irishman's voice.
"No use, Larree!" Smiling, Rador stopped the corial just beneaththe arch and beside one of the piers. "Now, listen well. They have had nowarning, hence does Yolara still think us on the way to the temple. Thisis the gateway of the Portal— and the gateway is closed by the Shadow.Once I commanded here and I know its laws. This must I do— by craft persuadeSerku, the keeper of the gateway, to lift the Shadow; or raise it myself.And that will be hard and it may well be that in the struggle life will bestripped of us all. Yet is it better to die fighting than to dance with theShining One!"
He swept the shell around the pier. Opened a wide plaza paved with the volcanicglass, but black as that down which we had sped from the chamber of the MoonPool. It shone like a mirrored lakelet of jet; on each side of it arose whatat first glance seemed towering bulwarks of the same ebon obsidian; at second,revealed themselves as structures hewn and set in place by men; polishedfaces pierced by dozens of high, narrow windows.
Down each facade a stairway fell, broken by small landings on which a dooropened; they dropped to a broad ledge of greyish stone edging the lip ofthis midnight pool and upon it also fell two wide flights from either sideof the bridge platform. Along all four stairways the guards were ranged;and here and there against the ledge stood the shells— in a curiouslycomforting resemblance to parked motors in our own world.
The sombre walls bulked high; curved and ended in two obelisked pillars fromwhich, like a tremendous curtain, stretched a barrier of that tenebrous gloomwhich, though weightless as shadow itself, I now knew to be as impenetrableas the veil between life and death. In this murk, unlike all others I hadseen, I sensed movement, a quivering, a tremor constant and rhythmic; notto be seen, yet caught by some subtle sense; as though through it beat aswift pulse of— black light.
The green dwarf turned the corial slowly to the edge at the right;crept cautiously on toward where, not more than a hundred feet from the barrier,a low, wide entrance opened in the fort. Guarding its threshold stood twoguards, armed with broadswords, double-handed, terminating in a wide lunettemouthed with murderous fangs. These they raised in salute and through theportal strode a dwarf huge as Rador, dressed as he and carrying only theponiard that was the badge of office of Muria's captainry.
The green dwarf swept the shell expertly against the ledge; leaped out.
"Greeting, Serku!" he answered. "I was but looking for the coria ofLakla."
"Lakla!" exclaimed Serku. "Why, the handmaiden passed with her Akkanigh a va ago!"
"Passed!" The astonishment of the green dwarf was so real that half was Imyself deceived. "You let her pass?"
"Certainly I let her pass——" But under the green dwarf's sterngaze the truculence of the guardian faded. "Why should I not?" he asked,apprehensively.
"Because Yolara commanded otherwise," answered Rador, coldly.
"There came no command to me." Little beads of sweat stood out on Serku'sforehead.
"Serku," interrupted the gree arf swiftly, "truly is my heart wrung foryou. This is a matter of Yolara and of Lugur and the Council; yes, even ofthe Shining One! And the message was sent— and the fate, mayhap, of allMuria rested upon your obedience and the return of Lakla with these strangersto the Council. Now truly is my heart wrung, for there are few I would lesslike to see dance with the Shining One than you, Serku," he ended, softly.
Livid now was the gateway's guardian, his great frame shaking.
"Come with me and speak to Yolara," he pleaded. "There came no message— tellher——"
"Wait, Serku!" There was a thrill as of inspiration in Rador's voice. "Thiscorial is of the swiftest— Lakla's are of the slowest. With Laklascarce a va ahead we can reach her before she enters the Portal. Liftyou the Shadow— we will bring her back, and this will I do for you, Serku."
Doubt tempered Serku's panic.
"Why not go alone, Rador, leaving the strangers here with me?" he asked— andI thought not unreasonably.
"Nay, then." The green dwarf was brusk. "Lakla will not return unless I carryto her these men as evidence of our good faith. Come— we will speak toYolara and she shall judge you——" He started away— but Serkucaught his arm.
"No, Rador, no!" he whispered, again panic-stricken. "Go you— as youwill. But bring her back! Speed, Rador!" He sprang toward the entrance. "Ilift the Shadow——"
Into the green dwarf's poise crept a curious, almost a listening, alertness.He leaped to Serku's side.
"I go with you," I heard. "Some little I can tell you——" They weregone.
"Fine work!" muttered Larry. "Nominated for a citizen of Ireland when weget out of this, one Rador of——"
The Shadow trembled— shuddered into nothingness; the obelisked outpoststhat had held it framed a ribbon of roadway, high banked with verdure, vanishingin green distances.
And then from the portal sped a shriek, a death cry! It cut through the silenceof the ebon pit like a whimpering arrow. Before it had died, down the stairwayscame pouring the guards. Those at the threshold raised their swords and peeredwithin. Abruptly Rador was between them. One dropped his hilt and grippedhim— the green dwarf's poniard flashed and was buried in his throat.Down upon Rador's head swept the second blade. A flame leaped from O'Keefe'shand and the sword seemed to fling itself from its wielder's grasp— anotherflash and the soldier crumpled. Rador threw himself into the shell, dartedto the high seat— and straight between the pillars of the Shadow we flew!
There came a crackling, a darkness of vast wings flinging down upon us. Thecorial's flight was checked as by a giant's hand. The shell swervedsickeningly; there was an oddly metallic splintering; it quivered; shot ahead.Dizzily I picked myself up and looked behind.
The Shadow had fallen— but too late, a bare instant too late. And shrinkingas we fled from it, still it seemed to strain like some fettered Afrit fromEblis, throbbing with wrath, seeking with every malign power it possessedto break its bonds and pursue. Not until long after were we to know thatit had been the dying hand of Serku, groping out of oblivion, that had castit after us as a fowler upon an escaping bird.
"Snappy work, Rador!" It was Larry speaking. "But they cut the end off yourbus all right!"
A full quarter of the hindward whorl was gone, sliced off cleanly. Radornoted it with anxious eyes.
"That is bad," he said, "but not too bad perhaps. All depends upon how closelyLugur and his men can follow us."
He raised a hand to O'Keefe in salute.
"But to you, Larree, I owe my life— not even the Keth couldhave been as swift to save me as that death flame of yours— friend!"
The Irishman waved an airy hand.
"Serku"— the green dwarf drew from his girdle the bloodstainedponiard— "Serku I was forced to slay. Even as he raised the Shadow theglobe gave the alarm. Lugur follows with twice ten times ten of hisbest——" He hesitated. "Though we have escaped the Shadow it hastaken toll of our swiftness. May we reach the Portal before it closes uponLakla— but if we do not——" He paused again. "Well— I knowa way— but it is not one I am gay to follow— no!"
He snapped open the aperture that held the ball flaming within the dark crystal;peered at it anxiously. I crept to the torn end of the corial. Theedges were crumbling, disintegrated. They powdered in my fingers like dust.Mystified still, I crept back where Larry, sheer happiness pouring from him,was whistling softly and polishing up his automatic. His gaze fell upon Olaf'sgrim, sad face and softened.
"Buck up, Olaf!" he said. "We've got a good fighting chance. Once we linkup with Lakla and her crowd I'm betting that we get your wife— neverdoubt it! The baby——" he hesitated awkwardly. The Norseman's eyesfilled; he stretched a hand to the O'Keefe.
"The Yndling— she is of the de Dode," he half whispered,"of the blessed dead. For her I have no fear and for her vengeance will begiven me. Ja! But my Helma— she is of the dead-alive— likethose we saw whirling like leaves in the light of the Shining Devil— andI would that she too were of de Dode— and at rest. I do not knowhow to fight the Shining Devil— no!"
His bitter despair welled up in his voice.
"Olaf," Larry's voice was gentle. "We'll come out on top— I know it.Remember one thing. All this stuff that seems so strange and— and, well,sort of supernatural, is just a lot of tricks we're not hep to as yet. Why,Olaf, suppose you took a Fijian when the war was on and set him suddenlydown in London with autos rushing past, sirens blowing, Archies popping,a dozen enemy planes dropping bombs, and the searchlights shooting all overthe sky— wouldn't he think he was among thirty-third degree devils insome exclusive circle of hell? Sure he would! And yet everything he saw wouldbe natural— just as natural as all this is, once we get the answer toit. Not that we're Fijians, of course, but the principle is the same."
The Norseman considered this; nodded gravely.
"Ja!" he answered at last. "And at least we can fight. That is whyI have turned to Thor of the battles, Ja! And one have I hopein for mine Helma— the white maiden. Since I have turned to the old godsit has been made clear to me that I shall slay Lugur and that theHeks, the evil witch Yolara, shall also die. But I would talk withthe white maiden."
"All right," said Larry, "but just don't be afraid of what you don't understand.There's another thing"— he hesitated, nervously— "there's anotherthing that may startle you a bit when we meet up withLakla— her— er— frogs!"
"Like the frog-woman we saw on the wall?" asked Olaf.
"Yes," went on Larry, rapidly. "It's this way— I figure that the frogsgrow rather large where she lives, and they're a bit different too. Well,Lakla's got a lot of 'em trained. Carry spears and clubs and all thatjunk— just like trained seals or monkeys or so on in the circus. Probablya custom of the place. Nothing queer about that, Olaf. Why people have allkinds of pets— armadillos and snakes and rabbits, kangaroos and elephantsand tigers."
Remembering how the frog-woman had stuck in Larry's mind from the outset,I wondered whether all this was not more to convince himself than Olaf.
"Why, I remember a nice girl in Paris who had four pet pythons——"he went on.
But I listened no more, for now I was sure of my surmise.
The road had begun to thrust itself through high-flung, sharply pinnacledmasses and rounded outcroppings of rock on which clung patches of the ambermoss.
The trees had utterly vanished, and studding the moss-carpeted plains wereonly clumps of a willowy shrub from which hung, like grapes, clusters ofwhite waxen blooms. The light too had changed; gone were the dancing, sparklingatoms and the silver had faded to a soft, almost ashen greyness. Ahead ofus marched a rampart of coppery cliffs rising, like all these mountainouswalls we had seen, into the immensities of haze. Something long driftingin my subconsciousness turned to startled realization. The speed of the shellwas slackening! The aperture containing the ionizing mechanism was stillopen; I glanced within. The whirling ball of fire was not dimmed, but itscoruscations, instead of pouring down through the cylinder, swirled and eddiedand shot back as though trying to re-enter their source. Rador nodded grimly.
"The Shadow takes its toll," he said.
We topped a rise— Larry gripped my arm.
"Look!" he cried, and pointed. Far, far behind us, so far that the road wasbut a glistening thread, a score of shining points came speeding.
"Lugur and his men," said Rador.
"Can't you step on her?" asked Larry.
"Step on her?" repeated the green dwarf, puzzled.
"Give her more speed; push her," explained O'Keefe.
Rador looked about him. The coppery ramparts were close, not more than threeor four miles distant; in front of us the plain lifted in a long rollingswell, and up this the corial essayed to go— with a terrifyinglessening of speed. Faintly behind us came shoutings, and we knew that Lugurdrew close. Nor anywhere was there sign of Lakla nor her frogmen.
Now we were half-way to the crest; the shell barely crawled and from beneathit came a faint hissing; it quivered, and I knew that its base was no longerheld above the glassy surface but rested on it.
"One last chance!" exclaimed Rador. He pressed upon the control lever andwrenched it from its socket. Instantly the sparkling ball expanded, whirlingwith prodigious rapidity and sending a cascade of coruscations into the cylinder.The shell rose; leaped through the air; the dark crystal split into fragments;the fiery ball dulled; died— but upon the impetus of that last thrustwe reached the crest. Poised there for a moment, I caught a glimpse of theroad dropping down the side of an enormous moss-covered, bowl-shaped valleywhose sharply curved sides ended abruptly at the base of the towering barrier.
Then down the steep, powerless to guide or to check the shell, we plungedin a meteor rush straight for the annihilating adamantine breasts of thecliffs!
Now the quick thinking of Larry's air training came to our aid. As the rampartreared close he threw himself upon Rador; hurled him and himself againstthe side of the flying whorl. Under the shock the finely balanced machineswerved from its course. It struck the soft, low bank of the road, shot highin air, bounded on through the thick carpeting, whirled like a dervish andfell upon its side. Shot from it, we rolled for yards, but the moss savedbroken bones or serious bruise.
"Quick!" cried the green dwarf. He seized an arm, dragged me to my feet,began running to the cliff base not a hundred feet away. Beside us racedO'Keefe and Olaf. At our left was the black road. It stopped abruptly— wascut off by a slab of polished crimson stone a hundred feet high, and as wide,set within the coppery face of the barrier. On each side of it stood pillars,cut from the living rock and immense, almost, as those which held the rainbowveil of the Dweller. Across its face weaved unnameable carvings— butI had no time for more than a glance. The green dwarf gripped my arm again.
"Quick!" he cried again. "The handmaiden has passed!"
At the right of the Portal ran a low wall of shattered rock. Over this weraced like rabbits. Hidden behind it was a narrow path. Crouching, Radorin the lead, we sped along it; three hundred, four hundred yards weraced— and the path ended in a cul de sac! To our ears was bornea louder shouting.
The first of the pursuing shells had swept over the lip of the great bowl,poised for a moment as we had and then began a cautious descent. Within it,scanning the slopes, I saw Lugur.
"A little closer and I'll get him!" whispered Larry viciously. He raisedhis pistol.
His hand was caught in a mighty grip; Rador, eyes blazing, stood beside him.
"No!" rasped the green dwarf. He heaved a shoulder against one of the bouldersthat formed the pocket. It rocked aside, revealing a slit.
"In!" ordered he, straining against the weight of the stone. O'Keefe slippedthrough, Olaf at his back, I following. With a lightning leap the dwarf wasbeside me, the huge rock missing him by a hair breadth as it swung into place!
We were in Cimmerian darkness. I felt for my pocket-flash and recalled withdistress that I had left it behind with my medicine kit when we fled fromthe gardens. But Rador seemed to need no light.
"Grip hands!" he ordered. We crept, single file, holding to each other likechildren, through the black. At last the green dwarf paused.
"Await me here," he whispered. "Do not move. And for your lives— be silent!"
And he was gone.
CHAPTER XXIII
Dragon Worm and Moss Death
For a small eternity— to me at least— we waited. Then as silent asever the green dwarf returned. "It is well," he said, some of the straingone from his voice. "Grip hands again, and follow."
"Wait a bit, Rador," this was Larry. "Does Lugur know this side entrance?If he does, why not let Olaf and me go back to the opening and pick themoff as they come in? We could hold the lot— and in the meantime you andGoodwin could go after Lakla for help."
"Lugur knows the secret of the Portal— if he dare use it," answered thecaptain, with a curious indirection. "And now that they have challenged theSilent Ones I think he will dare. Also, he will find our tracks— andit may be that he knows this hidden way."
"Well, for God's sake!" O'Keefe's appalled bewilderment was almost ludicrous."If he knows all that, and you knew all that, why didn't youlet me click him when I had the chance?"
"Larree," the green dwarf was oddly humble. "It seemed good to me,too— at first. And then I heard a command, heard it clearly, to stopyou— that Lugur die not now, lest a greater vengeance fail!"
"Command? From whom?" The Irishman's voice distilled out of the blacknessthe very essence of bewilderment.
"I thought," Rador was whispering— "I thought it came from the SilentOnes!"
"Superstition!" groaned O'Keefe in utter exasperation. "Always superstition!What can you do against it!
"Never mind, Rador." His sense of humour came to his aid. "It's too latenow, anyway. Where do we go from here, old dear?" he laughed.
"We tread the path of one I am not fain to meet," answered Rador. "But ifmeet we must, point the death tubes at the pale shield he bears upon histhroat and send the flame into the flower of cold fire that is itscentre— nor look into his eyes!"
Again Larry gasped, and I with him.
"It's getting too deep for me, Doc," he muttered dejectedly. "Can you makehead or tail of it?"
"No," I answered, shortly enough, "but Rador fears something and that's hisdescription of it."
"Sure," he replied, "only it's a code I don't understand." I could feel hisgrin. "All right for the flower of cold fire, Rador, and I won't look intohis eyes," he went on cheerfully. "But hadn't we better be moving?"
"Come!" said the soldier; again hand in hand we went blindly on.
O'Keefe was muttering to himself.
"Flower of cold fire! Don't look into his eyes! Some joint! Damned superstition."Then he chuckled and carolled, softly:
"Oh, mama, pin a cold rose on me;
 Two young frog-men are in love with me;
 Shut my eyes so I can't see."
"Sh!" Rador was warning; he began whispering. "For half a va we goalong a way of death. From its peril we pass into another against whose dangersI can guard you. But in part this is in view of the roadway and it may bethat Lugur will see us. If so, we must fight as best we can. If we pass thesetwo roads safely, then is the way to the Crimson Sea clear, nor need we fearLugur nor any. And there is another thing— that Lugur does notknow— when he opens the Portal the Silent Ones will hear and Lakla andthe Akka will be swift to greet its opener."
"Rador," I asked, "how know you all this?"
"The handmaiden is my own sister's child," he answered quietly.
O'Keefe drew a long breath.
"Uncle," he remarked casually in English, "meet the man who's going to beyour nephew!"
And thereafter he never addressed the green dwarf except by the avunculartitle, which Rador, humorously enough, apparently conceived to be one ofrespectful endearment.
For me a light broke. Plain now was the reason for his foreknowledge of Lakla'sappearance at the feast where Larry had so narrowly escaped Yolara's spells;plain the determining factor that had cast his lot with ours, and my confidence,despite his discourse of mysterious perils, experienced a remarkable quickening.
Speculation as to the marked differences in pigmentation and appearance ofniece and uncle was dissipated by my consciousness that we were now movingin a dim half-light. We were in a fairly wide tunnel. Not far ahead the gleamfiltered, pale yellow like sunlight sifting through the leaves of autumnpoplars. And as we drove closer to its source I saw that it did indeed passthrough a leafy screen hanging over the passage end. This Rador drew asidecautiously, beckoned us and we stepped through.
It appeared to be a tunnel cut through soft green mould. Its base was a flatstrip of pathway a yard wide from which the walls curved out in perfectcylindrical form, smoothed and evened with utmost nicety. Thirty feet widethey were at their widest, then drew toward each other with no break in theirsymmetry; they did not close. Above was, roughly, a ten-foot rift, raggededged, through which poured light like that in the heart of pale amber, abuttercup light shot through with curiously evanescent bronze shadows.
"Quick!" commanded Rador, uneasily, and set off at a sharp pace.
Now, my eyes accustomed to the strange light, I saw that the tunnel's wallswere of moss. In them I could trace fringe leaf and curly leaf, pressingsof enormous bladder caps (Physcomitrium), immense splashes of what seemedto be the scarlet-crested Cladonia, traceries of huge moss veils, crushingsof teeth (peristome) gigantic; spore cases brown and white, saffron and ivory,hot vermilions and cerulean blues, pressed into an astounding mosaic by sometitanic force.
"Hurry!" It was Rador calling. I had lagged behind.
He quickened the pace to a half-run; we were climbing; panting. The amberlight grew stronger; the rift above us wider. The tunnel curved; on the lefta narrow cleft appeared. The green dwarf leaped toward it, thrust us within,pushed us ahead of him up a steep rocky fissure— well-nigh, indeed, achimney. Up and up this we scrambled until my lungs were bursting and I thoughtI could climb no more. The crevice ended; we crawled out and sank, even Rador,upon a little leaf-carpeted clearing circled by lacy tree ferns.
Gasping, legs aching, we lay prone, relaxed, drawing back strength and breath.Rador was first to rise. Thrice he bent low as in homage, then——
"Give thanks to the Silent Ones— for their power has been over us!" heexclaimed.
Dimly I wondered what he meant. Something about the fern leaf at which Ihad been staring aroused me. I leaped to my feet and ran to its base. Thiswas no fern, no! It was fern moss! The largest of its species I hadever found in tropic jungles had not been more than two inches high, andthis was— twenty feet! The scientific fire I had experienced in the tunnelreturned uncontrollable. I parted the fronds, gazed out——
My outlook commanded a vista of miles— and that vista! A FataMorgana of plantdom! A land of flowered sorcery!
Forests of tree-high mosses spangled over with blooms of every conceivableshape and colour; cataracts and clusters, avalanches and nets of blossomsin pastels, in dulled metallics, in gorgeous flamboyant hues; some of themphosphorescent and shining like living jewels; some sparkling as though withdust of opals, of sapphires, of rubies and topazes and emeralds; thicketsof convolvuli like the trumpets of the seven archangels of Mara, king ofillusion, which are shaped from the bows of splendours arching his highestheaven!
And moss veils like banners of a marching host of Titans; pennons and banneretsof the sunset; gonfalons of the Jinn; webs of faery; oriflammes of elfland!
Springing up through that polychromatic flood myriads of pedicles— slenderand straight as spears, or soaring in spirals, or curving with undulationsgracile as the white serpents of Tanit in ancient Carthaginian groves— andall surmounted by a fantasy of spore cases in shapes of minaret and turret,domes and spires and cones, caps of Phrygia and bishops' mitres, shapes grotesqueand unnameable— shapes delicate and lovely!
They hung high poised, nodding and swaying— like goblins hovering overTitania's court; cacophony of Cathay accenting the Flower Maidenmusic of "Parsifal"; bizarrerie of the angled, fantastic beings thatpeople the Javan pantheon watching a bacchanal of houris in Mohammed's paradise!
Down upon it all poured the amber light; dimmed in the distances by huge,drifting darkenings lurid as the flying mantles of the hurricane.
And through the light, like showers of jewels, myriads of birds, darting,dipping, soaring, and still other myriads of gigantic, shimmering butterflies.
A sound came to us, reaching out like the first faint susurrus of the incomingtide; sighing, sighing, growing stronger— now its mournful whisperingquivered all about us, shook us— then passing like a Presence, died awayin far distances.
"The Portal!" said Rador. "Lugur has entered!"
He, too, parted the fronds and peered back along our path. Peering with himwe saw the barrier through which we had come stretching verdure-covered wallsfor miles three or more away. Like a mole burrow in a garden stretched thetrail of the tunnel; here and there we could look down within the rift atits top; far off in it I thought I saw the glint of spears.
"They come!" whispered Rador. "Quick! We must not meet them here!"
And then——
"Holy St. Brigid!" gasped Larry.
From the rift in the tunnel's continuation, nigh a mile beyond the cleftthrough which we had fled, lifted a crown of horns— of tentacles— erect,alert, of mottled gold and crimson; lifted higher— and from a monstrousscarlet head beneath them blazed two enormous, obloid eyes, their depthswells of purplish phosphorescence; higher still— noseless, earless, chinless;a livid, worm mouth from which a slender scarlet tongue leaped like playingflames! Slowly it rose— its mighty neck cuirassed with gold and scarletscales from whose polished surfaces the amber light glinted like flakes offire; and under this neck shimmered something like a palely luminous silveryshield, guarding it. The head of horror mounted— and in the shield'scentre, full ten feet across, glowing, flickering, shining out— coldly,was a rose of white flame, a "flower of cold fire" even as Rador had said.
Now swiftly the Thing upreared, standing like a scaled tower a hundred feetabove the rift, its eyes scanning that movement I had seen along the courseof its lair. There was a hissing; the crown of horns fell, whipped and writhedlike the tentacles of an octopus; the towering length dropped back.
"Quick!" gasped Rador and through the fern moss, along the path and downthe other side of the steep we raced.
Behind us for an instant there was a rushing as of a torrent; a far-away,faint, agonized screaming— silence!
"No fear now from those who followed," whispered the green dwarf,pausing.
"Sainted St. Patrick!" O'Keefe gazed ruminatively at his automatic. "An'he expected me to kill that with this. Well, as Fergus O'Connor saidwhen they sent him out to slaughter a wild bull with a potato knife: 'Ye'llniver rayilize how I appreciate the confidence ye show in me!'
"What was it, Doc?" he asked.
"The dragon worm!" Rador said.
"It was Helvede Orm— the hell worm!" groaned Olaf.
"There you go again——" blazed Larry; but the green dwarf was hurryingdown the path and swiftly we followed, Larry muttering, Olaf mumbling, behindme.
The green dwarf was signalling us for caution. He pointed through a breakin a grove of fifty-foot cedar mosses— we were skirting the glassy road!Scanning it we found no trace of Lugur and wondered whether he too had seenthe worm and had fled. Quickly we passed on; drew away from the coriapath. The mosses began to thin; less and less they grew, giving way to lowclumps that barely offered us shelter. Unexpectedly another screen of fernmoss stretched before us. Slowly Rador made his way through it and stoodhesitating.
The scene in front of us was oddly weird and depressing; in some indefinableway— dreadful. Why, I could not tell, but the impression was plain; Ishrank from it. Then, self-analyzing, I wondered whether it could be theuncanny resemblance the heaps of curious mossy fungi scattered about hadto beast and bird— yes, and to man— that was the cause of it. Ourpath ran between a few of them. To the left they were thick. They wereviridescent, almost metallic hued— verd-antique. Curiously indeed werethey like distorted images of dog and deerlike forms, of birds— ofdwarfs and here and there the simulacra of the giant frogs! Sporecases, yellowish green, as large as mitres and much resembling them in shapeprotruded from the heaps. My repulsion grew into a distinct nausea.
Rador turned to us a face whiter far than that with which he had looked uponthe dragon worm.
"Now for your lives," he whispered, "tread softly here as I do— and speaknot at all!"
He stepped forward on tiptoe, slowly with utmost caution. We crept afterhim; passed the heaps beside the path— and as I passed my skin creptand I shrank and saw the others shrink too with that unnameable loathing;nor did the green dwarf pause until he had reached the brow of a small hillocka hundred yards beyond. And he was trembling.
"Now what are we up against?" grumbled O'Keefe.
The green dwarf stretched a hand; stiffened; gazed over to the left of usbeyond a lower hillock upon whose broad crest lay a file of the moss shapes.They fringed it, their mitres having a grotesque appearance of watching whatlay below. The glistening road lay there— and from it came a shout. Adozen of the coria clustered, filled with Lugur's men and in one ofthem Lugur himself, laughing wickedly!
There was a rush of soldiers and up the low hillock raced a score of themtoward us.
"Run!" shouted Rador.
"Not much!" grunted Larry— and took swift aim at Lugur. The automaticspat: Olaf's echoed. Both bullets went wild, for Lugur, still laughing, threwhimself into the protection of the body of his shell. But following the shots,from the file of moss heaps on the crest, came a series of muffled explosions.Under the pistol's concussions the mitred caps had burst and instantly allabout the running soldiers grew a cloud of tiny, glistening whitespores— like a little cloud of puff-ball dust many times magnified. Throughthis cloud I glimpsed their faces, stricken with agony.
Some turned to fly, but before they could take a second step stood rigid.
The spore cloud drifted and eddied about them; rained down on their headsand half bare breasts, covered their garments— and swiftly they beganto change! Their features grew indistinct— merged! The glistening whitespores that covered them turned to a pale yellow, grew greenish, spread andswelled, darkened. The eyes of one of the soldiers glinted for a moment— andthen were covered by the swift growth!
Where but a few moments before had been men were only grotesque heaps, swiftlymelting, swiftly rounding into the semblance of the mounds that lay behindus— and already beginning to take on their gleam of ancient viridescence!
The Irishman was gripping my arm fiercely; the pain brought me back to mysenses.
"Olaf's right," he gasped. "This is hell! I'm sick." And he was, franklyand without restraint. Lugur and his others awakened from their nightmare;piled into the coria, wheeled, raced away.
"On!" said Rador thickly. "Two perils have we passed— the Silent Oneswatch over us!"
Soon we were again among the familiar and so unfamiliar moss giants. I knewwhat I had seen and this time Larry could not call me— superstitious.In the jungles of Borneo I had examined that other swiftly developing funguswhich wreaks the vengeance of some of the hill tribes upon those who stealtheir women; gripping with its microscopic hooks into the flesh; sendingquick, tiny rootlets through the skin down into the capillaries, suckinglife and thriving and never to be torn away until the living thing it clingsto has been sapped dry. Here was but another of the species in which thedevelopment's rate was incredibly accelerated. Some of this I tried to explainto O'Keefe as we sped along, reassuring him.
"But they turned to moss before our eyes!" he said.
Again I explained, patiently. But he seemed to derive no comfort at all frommy assurances that the phenomena were entirely natural and, aside from theirmore terrifying aspect, of peculiar interest to the botanist.
"I know," was all he would say. "But suppose one of those things had burstwhile we were going through— God!"
I was wondering how I could with comparative safety study the fungus whenRador stopped; in front of us was again the road ribbon.
"Now is all danger passed," he said. "The way lies open and Lugur hasfled——"
There was a flash from the road. It passed me like a little lariat of light.It struck Larry squarely between the eyes, spread over his face and drewitself within!
"Down!" cried Rador, and hurled me to the ground. My head struck sharply;I felt myself grow faint; Olaf fell beside me; I saw the green dwarf drawdown the O'Keefe; he collapsed limply, face still, eyes staring. Ashout— and from the roadway poured a host of Lugur's men; I could hearLugur bellowing.
There came a rush of little feet; soft, fragrant draperies brushed my face;dimly I watched Lakla bend over the Irishman.
She straightened— her arms swept out and the writhing vine, with itstendrilled heads of ruby bloom, five flames of misty incandescence, leapedinto the faces of the soldiers now close upon us. It darted at their throats,striking, coiling, and striking again; coiling and uncoiling with incrediblerapidity and flying from leverage points of throats, of faces, of breastslike a spring endowed with consciousness, volition and hatred— and thoseit struck stood rigid as stone with faces masks of inhuman fear and anguish;and those still unstricken fled.
Another rush of feet— and down upon Lugur's forces poured the frog-men,their booming giant leading, thrusting with their lances, tearing and rendingwith talons and fangs and spurs.
Against that onslaught the dwarfs could not stand. They raced for the shells;I heard Lugur shouting, menacingly— and then Lakla's voice, pealing likea golden bugle of wrath.
"Go, Lugur!" she cried. "Go— that you and Yolara and your Shining Onemay die together! Death for you, Lugur— death for you all! RememberLugur— death!"
There was a great noise within my head— no matter, Lakla was here— Laklahere— but too late— Lugur had outplayed us; moss death nor dragonworm had frightened him away— he had crept back to trap us— Laklahad come too late— Larry was dead— Larry! But I had heard no bansheewailing— and Larry had said he could not die without that warning— no,Larry was not dead. So ran the turbulent current of my mind.
A horny arm lifted me; two enormous, oddly gentle saucer eyes were staringinto mine; my head rolled; I caught a glimpse of the Golden Girl kneelingbeside the O'Keefe.
The noise in my head grew thunderous— was carrying me away on itsthunder— swept me into soft, blind darkness.
CHAPTER XXIV
The Crimson Sea
I was in the heart of a rose pearl, swinging, swinging; no, I was in a rosydawn cloud, pendulous in space. Consciousness flooded me, in reality I wasin the arms of one of the man frogs, carrying me as though I were a babe,and we were passing through some place suffused with glow enough like heartof pearl or dawn cloud to justify my awakening vagaries.
Just ahead walked Lakla in earnest talk with Rador, and content enough wasI for a time to watch her. She had thrown off the metallic robes; her thickbraids of golden brown hair with their flame glints of bronze were twinedin a high coronal meshed in silken net of green; little clustering curlsescaped from it, clinging to the nape of the proud white neck, shyly kissingit. From her shoulders fell a loose, sleeveless garment of shimmering greenbelted with a high golden girdle; skirt folds dropping barely below the knees.
She had cast aside her buskins, too, and the slender, high-arched feet weresandalled. Between the buckled edges of her kirtle I caught gleams of translucentivory as exquisitely moulded, as delectably rounded, as those revealed sonaively beneath the hem.
Something was knocking at the doors of my consciousness— some tragicthing. What was it? Larry! Where was Larry? I remembered; raised my headabruptly; saw at my side another frog-man carrying O'Keefe, and behind him,Olaf, step instinct with grief, following like some faithful, wistful dogwho has lost a loved master. Upon my movement the monster bearing me halted,looked down inquiringly, uttered a deep, booming note that held the qualityof interrogation.
Lakla turned; the clear, golden eyes were sorrowful, the sweet mouth drooping;but her loveliness, her gentleness, that undefinable synthesis of all hertender self that seemed always to circle her with an atmosphere of lucidnormality, lulled my panic.
"Drink this," she commanded, holding a small vial to my lips.
Its contents were aromatic, unfamiliar but astonishingly effective, for assoon as they passed my lips I felt a surge of strength; consciousness wasrestored.
"Larry!" I cried. "Is he dead?"
Lakla shook her head; her eyes were troubled.
"No," she said; "but he is like one dead— and yet unlike——"
"Put me down," I demanded of my bearer.
He tightened his hold; round eyes upon the Golden Girl. She spoke— insonorous, reverberating monosyllables— and I was set upon my feet; Ileaped to the side of the Irishman. He lay limp, with a disquieting, abnormalsequacity, as though every muscle were utterly flaccid; the antithesis ofthe rigor mortis, thank God, but terrifyingly toward the other endof its arc; a syncope I had never known. The flesh was stone cold; the pulsebarely perceptible, long intervalled; the respiration undiscoverable; thepupils of the eyes were enormously dilated; it was as though life had beendrawn from every nerve.
"A light flashed from the road. It struck his face and seemed to sink in,"I said.
"I saw," answered Rador; "but what it was I know not; and I thought I knewall the weapons of our rulers." He glanced at me curiously. "Some talk therehas been that the stranger who came with you, Double Tongue, was making newdeath tools for Lugur," he ended.
Marakinoff! The Russian at work already in this storehouse of devastatingenergies, fashioning the weapons for his plots! The Apocalyptic vision sweptback upon me——
"He is not dead." Lakla's voice was poignant. "He is not dead; and the Threehave wondrous healing. They can restore him if they will— and they will,they will!" For a moment she was silent. "Now their gods help Lugurand Yolara," she whispered; "for come what may, whether the Silent Ones bestrong or weak, if he dies, surely shall I fall upon them and I will slaythose two— yea, though I, too perish!"
"Yolara and Lugur shall both die." Olaf's eyes were burning. "But Lugur ismine to slay."
That pity I had seen before in Lakla's eyes when she looked upon the Norsemanbanished the white wrath from them. She turned, half hurriedly, as thoughto escape his gaze.
"Walk with us," she said to me, "unless you are still weak."
I shook my head, gave a last look at O'Keefe; there was nothing I could do;I stepped beside her. She thrust a white arm into mine protectingly, thewonderfully moulded hand with its long, tapering fingers catching about mywrist; my heart glowed toward her.
"Your medicine is potent, handmaiden," I answered. "And the touch of yourhand would give me strength enough, even had I not drunk it," I added inLarry's best manner.
Her eyes danced, trouble flying.
"Now, that was well spoken for such a man of wisdom as Rador tells me youare," she laughed; and a little pang shot through me. Could not a lover ofscience present a compliment without it always seeming to be as unusual asplucking a damask rose from a cabinet of fossils?
Mustering my philosophy, I smiled back at her. Again I noted that broad,classic brow, with the little tendrils of shining bronze caressing it, thetilted, delicate, nut-brown brows that gave a curious touch of innocentdiablerie to the lovely face— flowerlike, pure, high-bred, a touchof roguishness, subtly alluring, sparkling over the maiden Madonnaness thatlay ever like a delicate, luminous suggestion beneath it; the long, black,curling lashes— the tender, rounded, bare left breast——
"I have always liked you," she murmured naively, "since first I saw you inthat place where the Shining One goes forth into your world. And I am gladyou like my medicine as well as that you carry in the black box that youleft behind," she added swiftly.
"How know you of that, Lakla?" I gasped.
"Oft and oft I came to him there, and to you, while you lay sleeping. Howcall you him?" She paused.
"Larry!" I said.
"Larry!" she repeated it excellently. "And you?"
"Goodwin," said Rador.
I bowed quite as though I were being introduced to some charming young ladymet in that old life now seemingly aeons removed.
"Yes— Goodwin," she said. "Oft and oft I came. Sometimes I thought yousaw me. And he— did he not dream of me sometimes?" she askedwistfully.
"He did," I said, "and watched for you." Then amazement grew vocal. "Buthow came you?" I asked.
"By a strange road," she whispered, "to see that all was well withhim— and to look into his heart; for I feared Yolara and her beauty.But I saw that she was not in his heart." A blush burned over her, turningeven the little bare breast rosy. "It is a strange road," she went on hurriedly."Many times have I followed it and watched the Shining One bear back itsprey to the blue pool; seen the woman he seeks"— she made a quickgesture toward Olaf— "and a babe cast from her arms in the last pangof her mother love; seen another woman throw herself into the Shining One'sembrace to save a man she loved; and I could not help!" Her voice grew deep,thrilled. "The friend, it comes to me, who drew you here, Goodwin!"
She was silent, walking as one who sees visions and listens to voices unheardby others. Rador made a warning gesture; I crowded back my questions, glancedabout me. We were passing over a smooth strand, hard packed as some beachof long-thrust-back ocean. It was like crushed garnets, each grain staineddeep red, faintly sparkling. On each side were distances, the floor stretchingaway into them bare of vegetation— stretching on and on into infinitudesof rosy mist, even as did the space above.
Flanking and behind us marched the giant batrachians, fivescore of them atleast, black scale and crimson scale lustrous and gleaming in the rosaceousradiance; saucer eyes shining circles of phosphorescence green, purple, red;spurs clicking as they crouched along with a gait at once grotesque andformidable.
Ahead the mist deepened into a ruddier glow; through it a long, dark linebegan to appear— the mouth I thought of the caverned space through whichwe were going; it was just before us; over us— we stood bathed in a floodof rubescence!
A sea stretched before us— a crimson sea, gleaming like that lost lacquerof royal coral and the Flame Dragon's blood which Fu S'cze set upon the bowerhe built for his stolen sun maiden— that going toward it she might thinkit the sun itself rising over the summer seas. Unmoved by wave or ripple,it was placid as some deep woodland pool when night rushes up over the world.
It seemed molten— or as though some hand great enough to rock earth haddistilled here from conflagrations of autumn sunsets their flaming essences.
A fish broke through, large as a shark, blunt-headed, flashing bronze, ridgedand mailed as though with serrate plates of armour. It leaped high, shakingfrom it a sparkling spray of rubies; dropped and shot up a geyser of fierygems.
Across my line of vision, moving stately over the sea, floated a half globe,luminous, diaphanous, its iridescence melting into turquoise, thence to amethyst,to orange, to scarlet shot with rose, to vermilion, a translucent green,thence back into the iridescence; behind it four others, and the least ofthem ten feet in diameter, and the largest no less than thirty. They driftedpast like bubbles blown from froth of rainbows by pipes in mouths of Titans'young. Then from the base of one arose a tangle of shimmering strands, long,slender whiplashes that played about and sank slowly again beneath the crimsonsurface.
I gasped— for the fish had been a ganoid— that ancient, armouredform that was perhaps the most intelligent of all life on our planet duringthe Devonian era, but which for age upon age had vanished, save for its fossilsheld in the embrace of the stone that once was their soft bottom beds; andthe half-globes were Medusae, jelly-fish— but of a size, luminosity,and colour unheard of.
Now Lakla cupped her mouth with pink palms and sent a clarion note ringingout. The ledge on which we stood continued a few hundred feet before us,falling abruptly, though from no great height to the Crimson Sea; at rightand left it extended in a long semicircle. Turning to the right whence shehad sent her call, I saw rising a mile or more away, veiled lightly by thehaze, a rainbow, a gigantic prismatic arch, flattened, I thought, by somequality of the strange atmosphere. It sprang from the ruddy strand, leapedthe crimson tide, and dropped three miles away upon a precipitous, jaggedupthrust of rock frowning black from the lacquered depths.
And surmounting a higher ledge beyond this upthrust a huge dome of dull gold,Cyclopean, striking eyes and mind with something unhumanly alien, baffling;sending the mind groping, as though across the deserts of space, from somefar-flung star, should fall upon us linked sounds, coherent certainly, meaningfulsurely, vaguely familiar— yet never to be translated into any symbolor thought of our own particular planet.
The sea of crimson lacquer, with its floating moons of luminous colour— thisbow of prismed stone leaping to the weird isle crowned by the anomalous,aureate— excrescence— the half human batrachians— the elflandthrough which we had passed, with all its hidden wonders and terrors— Ifelt the foundations of my cherished knowledge shaking. Was this all a dream?Was this body of mine lying somewhere, fighting a fevered death, and allthese but images floating through the breaking chambers of my brain? My kneesshook; involuntarily I groaned.
Lakla turned, looked at me anxiously, slipped a soft arm behind me, heldme till the vertigo passed.
"Patience," she said. "The bearers come. Soon you shall rest."
I looked; down toward us from the bow's end were leaping swiftly anotherscore of the frog-men. Some bore litters, high, handled, not unlikepalanquins——
"Asgard!" Olaf stood beside me, eyes burning, pointing to the arch. "BifrostBridge, sharp as sword edge, over which souls go to Valhalla, Andshe— she is a Valkyr— a sword maiden, Ja!"
I gripped the Norseman's hand. It was hot, and a pang of remorse shot throughme. If this place had so shaken me, how must it have shaken Olaf? It waswith relief that I watched him, at Lakla's gentle command, drop into oneof the litters and lie back, eyes closed, as two of the monsters raised itsyoke to their scaled shoulders. Nor was it without further relief that Imyself lay back on the soft velvety cushions of another.
The cavalcade began to move. Lakla had ordered O'Keefe placed beside her,and she sat, knees crossed Orient fashion, leaning over the pale head onher lap, the white, tapering fingers straying fondly through his hair.
Presently I saw her reach up, slowly unwind the coronal of her tresses, shakethem loose, and let them fall like a veil over her and him.
Her head bent low; I heard a soft sobbing— I turned away my gaze, lornenough in my own heart, God knew!
CHAPTER XXV
The Three Silent Ones
The arch was closer— and in my awe I forgot for the moment Larry andaught else. For this was no rainbow, no thing born of light and mist, noBifrost Bridge of myth— no! It was a flying arch of stone, stained withflares of Tyrian purples, of royal scarlets, of blues dark as the Gulf Stream'sribbon, sapphires soft as midday May skies, splashes of chromes andgreens— a palette of giantry, a bridge of wizardry; a hundred, nay, athousand, times greater than that of Utah which the Navaho call Non-negozcheand worship, as well they may, as a god, and which is itself a rainbow ineternal rock.
It sprang from the ledge and winged its prodigious length in one low arcover the sea's crimson breast, as though in some ancient paroxysm of earthit had been hurled molten, crystallizing into that stupendous span and stillflaming with the fires that had moulded it.
Closer we came and closer, while I watched spellbound; now we were at itshead, and the litter-bearers swept upon it. All of five hundred feet wideit was, surface smooth as a city road, sides low walled, curving inward asthough in the jetting-out of its making the edges of the plastic rock hadcurled.
On and on we sped; the high thrusting precipices upon which the bridge'sfar end rested, frowned close; the enigmatic, dully shining dome loomed evergreater. Now we had reached that end; were passing over a smooth plaza whoselevel floor was enclosed, save for a rift in front of us, by the fanged topsof the black cliffs.
From this rift stretched another span, half a mile long, perhaps, wideningat its centre into a broad platform, continuing straight to two massive gatesset within the face of the second cliff wall like panels, and of the samedull gold as the dome rising high beyond. And this smaller arch leaped apit, an abyss, of which the outer precipices were the rim holding back fromthe pit the red flood.
We were rapidly approaching; now upon the platform; my bearers were stridingclosely along the side; I leaned far out— a giddiness seized me! I gazeddown into depth upon vertiginous depth; an abyss indeed— an abyss droppingto world's base like that in which the Babylonians believed writhed Talaat,the serpent mother of Chaos; a pit that struck down into earth's heart itself.
Now, what was that— distance upon unfathomable distance below? A stupendousglowing like the green fire of life itself. What was it like? I had it! Itwas like the corona of the sun in eclipse— that burgeoning that makesof our luminary when moon veils it an incredible blossoming of splendoursin the black heavens.
And strangely, strangely, it was like the Dweller's beauty when with itsdazzling spirallings and writhings it raced amid its storm of crystal bellsounds!
The abyss was behind us; we had paused at the golden portals; they swunginward. A wide corridor filled with soft light was before us, and on itsthreshold stood— bizarre, yellow gems gleaming, huge muzzle wide in whatwas evidently meant for a smile of welcome— the woman frog of the MoonPool wall.
Lakla raised her head; swept back the silken tent of her hair and gazed atme with eyes misty from weeping. The frog-woman crept to her side; gazeddown upon Larry; spoke— spoke— to the Golden Girl in a swiftstream of the sonorous, reverberant monosyllables; and Lakla answered herin kind. The webbed digits swept over O'Keefe's face, felt at his heart;she shook her head and moved ahead of us up the passage.
Still borne in the litters we went on, winding, ascending until at last theywere set down in a great hall carpeted with soft fragrant rushes and intowhich from high narrow slits streamed the crimson light from without.
I jumped over to Larry; there had been no change in his condition; stillthe terrifying limpness, the slow, infrequent pulsation. Rador and Olaf— andthe fever now seemed to be gone from him— came and stood beside me, silent.
"I go to the Three," said Lakla. "Wait you here." She passed through acurtaining; then as swiftly as she had gone she returned through the hangings,tresses braided, a swathing of golden gauze about her.
"Rador," she said, "bear you Larry— for into your heart the Silent Oneswould look. And fear nothing," she added at the green dwarfs disconcerted,almost fearful start.
Rador bowed, was thrust aside by Olaf.
"No," said the Norseman; "I will carry him."
He lifted Larry like a child against his broad breast. The dwarf glancedquickly at Lakla; she nodded.
"Come!" she commanded, and held aside the folds.
Of that journey I have few memories. I only know that we went through corridorupon corridor; successions of vast halls and chambers, some carpeted withthe rushes, others with rugs into which the feet sank as into deep, softmeadows; spaces illumined by the rubrous light, and spaces in which softerlights held sway.
We paused before a slab of the same crimson stone as that the green dwarfhad called the portal, and upon its polished surface weaved the same unnameablesymbols. The Golden Girl pressed upon its side; it slipped softly back; atorrent of opalescence gushed out of the opening— and as one in a dreamI entered.
We were, I knew, just under the dome; but for the moment, caught in the floodof radiance, I could see nothing. It was like being held within a fireopal— so brilliant, so flashing, was it. I closed my eyes, opened them;the lambency cascaded from the vast curves of the globular walls; in frontof me was a long, narrow opening in them, through which, far away, I couldsee the end of the wizards' bridge and the ledged mouth of the cavern throughwhich we had come; against the light from within beat the crimson light fromwithout— and was checked as though by a barrier.
I felt Lakla's touch; turned.
A hundred paces away was a dais, its rim raised a yard above the floor. Fromthe edge of this rim streamed upward a steady, coruscating mist of theopalescence, veined even as was that of the Dweller's shining core and shotwith milky shadows like curdled moonlight; up it stretched like a wall.
Over it, from it, down upon me, gazed three faces— two clearly male,one a woman's. At the first I thought them statues, and then the eyes ofthem gave the lie to me; for the eyes were alive, terribly, and if I couldadmit the word— supernaturally— alive.
They were thrice the size of the human eye and triangular, the apex of theangle upward; black as jet, pupilless, filled with tiny, leaping red flames.
Over them were foreheads, not as ours— high and broad and visored; theirsides drawn forward into a vertical ridge, a prominence, an upright wedge,somewhat like the visored heads of a few of the great lizards— and theheads, long, narrowing at the back, were fully twice the size of man-kind's!
Upon the brows were caps— and with a fearful certainty I knew that theywere not caps— long, thick strands of gleaming yellow, featheredscales thin as sequins! Sharp, curving noses like the beaks of the giantcondors; mouths thin, austere; long, powerful, pointed chins;the— flesh— of the faces white as the whitest marble; andwreathing up to them, covering all their bodies, the shimmering, curdled,misty fires of opalescence!
Olaf stood rigid; my own heart leaped wildly. What— what were these beings?
I forced myself to look again— and from their gaze streamed a currentof reassurance, of good will— nay, of intense spiritual strength. I sawthat they were not fierce, not ruthless, not inhuman, despite their strangeness;no, they were kindly; in some unmistakable way, benign and sorrowful— sosorrowful! I straightened, gazed back at them fearlessly. Olaf drew a deepbreath, gazed steadily too, the hardness, the despair wiped from his face.
Now Lakla drew closer to the dais; the three pairs of eyes searched hers,the woman's with an ineffable tenderness; some message seemed to pass betweenthe Three and the Golden Girl. She bowed low, turned to the Norseman.
"Place Larry there," she said softly— "there at the feet of the SilentOnes."
She pointed into the radiant mist; Olaf started, hesitated, stared from Laklato the Three, searched for a moment their eyes— and something like asmile drifted through them. He stepped forward, lifted O'Keefe, set him squarelywithin the covering light. It wavered, rolled upward, swirled about the body,steadied again— and within it there was no sign of Larry!
Again the mist wavered, shook, and seemed to climb higher, hiding the chins,the beaked noses, the brows of that incredible Trinity— but before itceased to climb, I thought the yellow feathered heads bent; sensed a movementas though they lifted something.
The mist fell; the eyes gleamed out again, inscrutable.
And groping out of the radiance, pausing at the verge of the dais, leapingdown from it, came Larry, laughing, filled with life, blinking as one whodraws from darkness into sunshine. He saw Lakla, sprang to her, gripped herin his arms.
"Lakla!" he cried. "Mavourneen!" She slipped from his embrace, blushing,glancing at the Three shyly, half-fearfully. And again I saw the tendernesscreep into the inky, flame-shot orbs of the woman being; and a tendernessin the others too— as though they regarded some well-beloved child.
"You lay in the arms of Death, Larry," she said. "And the Silent Ones drewyou from him. Do homage to the Silent Ones, Larry, for they are good andthey are mighty!"
She turned his head with one of the long, white hands— and he lookedinto the faces of the Three; looked long, was shaken even as had been Olafand myself; was swept by that same wave of power and of— of— whatcan I call it?— holiness that streamed from them.
Then for the first time I saw real awe mount into his face. Another momenthe stared— and dropped upon one knee and bowed his head before them aswould a worshipper before the shrine of his saint. And— I am not ashamedto tell it— I joined him; and with us knelt Lakla and Olaf and Rador.
The mist of fiery opal swirled up about the Three; hid them.
And with a long, deep, joyous sigh Lakla took Larry's hand, drew him to hisfeet, and silently we followed them out of that hall of wonder.
But why, in going, did the thought come to me that from where the Three satthroned they ever watched the cavern mouth that was the door into their abode;and looked down ever into the unfathomable depth in which glowed and pulsedthat mystic flower, colossal, awesome, of green flame that had seemed tome fire of life itself?
CHAPTER XXVI
The Wooing of Lakla
I had slept soundly and dreamlessly; I wakened quietly in the great chamberinto which Rador had ushered O'Keefe and myself after that culminating experienceof crowded, nerve-racking hours— the facing of the Three.
Now, lying gazing upward at the high-vaulted ceiling, I heard Larry's voice:
"They look like birds." Evidently he was thinking of the Three; asilence— then: "Yes, they look like birds— and they look,and it's meaning no disrespect to them I am at all, they look likelizards"— and another silence— "they look like some sort ofgods, and, by the good sword-arm of Brian Boru, they look human, too! Andit's none of them they are either, so what— what the— whatthe sainted St. Bridget are they?" Another short silence, and then in a toneof awed and absolute conviction: "That's it, sure! That's what they are— itall hangs in— they couldn't be anything else——"
He gave a whoop; a pillow shot over and caught me across the head.
"Wake up!" shouted Larry. "Wake up, ye seething caldron of fossilizedsuperstitions! Wake up, ye bogy-haunted man of scientific unwisdom!"
Under pillow and insults I bounced to my feet, filled for a moment with quitereal wrath; he lay back, roaring with laughter, and my anger was swept away.
"Doc," he said, very seriously, after this, "I know who the Three are!"
"Yes?" I queried, with studied sarcasm.
"Yes?" he mimicked. "Yes! Ye— ye" He paused under the menace of my look,grinned. "Yes, I know," he continued. "They're of the Tuatha De, the oldones, the great people of Ireland, that's who they are!"
I knew, of course, of the Tuatha De Danann, the tribes of the god Danu, thehalf-legendary, half-historical clan who found their home in Erin some fourthousand years before the Christian era, and who have left so deep an impressupon the Celtic mind and its myths.
"Yes," said Larry again, "the Tuatha De— the Ancient Ones who hadspells that could compel Mananan, who is the spirit of all the seas, an'Keithor, who is the god of all green living things, an' even Hesus, the unseengod, whose pulse is the pulse of all the firmament; yes, an' Orchil too,who sits within the earth an' weaves with the shuttle of mystery and herthree looms of birth an' life an' death— even Orchil would weave as theycommanded!"
He was silent— then:
"They are of them— the mighty ones— why else would I have bent myknee to them as I would have to the spirit of my dead mother? Why else wouldLakla, whose gold-brown hair is the hair of Eilidh the Fair, whose mouthis the sweet mouth of Deirdre, an' whose soul walked with mine ages agoneamong the fragrant green myrtle of Erin, serve them?" he whispered, eyesfull of dream.
"Have you any idea how they got here?" I asked, not unreasonably.
"I haven't thought about that," he replied somewhat testily. "But at once,me excellent man o' wisdom, a number occur to me. One of them is that thislittle party of three might have stopped here on their way to Ireland, an'for good reasons of their own decided to stay a while; an' another is thatthey might have come here afterward, havin' got wind of what those rats outthere were contemplatin', and have stayed on the job till the time was ripeto save Ireland from 'em; the rest of the world, too, of course," he addedmagnanimously, "but Ireland in particular. And do any of those reasons appealto ye?"
I shook my head.
"Well, what do you think?" he asked wearily.
"I think," I said cautiously, "that we face an evolution of highly intelligentbeings from ancestral sources radically removed from those through whichmankind ascended. These half-human, highly developed batrachians they callthe Akka prove that evolution in these caverned spaces has certainlypursued one different path than on earth. The Englishman, Wells, wrote animaginative and very entertaining book concerning an invasion of earth byMartians, and he made his Martians enormously specialized cuttlefish. Therewas nothing inherently improbable in Wells' choice. Man is the ruling animalof earth today solely by reason of a series of accidents; under another seriesspiders or ants, or even elephants, could have become the dominant race.
"I think," I said, even more cautiously, "that the race to which the Threebelong never appeared on earth's surface; that their development took placehere, unhindered through aeons. And if this be true, the structure of theirbrains, and therefore all their reactions, must be different from ours. Hencetheir knowledge and command of energies unfamiliar to us— and hence alsothe question whether they may not have an entirely different sense of values,of justice— and that is rather terrifying," I concluded.
Larry shook his head.
"That last sort of knocks your argument, Doc," he said. "They had sense ofjustice enough to help me out— and certainly they know love— forI saw the way they looked at Lakla; and sorrow— for there was no mistakingthat in their faces.
"No," he went on. "I hold to my own idea. They're of the Old People. Thelittle leprechaun knew his way here, an' I'll bet it was they who sent theword. An' if the O'Keefe banshee comes here— which save the mark!— I'llbet she'll drop in on the Silent Ones for a social visit before she an' herclan get busy. Well, it'll make her feel more at home, the good old body.No, Doc, no," he concluded, "I'm right; it all fits in too well to be wrong."
I made a last despairing attempt.
"Is there anything anywhere in Ireland that would indicate that the TuathaDe ever looked like the Three?" I asked— and again I had spoken mostunfortunately.
"Is there?" he shouted. "Is there? By the kilt of Cormack Maccormack, I'mglad ye reminded me. It was worryin' me a little meself. There was Daghda,who could put on the head of a great boar an' the body of a giant fish andcleave the waves an' tear to pieces the birlins of any who came against Erin;an' there was Rinn——"
How many more of the metamorphoses of the Old People I might have heard,I do not know, for the curtains parted and in walked Rador.
"You have rested well," he smiled, "I can see. The handmaiden bade me callyou. You are to eat with her in her garden."
Down long corridors we trod and out upon a gardened terrace as beautifulas any of those of Yolara's city; bowered, blossoming, fragrant, set highupon the cliffs beside the domed castle. A table, as of milky jade, was spreadat one corner, but the Golden Girl was not there. A little path ran on andup, hemmed in by the mass of verdure. I looked at it longingly; Rador sawthe glance, interpreted it, and led me up the stepped, sharp slope into arock embrasure.
Here I was above the foliage, and everywhere the view was clear. Below mestretched the incredible bridge, with the frog people hurrying back and forthupon it. A pinnacle at my side hid the abyss. My eyes followed the cavernledge. Above it the rock rose bare, but at the ends of the semicircular stranda luxuriant vegetation began, stretching from the crimson shores back intofar distances. Of browns and reds and yellows, like an autumn forest, wasthe foliage, with here and there patches of dark-green, as of conifers. Fivemiles or more, on each side, the forests swept, and then were lost to sightin the haze.
I turned and faced an immensity of crimson waters, unbroken, a true sea,if ever there was one. A breeze blew— the first real wind I had encounteredin the hidden places; under it the surface, that had been as molten lacquer,rippled and dimpled. Little waves broke with a spray of rose-pearls and rubies.The giant Medusae drifted— stately, luminous kaleidoscopic elfin moons.
Far down, peeping around a jutting tower of the cliff, I saw dipping withthe motion of the waves a floating garden. The flowers, too, wereluminous— indeed sparkling— gleaming brilliants of scarlet and vermilionslighter than the flood on which they lay, mauves and odd shades of reddish-blue.They gleamed and shone like a little lake of jewels.
Rador broke in upon my musings.
"Lakla comes! Let us go down."
It was a shy Lakla who came slowly around the end of the path and, blushingfuriously, held her hands out to Larry. And the Irishman took them, placedthem over his heart, kissed them with a tenderness that had been lackingin the half-mocking, half-fierce caresses he had given the priestess. Sheblushed deeper, holding out the tapering fingers— then pressed them toher own heart.
"I like the touch of your lips, Larry," she whispered. "They warm mehere"— she pressed her heart again— "and they send little sparklesof light through me." Her brows tilted perplexedly, accenting the nuanceof diablerie, delicate and fascinating, that they cast upon the flower face.
"Do you?" whispered the O'Keefe fervently. "Do you, Lakla?" He bent towardher. She caught the amused glance of Rador; drew herself aside half-haughtily.
"Rador," she said, "is it not time that you and the strong one, Olaf, weresetting forth?"
"Truly it is, handmaiden," he answered respectfully enough— yet witha current of laughter under his words. "But as you know the strong one, Olaf,wished to see his friends here before we were gone— and he comes evennow," he added, glancing down the pathway, along which came striding theNorseman.
As he faced us I saw that a transformation had been wrought in him. Gonewas the pitiful seeking, and gone too the just as pitiful hope. The set facesoftened as he looked at the Golden Girl and bowed low to her. He thrusta hand to O'Keefe and to me.
"There is to be battle," he said. "I go with Rador to call the armies ofthese frog people. As for me— Lakla has spoken. There is no hopefor— for mine Helma in life, but there is hope that we destroythe Shining Devil and give mine Helma peace. And with that I am wellcontent, ja! Well content!" He gripped our hands again. "Wewill fight!" he muttered. "Ja! And I will have vengeance!" The sternnessreturned; and with a salute Rador and he were gone.
Two great tears rolled from the golden eyes of Lakla.
"Not even the Silent Ones can heal those the Shining One has taken," shesaid. "He asked me— and it was better that I tell him. It is part ofthe Three's— punishment— but of that you will soon learn,"she went on hurriedly. "Ask me no questions now of the Silent Ones. I thoughtit better for Olaf to go with Rador, to busy himself, to give his mind otherthan sorrow upon which to feed."
Up the path came five of the frog-women, bearing platters and ewers. Theirbracelets and anklets of jewels were tinkling; their middles covered withshort kirtles of woven cloth studded with the sparkling ornaments.
And here let me say that if I have given the impression that the Akkaare simply magnified frogs, I regret it. Froglike they are, and hence myphrase for them— but as unlike the frog, as we know it, as man is unlikethe chimpanzee. Springing, I hazard, from the stegocephalia, the ancestorof the frogs, these batrachians followed a different line of evolution andacquired the upright position just as man did his from the four-footed folk.
The great staring eyes, the shape of the muzzle were froglike, but the highlydeveloped brain had set upon the head and shape of it vital differences.The forehead, for instance, was not low, flat, and retreating— its frontalarch was well defined. The head was, in a sense, shapely, and with the femalesthe great horny carapace that stood over it like a fantastic helmet was muchmodified, as were the spurs that were so formidable in the male; colourationwas different also. The torso was upright; the legs a little bent, givingthem their crouching gait— but I wander from my subject.[7]
[7 The Akka are viviparous. The female produces progenyat five-year intervals, never more than two at a time. They are monogamous,like certain of our own Ranidae. Pending my monograph upon what littleI had time to learn of their interesting habits and customs, the curiouswill find instruction and entertainment in Brandes and Schvenichen'sBrutpfleige der Schwanzlosen Bat rachier, p. 395; and Lilian V. Sampson'sUnusual Modes of Breeding among Anura, Amer. Nat. xxxiv., 1900.—W. T. G.] 
They set their burdens down. Larry looked at them with interest.
"You surely have those things well trained, Lakla," he said.
"Things!" The handmaiden arose, eyes flashing with indignation. "Youcall my Akka things!"
"Well," said Larry, a bit taken aback, "what do you call them?"
"My Akka are a people," she retorted. "As much a people asyour race or mine. They are good and loyal, and they have speech and arts,and they slay not, save for food or to protect themselves. And I think thembeautiful, Larry, beautiful!" She stamped her foot. "And you callthem— things!"
Beautiful! These? Yet, after all, they were, in their grotesque fashion.And to Lakla, surrounded by them, from babyhood, they were not strange, atall. Why shouldn't she think them beautiful? The same thought must have struckO'Keefe, for he flushed guiltily.
"I think them beautiful, too, Lakla," he said remorsefully. "It's my notknowing your tongue too well that traps me. Truly, I think thembeautiful— I'd tell them so, if I knew their talk."
Lakla dimpled, laughed— spoke to the attendants in that strange speechthat was unquestionably a language; they bridled, looked at O'Keefe withfantastic coquetry, clacked and boomed softly among themselves.
"They say they like you better than the men of Muria," laughed Lakla.
"Did I ever think I'd be swapping compliments with lady frogs!" he murmuredto me. "Buck up, Larry— keep your eyes on the captive Irish princess!"he muttered to himself.
"Rador goes to meet one of the ladala who is slipping through withnews," said the Golden Girl as we addressed ourselves to the food. "Then,with Nak, he and Olaf go to muster the Akka— for there will bebattle, and we must prepare. Nak," she added, "is he who went before me whenyou were dancing with Yolara, Larry." She stole a swift, mischievous glanceat him. "He is headman of all the Akka."
"Just what forces can we muster against them when they come, darlin'?" saidLarry.
"Darlin'?"— the Golden Girl had caught the caress of the word— "what'sthat?"
"It's a little word that means Lakla," he answered. "It does— that is,when I say it; when you say it, then it means Larry."
"I like that word," mused Lakla.
"You can even say Larry darlin'!" suggested O'Keefe.
"Larry darlin'!" said Lakla. "When they come we shall have first of all myAkka—— "
"Can they fight, mavourneen?" interrupted Larry.
"Can they fight! My Akka!" Again her eyes flashed. "They will fightto the last of them— with the spears that give the swift rotting, covered,as they are, with the jelly of those Saddu there——" Shepointed through a rift in the foliage across which, on the surface of thesea, was floating one of the moon globes— and now I know why Rador hadwarned Larry against a plunge there. "With spears and clubs and with teethand nails and spurs— they are a strong and brave people, Larry— darlin',and though they hurl the Keth at them, it is slow to work upon them,and they slay even while they are passing into the nothingness!"
"And have we none of the Keth?" he asked.
"No"— she shook her head— "none of their weapons have we here, althoughit was— it was the Ancient Ones who shaped them."
"But the Three are of the Ancient Ones?" I cried. "Surely they cantell——"
"No," she said slowly. "No— there is something you must know— andsoon; and then the Silent Ones say you will understand. You, especially,Goodwin, who worship wisdom."
"Then," said Larry, "we have the Akka; and we have the four men ofus, and among us three guns and about a hundred cartridges— an'— an'the power of the Three— but what about the Shining One,Fireworks——"
"I do not know." Again the indecision that had been in her eyes when Yolarahad launched her defiance crept back. "The Shining One is strong— andhe has his— slaves!"
"Well, we'd better get busy good and quick!" the O'Keefe's voice rang. ButLakla, for some reason of her own, would pursue the matter no further. Thetrouble fled from her eyes— they danced.
"Larry darlin'?" she murmured. "I like the touch of your lips——"
"You do?" he whispered, all thought flying of anything but the beautiful,provocative face so close to his. "Then, acushla, you're goin' toget acquainted with 'em! Turn your head, Doc!" he said.
And I turned it. There was quite a long silence, broken by an interested,soft outburst of gentle boomings from the serving frog-maids. I stole a glancebehind me. Lakla's head lay on the Irishman's shoulder, the golden eyes mistysun-pools of love and adoration; and the O'Keefe, a new look of power andstrength upon his clear-cut features, was gazing down into them with thatlook which rises only from the heart touched for the first time with thattrue, all-powerful love, which is the pulse of the universe itself, the realmusic of the spheres of which Plato dreamed, the love that is stronger thandeath itself, immortal as the high gods and the true soul of all that mysterywe call life.
Then Lakla raised her hands, pressed down Larry's head, kissed him betweenthe eyes, drew herself with a trembling little laugh from his embrace.
"The future Mrs. Larry O'Keefe, Goodwin," said Larry to me a little unsteadily.
I took their hands— and Lakla kissed me!
She turned to the booming— smiling— frog-maids; gave them some command,for they filed away down the path. Suddenly I felt, well, a little superfluous.
"If you don't mind," I said, "I think I'll go up the path there again andlook about."
But they were so engrossed with each other that they did not even hearme— so I walked away, up to the embrasure where Rador had taken me. Themovement of the batrachians over the bridge had ceased. Dimly at the farend I could see the cluster of the garrison. My thoughts flew back to Laklaand to Larry.
What was to be the end?
If we won, if we were able to pass from this place, could she live in ourworld? A product of these caverns with their atmosphere and light that seemedin some subtle way to be both food and drink— how would she react tothe unfamiliar foods and air and light of outer earth? Further, here so faras I was able to discover, there were no malignant bacilli— what immunitycould Lakla have then to those microscopic evils without, which only longages of sickness and death have bought for us a modicum of protection? Ibegan to be oppressed. Surely they had been long enough by themselves. Iwent down the path.
I heard Larry.
"It's a green land, mavourneen. And the sea rocks and dimples aroundit— blue as the heavens, green as the isle itself, and foam horses tosstheir white manes, and the great clean winds blow over it, and the sun shinesdown on it like your eyes, acushla—— "
"And are you a king of Ireland, Larry darlin'?" Thus Lakla——
But enough!
At last we turned to go— and around the corner of the path I caught anotherglimpse of what I have called the lake of jewels. I pointed to it.
"Those are lovely flowers, Lakla," I said. "I have never seen anything likethem in the place from whence we come."
She followed my pointing finger— laughed.
"Come," she said, "let me show you them."
She ran down an intersecting way, we following; came out of it upon a littleledge close to the brink, three feet or more I suppose about it. The GoldenGirl's voice rang out in a high-pitched, tremulous, throbbing call.
The lake of jewels stirred as though a breeze had passed over it; stirred,shook, and then began to move swiftly, a shimmering torrent of shining flowersdown upon us! She called again, the movement became more rapid; the gem bloomsstreamed closer— closer, wavering, shifting, winding— at our veryfeet. Above them hovered a little radiant mist. The Golden Girl leaned over;called softly, and up from the sparkling mass shot a green vine whose headswere five flowers of flaming ruby— shot up, flew into her hand and coiledabout the white arm, its quintette of lambent blossoms— regarding us!
It was the thing Lakla had called the Yekta; that with which she hadthreatened the priestess; the thing that carried the dreadful death— andthe Golden Girl was handling it like a rose!
Larry swore— I looked at the thing more closely. It was a hydroid, adevelopment of that strange animal-vegetable that, sometimes almost microscopic,waves in the sea depths like a cluster of flowers paralyzing its prey withthe mysterious force that dwells in its blossom heads![8]
[8 The Yekta of the Crimson Sea, are as extraordinarydevelopments of hydroid forms as the giant Medusae, of which, of course,they are not too remote cousins. The closest resemblances to them in outerwater forms are among the Gymnoblastic Hydroids, notably Clavetellaprolifera, a most interesting ambulatory form of six tentacles. Almostevery bather in Southern waters, Northern too, knows the pain that contactwith certain "jelly fish" produces. The Yekta's development was prodigiousand, to us, monstrous. It secretes in its five heads an almost incrediblyswiftly acting poison which I suspect, for I had no chance to verify thetheory, destroys the entire nervous system to the accompaniment of trulyinfernal agony; carrying at the same time the illusion that the torment stretchesthrough infinities of time. Both ether and nitrous oxide gas produce in themajority this sensation of time extension, without of course the pain symptom.What Lakla called the Yekta kiss is I imagine about as close to theorthodox idea of Hell as can be conceived. The secret of her control overthem I had no opportunity of learning in the rush of events that followed.Knowledge of the appalling effects of their touch came, she told me, fromthose few "who had been kissed so lightly" that they recovered. Certainlynothing, not even the Shining One, was dreaded by the Murians as thesewere— W. T. G.] 
"Put it down, Lakla," the distress in O'Keefe's voice was deep. Lakla laughedmischievously, caught the real fear for her in his eyes; opened her hand,gave another faint call— and back it flew to its fellows.
"Why, it wouldn't hurt me, Larry!" she expostulated. "They know me!"
"Put it down!" he repeated hoarsely.
She sighed, gave another sweet, prolonged call. The lake of gems— rubiesand amethysts, mauves and scarlet-tinged blues— wavered and shook evenas it had before— and swept swiftly back to that place whence she haddrawn them!
Then, with Larry and Lakla walking ahead, white arm about his brown neck;the O'Keefe still expostulating, the handmaiden laughing merrily, we passedthrough her bower to the domed castle.
Glancing through a cleft I caught sight again of the far end of the bridge;noted among the clustered figures of its garrison of the frog-men a movement,a flashing of green fire like marshlights on spear tips; wondered idly whatit was, and then, other thoughts crowding in, followed along, head bent,behind the pair who had found in what was Olaf's hell, their true paradise.
CHAPTER XXVII
The Coming of Yolara
"Never was there such a girl!" Thus Larry, dreamily, leaning head in handon one of the wide divans of the chamber where Lakla had left us, pleadingservice to the Silent Ones.
"An', by the faith and the honour of the O'Keefes, an' by my dead mother'ssoul may God do with me as I do by her!" he whispered fervently.
He relapsed into open-eyed dreaming.
I walked about the room, examining it— the first opportunity I had gainedto inspect carefully any of the rooms in the abode of the Three. It wasoctagonal, carpeted with the thick rugs that seemed almost as though wovenof soft mineral wool, faintly shimmering, palest blue. I paced its diagonal;it was fifty yards; the ceiling was arched, and either of pale rose metalor metallic covering; it collected the light from the high, slitted windows,and shed it, diffused, through the room.
Around the octagon ran a low gallery not two feet from the floor, balustradedwith slender pillars, close set; broken at opposite curtained entrances overwhich hung thick, dull-gold curtainings giving the same suggestion of metallicor mineral substance as the rugs. Set within each of the eight sides, abovethe balcony, were colossal slabs of lapis lazuli, inset with graceful butunplaceable designs in scarlet and sapphire blue.
There was the great divan on which mused Larry; two smaller ones, half adozen low seats and chairs carved apparently of ivory and of dull soft gold.
Most curious were tripods, strong, pikelike legs of golden metal four feethigh, holding small circles of the lapis with intaglios of one curious symbolsomewhat resembling the ideographs of the Chinese.
There was no dust— nowhere in these caverned spaces had I found thisconstant companion of ours in the world overhead. My eyes caught a sparklefrom a corner. Pursuing it I found upon one of the low seats a flat, clearcrystal oval, remarkably like a lens. I took it and stepped up on the balcony.Standing on tiptoe I found I commanded from the bottom of a window slit aview of the bridge approach. Scanning it I could see no trace of the garrisonthere, nor of the green spear flashes. I placed the crystal to my eyes— andwith a disconcerting abruptness the cavern mouth leaped before me, apparentlynot a hundred feet away; decidedly the crystal was a very excellentlens— but where were the guards?
I peered closely. Nothing! But now against the aperture I saw a score ormore of tiny, dancing sparks. An optical illusion, I thought, and turnedthe crystal in another direction. There were no sparklings there. I turnedit back again— and there they were. And what were they like? Realizationcame to me— they were like the little, dancing, radiant atoms that hadplayed for a time about the emptiness where had stood Sorgar of the LowerWaters before he had been shaken into the nothingness! And that green lightI had noticed— the Keth!
A cry on my lips, I turned to Larry— and the cry died as the heavycurtainings at the entrance on my right undulated, parted as though a bodyhad slipped through, shook and parted again and again— with the dreadfulpassing of unseen things!
"Larry!" I cried. "Here! Quick!"
He leaped to his feet, gazed about wildly— and disappeared!Yes— vanished from my sight like the snuffed flame of a candle or asthough something moving with the speed of light itself had snatched him away!
Then from the divan came the sounds of struggle, the hissing of strainingbreaths, the noise of Larry cursing. I leaped over the balustrade, drawingmy own pistol— was caught in a pair of mighty arms, my elbows crushedto my sides, drawn down until my face pressed close to a broad, hairybreast— and through that obstacle— formless, shadowless, transparentas air itself— I could still see the battle on the divan!
Now there were two sharp reports; the struggle abruptly ceased. From a pointnot a foot over the great couch, as though oozing from the air itself, bloodbegan to drop, faster and ever faster, pouring out of nothingness.
And out of that same air, now a dozen feet away, leaped the face ofLarry— bodyless, poised six feet above the floor, blazing withrage— floating weirdly, uncannily to a hideous degree, in vacancy.
His hands flashed out— armless; they wavered, appearing,disappearing— swiftly tearing something from him. Then there, feet hidden,stiff on legs that vanished at the ankles, striking out into vision withall the dizzy abruptness with which he had been stricken from sight was theO'Keefe, a smoking pistol in hand.
And ever that red stream trickled out of vacancy and spread over the couch,dripping to the floor.
I made a mighty movement to escape; was held more firmly— and then closeto the face of Larry, flashing out with that terrifying instantaneousnesseven as had his, was the head of Yolara, as devilishly mocking as I had everseen it, the cruelty shining through it like delicate white flames fromhell— and beautiful!
"Stir not! Strike not— until I command!" She flung the words beyond her,addressed to the invisible ones who had accompanied her; whose presencesI sensed filling the chamber. The floating, beautiful head, crowned highwith corn-silk hair, darted toward the Irishman. He took a swift step backward.The eyes of the priestess deepened toward purple; sparkled with malice.
"So," she said. "So, Larree you thought you could go from me so easily!"She laughed softly. "In my hidden hand I hold the Keth cone," shemurmured. "Before you can raise the death tube I can smite you— and will.And consider, Larree, if the handmaiden, the choya comes, I canvanish— so"— the mocking head disappeared, burst forth again— "andslay her with the Keth— or bid my people seize her and bear herto the Shining One!"
Tiny beads of sweat stood out on O'Keefe's forehead, and I knew he was thinkingnot of himself, but of Lakla.
"What do you want with me, Yolara?" he asked hoarsely.
"Nay," came the mocking voice. "Not Yolara to you, Larree— callme by those sweet names you taught me— Honey of the Wild Bee-e-s, Netof Hearts——" Again her laughter tinkled.
"What do you want with me?" his voice was strained, the lips rigid.
"Ah, you are afraid, Larree." There was diabolic jubilation in thewords. "What should I want but that you return with me? Why else did I creepthrough the lair of the dragon worm and pass the path of perils but to askyou that? And the choya guards you not well." Again she laughed. "Wecame to the cavern's end and there were her Akka. And the Akkacan see us— as shadows. But it was my desire to surprise you with mycoming, Larree," the voice was silken. "And I feared that they wouldhasten to be first to bring you that message to delight in your joy. Andso, Larree, I loosed the Keth upon them— and gave thempeace and rest within the nothingness. And the portal below was open— almostin welcome!"
Once more the malignant, silver pealing of her laughter.
"What do you want with me?" There was wrath in his eyes, and plainly he strovefor control.
"Want!" the silver voice hissed, grew calm. "Do not Siya and Siyana grievethat the rite I pledged them is but half done— and do they not desireit finished? And am I not beautiful? More beautiful than your choya?"
The fiendishness died from the eyes; they grew blue, wondrous; the veil ofinvisibility slipped down from the neck, the shoulders, half revealing thegleaming breasts. And weird, weird beyond all telling was that exquisitehead and bust floating there in air— and beautiful, sinisterly beautifulbeyond all telling, too. So even might Lilith, the serpent woman, have shownherself tempting Adam!
"And perhaps," she said; "perhaps I want you because I hate you; perhapsbecause I love you— or perhaps for Lugur or perhaps for the Shining One."
"And if I go with you?" He said it quietly.
"Then shall I spare the handmaiden— and— who knows?— take backmy armies that even now gather at the portal and let the Silent Ones rotin peace in their abode— from which they had no power to keep me," sheadded venomously.
"You will swear that, Yolara; swear to go without harming the handmaiden?"he asked eagerly. The little devils danced in her eyes. I wrenched my facefrom the smothering contact.
"Don't trust her, Larry!" I cried— and again the grip choked me.
"Is that devil in front of you or behind you, old man?" he asked quietly,eyes never leaving the priestess. "If he's in front I'll take a chance andwing him— and then you scoot and warn Lakla."
But I could not answer; nor, remembering Yolara's threat, would I, had Ibeen able.
"Decide quickly!" There was cold threat in her voice.
The curtains toward which O'Keefe had slowly, step by step, drawn close,opened. They framed the handmaiden! The face of Yolara changed to that gorgonmask that had transformed it once before at sight of the Golden Girl. Inher blind rage she forgot to cast the occulting veil. Her hand darted likea snake out of the folds; poising itself with the little silver cone aimedat Lakla.
But before it was wholly poised, before the priestess could loose its force,the handmaiden was upon her. Swift as the lithe white wolf hound she leaped,and one slender hand gripped Yolara's throat, the other the wrist that liftedthe quivering death; white limbs wrapped about the hidden ones. I saw thegolden head bend, the hand that held the Keth swept up with a viciousjerk; saw Lakla's teeth sink into the wrist— the blood spurt forth andheard the priestess shriek. The cone fell, bounded toward me; with all mystrength I wrenched free the hand that held my pistol, thrust it againstthe pressing breast and fired.
The clasp upon me relaxed; a red rain stained me; at my feet a little pillarof blood jetted; a hand thrust itself from nothingness, clawed— and wasstill.
Now Yolara was down, Lakla meshed in her writhings and fighting like somewild mother whose babes are serpent menaced. Over the two of them, astride,stood the O'Keefe, a pike from one of the high tripods in hishand— thrusting, parrying, beating on every side as with a broadswordagainst poniard-clutching hands that thrust themselves out of vacancy strivingto strike him; stepping here and there, always covering, protecting Laklawith his own body even as a caveman of old who does battle with his matefor their lives.
The sword-club struck— and on the floor lay the half body of a dwarf,writhing with vanishments and reappearings of legs and arms. Beside him wasthe shattered tripod from which Larry had wrenched his weapon. I flung myselfupon it, dashed it down to break loose one of the remaining supports, struckin midfall one of the unseen even as his dagger darted toward me! The seatsplintered, leaving in my clutch a golden bar. I jumped to Larry's side,guarding his back, whirling it like a staff; felt it crunchonce— twice— through unseen bone and muscle.
At the door was a booming. Into the chamber rushed a dozen of the frog-men.While some guarded the entrances, others leaped straight to us, and forminga circle about us began to strike with talons and spurs at unseen thingsthat screamed and sought to escape. Now here and there about the blue rugsgreat stains of blood appeared; heads of dwarfs, torn arms and gashed bodies,half occulted, half revealed. And at last the priestess lay silent, vanquished,white body gleaming with that uncanny— fragmentariness— from hertorn robes. Then O'Keefe reached down, drew Lakla from her. Shakily, Yolararose to her feet. The handmaiden, face still blazing with wrath, steppedbefore her; with difficulty she steadied her voice.
"Yolara," she said, "you have defied the Silent Ones, you have desecratedtheir abode, you came to slay these men who are the guests of the SilentOnes and me, who am their handmaiden— why did you do these things?"
"I came for him!" gasped the priestess; she pointed to O'Keefe.
"Why?" asked Lakla.
"Because he is pledged to me," replied Yolara, all the devils that were hersin her face. "Because he wooed me! Because he is mine!"
"That is a lie!" The handmaiden's voice shook with rage. "It is a lie! Buthere and now he shall choose, Yolara. And if you he choose, you and he shallgo forth from here unmolested— for Yolara, it is his happiness that Imost desire, and if you are that happiness— you shall go together. Andnow, Larry, choose!"
Swiftly she stepped beside the priestess; swiftly wrenched the last shredsof the hiding robes from her.
There they stood— Yolara with but the filmiest net of gauze about herwonderful body; gleaming flesh shining through it; serpent woman— andwonderful, too, beyond the dreams even of Phidias— and hell-fire glowingfrom the purple eyes.
And Lakla, like a girl of the Vikings, like one of those warrior maids whostood and fought for dun and babes at the side of those old heroes of Larry'sown green isle; translucent ivory lambent through the rents of her torndraperies, and in the wide, golden eyes flaming wrath, indeed— not thediabolic flames of the priestess but the righteous wrath of some soul thatlooking out of paradise sees vile wrong in the doing.
"Lakla," the O'Keefe's voice was subdued, hurt, "there is no choice.I love you and only you— and have from the moment I saw you. It's noteasy— this. God, Goodwin, I feel like an utter cad," he flashed at me."There is no choice, Lakla," he ended, eyes steady upon hers.
The priestess's face grew deadlier still.
"What will you do with me?" she asked.
"Keep you," I said, "as hostage."
O'Keefe was silent; the Golden Girl shook her head.
"Well would I like to," her face grew dreaming; "but the Silent Onessay— no; they bid me let you go, Yolara——"
"The Silent Ones," the priestess laughed. "You, Lakla! You fear, perhaps,to let me tarry here too close!"
Storm gathered again in the handmaiden's eyes; she forced it back.
"No," she answered, "the Silent Ones so command— and for their own purposes.Yet do I think, Yolara, that you will have little time to feed yourwickedness— tell that to Lugur— and to your Shining One!" she addedslowly.
Mockery and disbelief rode high in the priestess's pose. "Am I to returnalone— like this?" she asked.
"Nay, Yolara, nay; you shall be accompanied," said Lakla; "and by those whowill guard— and watch— you well. They are here even now."
The hangings parted, and into the chamber came Olaf and Rador.
The priestess met the fierce hatred and contempt in the eyes of theNorseman— and for the first time lost her bravado.
"Let not him go with me," she gasped— her eyes searched the floorfrantically.
"He goes with you," said Lakla, and threw about Yolara a swathing that coveredthe exquisite, alluring body. "And you shall pass through the Portal, notskulk along the path of the worm!"
She bent to Rador, whispered to him; he nodded; she had told him, I supposed,the secret of its opening.
"Come," he said, and with the ice-eyed giant behind her, Yolara, head bent,passed out of those hangings through which, but a little before, unseen,triumph in her grasp, she had slipped.
Then Lakla came to the unhappy O'Keefe, rested her hands on his shoulders,looked deep into his eyes.
"Did you woo her, even as she said?" she asked.
The Irishman flushed miserably.
"I did not," he said. "I was pleasant to her, of course, because I thoughtit would bring me quicker to you, darlin'."
She looked at him doubtfully; then——
"I think you must have been very— pleasant!" was all shesaid— and leaning, kissed him forgivingly straight on the lips. An extremelydirect maiden was Lakla, with a truly sovereign contempt for anything shemight consider non-essentials; and at this moment I decided she was wisereven than I had thought her.
He stumbled, feet vanishing; reached down and picked up something that inthe grasping turned his hand to air.
"One of the invisible cloaks," he said to me. "There must be quite a lotof them about— I guess Yolara brought her full staff of murderers. They'rea bit shopworn, probably— but we're considerably better off with 'emin our hands than in hers. And they may come in handy— who knows?"
There was a choking rattle at my feet; half the head of a dwarf raised outof vacancy; beat twice upon the floor in death throes; fell back. Lakla shivered;gave a command. The frog-men moved about; peering here and there; liftingunseen folds revealing in stark rigidity torn form after form of the priestess'smen.
Lakla had been right— her Akka were thorough fighters!
She called, and to her came the frog-woman who was her attendant. To herthe handmaiden spoke, pointing to the batrachians who stood, paws and forearmsmelted beneath the robes they had gathered. She took them and passedout— more grotesque than ever, shattering into streaks of vacancies,reappearing with flickers of shining scale and yellow gems as the tatteredpennants of invisibility fluttered about her.
The frog-men reached down, swung each a dead dwarf in his arms, and filed,booming triumphantly away.
And then I remembered the cone of the Keth which had slipped fromYolara's hand; knew it had been that for which her wild eyes searched. Butlook as closely as we might, search in every nook and corner as we did, wecould not find it. Had the dying hand of one of her men clutched it and hadit been borne away with them? With the thought Larry and I raced after thescaled warriors, searched every body they carried. It was not there. Perhapsthe priestess had found it, retrieved it swiftly without our seeing.
Whatever was true— the cone was gone. And what a weapon that one littleholder of the shaking death would have been for us!
CHAPTER XXVIII
In the Lair of the Dweller
It is with marked hesitation that I begin this chapter, because in it I mustdeal with an experience so contrary to every known law of physics as to seemimpossible. Until this time, barring, of course, the mystery of the Dweller,I had encountered nothing that was not susceptible of naturalistic explanation;nothing, in a word, outside the domain of science itself; nothing that Iwould have felt hesitancy in reciting to my colleagues of the InternationalAssociation of Science. Amazing, unfamiliar— advanced— asmany of the phenomena were, still they lay well within the limits of whatwe have mapped as the possible; in regions, it is true, still virgin to themind of man, but toward which that mind is steadily advancing.
But this— well, I confess that I have a theory that is naturalistic;but so abstruse, so difficult to make clear within the short confines ofthe space I have to give it, so dependent upon conceptions that even thehighest-trained scientific brains find difficult to grasp, that I despair.
I can only say that the thing occurred; that it took place in precisely themanner I am about to narrate, and that I experienced it.
Yet, in justice to myself, I must open up some paths of preliminary approachtoward the heart of the perplexity. And the first path is the realizationthat our world whatever it is, is certainly not the world aswe see it! Regarding this I shall refer to a discourse upon "Gravitationand the Principle of Relativity," by the distinguished English physicist,Dr. A. S. Eddington, which I had the pleasure of hearing him deliver beforethe Royal Institution.[9]
[9 Reprinted in full in Nature, in which those sufficientlyinterested may peruse it.— W. T. G.]
I realize, of course, that it is not true logic to argue— "The worldis not as we think it is— therefore everything we think impossible ispossible in it." Even if it be different, it is governed bylaw. The truly impossible is that which is outside law, and as nothingcan be outside law, the impossible cannot exist.
The crux of the matter then becomes our determination whether what we thinkis impossible may or may not be possible under laws still beyond our knowledge.
I hope that you will pardon me for this somewhat academic digression, butI felt it was necessary, and it has, at least, put me more at ease. And nowto resume.
We had watched, Larry and I, the frog-men throw the bodies of Yolara's assassinsinto the crimson waters. As vultures swoop down upon the dying, there camesailing swiftly to where the dead men floated, dozens of the luminous globes.Their slender, varicoloured tentacles whipped out; the giant iridescent bubblesclimbed over the cadavers. And as they touched them there was theswift dissolution, the melting away into putrescence of flesh and bone thatI had witnessed when the dart touched fruit that time I had saved Rador— andupon this the Medusae gorged; pulsing lambently; their wondrous colours shifting,changing, glowing stronger; elfin moons now indeed, but satellites whoseglimmering beauty was fed by death; alembics of enchantment whose glorioushues were sucked from horror.
Sick, I turned away— O'Keefe as pale as I; passed back into the corridorthat had opened on the ledge from which we had watched; met Lakla hurryingtoward us. Before she could speak there throbbed faintly about us a vastsighing. It grew into a murmur, a whispering, shook us— then passinglike a presence, died away in far distance.
"The Portal has opened," said the handmaiden. A fainter sighing, like anecho of the other, mourned about us. "Yolara is gone," she said, "the Portalis closed. Now must we hasten— for the Three have commanded that you,Goodwin, and Larry and I tread that strange road of which I have spoken,and which Olaf may not take lest his heart break— and we must returnere he and Rador cross the bridge."
Her hand sought Larry's.
"Come!" said Lakla, and we walked on; down and down through hall after hall,flight upon flight of stairways. Deep, deep indeed, we must be beneath thedomed castle— Lakla paused before a curved, smooth breast of the crimsonstone rounding gently into the passage. She pressed its side; it revolved;we entered; it closed behind us.
The room, the— hollow— in which we stood was faceted like a diamond;and like a cut brilliant its sides glistened— though dully. Its shapewas a deep oval, and our path dropped down to a circular polished base, roughlytwo yards in diameter. Glancing behind me I saw that in the closing of theentrance there had been left no trace of it save the steps that led fromwhere that entrance had been— and as I looked these steps turned,leaving us isolated upon the circle, only the faceted walls about us— andin each of the gleaming faces the three of us reflected— dimly. It wasas though we were within a diamond egg whose graven angles had been turnedinward.
But the oval was not perfect; at my right a screen cut it— a screen thatgleamed with fugitive, fleeting luminescences— stretching from the sideof our standing place up to the tip of the chamber; slightly convex andcriss-crossed by millions of fine lines like those upon a spectroscopic plate,but with this difference— that within each line I sensed the presenceof multitudes of finer lines, dwindling into infinitude, ultramicroscopic,traced by some instrument compared to whose delicacy our finest tool wouldbe as a crowbar to the needle of a micrometer.
A foot or two from it stood something like the standee of a compass, bearing,like it a cradled dial under whose crystal ran concentric rings of prisoned,lambent vapours, faintly blue. From the edge of the dial jutted a littleshelf of crystal, a keyboard, in which were cut eight small cups.
Within these cups the handmaiden placed her tapering fingers. She gazed downupon the disk; pressed a digit— and the screen behind us slipped noiselesslyinto another angle.
"Put your arm around my waist, Larry, darlin', and stand close," she murmured."You, Goodwin, place your arm over my shoulder."
Wondering, I did as she bade; she pressed other fingers upon the shelf'sindentations— three of the rings of vapour spun into intense light, racedaround each other; from the screen behind us grew a radiance that held withinitself all spectrums— not only those seen, but those unseen byman's eyes. It waxed brilliant and ever more brilliant, all suffusing, passingthrough me as day streams through a window pane!
The enclosing facets burst into a blaze of coruscations, and in each sparklingpanel I saw our images, shaken and torn like pennants in a whirlwind. I turnedto look— was stopped by the handmaiden's swift command: "Turn not— onyour life!"
The radiance behind me grew; was a rushing tempest of light in which I wasbut the shadow of a shadow. I heard, but not with my ears— nay withmind itself— a vast roaring; an ordered tumult of soundthat came hurling from the outposts of space;approaching— rushing— hurricane out of the heart of thecosmos— closer, closer. It wrapped itself about us with unearthly mightyarms.
And brilliant, ever more brilliant, streamed the radiance through us.
The faceted walls dimmed; in front of me they melted, diaphanously, likea gelatinous wall in a blast of flame; through their vanishing, under thetorrent of driving light, the unthinkable, impalpable tornado, I began tomove, slowly— then ever more swiftly!
Still the roaring grew; the radiance streamed— ever faster we went. Cuttingdown through the length, the extension of me, dropped a wall of rock,foreshortened, clenched close; I caught a glimpse of the elfin gardens; theywhirled, contracted, into a thin— slice— of colour that wasa part of me; another wall of rock shrinking into a thin wedge through whichI flew, and that at once took its place within me like a card slipped besidethose others!
Flashing around me, and from Lakla and O'Keefe, were nimbuses of flickeringscarlet flames. And always the steady hurling forward— appallinglymechanical.
Another barrier of rock— a gleam of white waters incorporating themselvesinto my— drawing out— even as were the flowered moss lands,the slicing, rocky walls— still another rampart of cliff, dwindling instantlyinto the vertical plane of those others. Our flight checked; we seemed tohover within, then to sway onward— slowly, cautiously.
A mist danced ahead of me— a mist that grew steadily thinner. We stopped,wavered— the mist cleared.
I looked out into translucent, green distances; shot with swift prismaticgleamings; waves and pulsings of luminosity like midday sun glow throughgreen, tropic waters; dancing, scintillating veils of sparkling atoms thatflew, hither and yon, through depths of nebulous splendour!
And Lakla and Larry and I were, I saw, like shadow shapes upon a smooth breastof stone twenty feet or more above the surface of this place— a surfacespangled with tiny white blossoms gleaming wanly through creeping veils ofphosphorescence like smoke of moon fire. We were shadows— and yet wehad substance; we were incorporated with, a part of, the rock— and yetwe were living flesh and blood; we stretched— nor will I qualifythis— we stretched through mile upon mile of space that weirdlyenough gave at one and the same time an absolute certainty of immense horizontallengths and a vertical concentration that contained nothing of length, nothingof space whatever; we stood there upon the face of the stone— andstill we were here within the faceted oval before the screen of radiance!
"Steady!" It was Lakla's voice— and not beside me there, but atmy ear close before the screen. "Steady, Goodwin! And— see!"
The sparkling haze cleared. Enormous reaches stretched before me. Shimmeringup through them, and as though growing in some medium thicker than air, wasmass upon mass of verdure— fruiting trees and trees laden with pale blossoms,arbours and bowers of pallid blooms, like that sea fruit of oblivion— grapesof Lethe— that cling to the tide-swept walls of the caverns of the Hebrides.
Through them, beyond them, around and about them, drifted and eddied ahorde— great as that with which Tamerlane swept down upon Rome, vastas the myriads which Genghis Khan rolled upon the califs— men and womenand children— clothed in tatters, half nude and wholly naked; slant-eyedChinese, sloe-eyed Malays, islanders black and brown and yellow, fierce-facedwarriors of the Solomons with grizzled locks fantastically bedizened; Papuans,feline Javans, Dyaks of hill and shore; hook-nosed Phoenicians, Romans,straight-browed Greeks, and Vikings centuries beyond their lives;scores of the black-haired Murians; white faces of our own Westerners— menand women and children— drifting, eddying— each stamped with thatmingled horror and rapture, eyes filled with ecstasy and terror entwined,marked by God and devil in embrace— the seal of the Shining One— thedead-alive; the lost ones!
The loot of the Dweller!
Soul-sick, I gazed. They lifted to us visages of dread; they swept down towardus, glaring upward— a bank against which other and still other wavesof faces rolled, were checked, paused; until as far as I could see, likebillows piled upon an ever-growing barrier, they stretched beneathus— staring— staring!
Now there was a movement— far, far away; a concentrating of the lambency;the dead-alive swayed, oscillated, separated— forming a long lane againstwhose outskirts they crowded with avid, hungry insistence.
First only a luminous cloud, then a whirling pillar of splendours throughthe lane came— the Shining One. As it passed, the dead-alive swirledin its wake like leaves behind a whirlwind, eddying, twisting; and as theDweller raced by them, brushing them with its spirallings and tentacles,they shone forth with unearthly, awesome gleamings— like vessels of alabasterin which wicks flare suddenly. And when it had passed they closed behindit, staring up at us once more.
The Dweller paused beneath us.
Out of the drifting ruck swam the body of Throckmartin! Throckmartin, myfriend, to find whom I had gone to the pallid moon door; my friend whosecall I had so laggardly followed. On his face was the Dweller's dreadfulstamp; the lips were bloodless; the eyes were wide, lucent, something likepale, phosphorescence gleaming within them— and soulless.
He stared straight up at me, unwinking, unrecognizing. Pressing against hisside was a woman, young and gentle, and lovely— lovely even through themask that lay upon her face. And her wide eyes, like Throckmartin's, glowedwith the lurking, unholy fires. She pressed against him closely; though thehordes kept up the faint churning, these two kept ever together, as thoughbound by unseen fetters.
And I knew the girl for Edith, his wife, who in vain effort to save him hadcast herself into the Dweller's embrace!
"Throckmartin!" I cried. "Throckmartin! I'm here!"
Did he hear? I know now, of course, he could not.
But then I waited— hope striving to break through the nightmare handsthat gripped my heart.
Their wide eyes never left me. There was another movement about them, otherspushed past them; they drifted back, swaying, eddying— and still staringwere lost in the awful throng.
Vainly I strained my gaze to find them again, to force some sign of recognition,some awakening of the clean life we know. But they were gone. Try as I wouldI could not see them— nor Stanton and the northern woman named Thorawho had been the first of that tragic party to be taken by the Dweller.
"Throckmartin!" I cried again, despairingly. My tears blinded me.
I felt Lakla's light touch.
"Steady," she commanded, pitifully. "Steady, Goodwin. You cannot helpthem— now! Steady and— watch!"
Below us the Shining One had paused— spiralling, swirling, vibrant withall its transcendent, devilish beauty; had paused and was contemplating us.Now I could see clearly that nucleus, that core shot through with flashingveins of radiance, that ever-shifting shape of glory through the shroudingsof shimmering, misty plumes, throbbing lacy opalescences, vaporous spirallingsof prismatic phantom fires. Steady over it hung the seven little moons ofamethyst, of saffron, of emerald and azure and silver, of rose of life andmoon white. They poised themselves like a diadem— calm, serene,immobile— and down from them into the Dweller, piercing plumes and swirlsand spirals, ran countless tiny strands, radiations, finer than the finestspun thread of spider's web, gleaming filaments through which seemed torun— power— from the seven globes; like— yes, that wasit— miniatures of the seven torrents of moon flame that poured throughthe septichromatic, high crystals in the Moon Pool's chamber roof.
Swam out of the coruscating haze the— face!
Both of man and of woman it was— like some ancient, androgynous deityof Etruscan fanes long dust, and yet neither woman nor man; human and unhuman;seraphic and sinister, benign and malefic— and still no more of thesefour than is flame, which is beautiful whether it warms or devours, or windwhether it feathers the trees or shatters them, or the wave which is wondrouswhether it caresses or kills.
Subtly, undefinably it was of our world and of one not ours. Its lineamentsflowed from another sphere, took fleeting familiar form— and as swiftlywithdrew whence they had come; something amorphous, unearthly— as ofunknown, unheeding, unseen gods rushing through the depths of star-hung space;and still of our own earth, with the very soul of earth peering out fromit, caught within it— and in some— unholy— way debased.
It had eyes— eyes that were now only shadows darkening within its luminositylike veils falling, and falling, opening windows into the unknowable;deepening into softly glowing blue pools, blue as the Moon Pool itself; thenflashing out, and this only when the— face— bore its most humanresemblance, into twin stars large almost as the crown of little moons; andwith that same baffling suggestion of peep-holes into a world untrodden,alien, perilous to man!
"Steady!" came Lakla's voice, her body leaned against mine.
I gripped myself, my brain steadied, I looked again. And I saw that of body,at least body as we know it, the Shining One had none— nothing but thethrobbing, pulsing core streaked with lightning veins of rainbows; and aroundthis, never still, sheathing it, the swirling, glorious veilings of its helland heaven born radiance.
So the Dweller stood— and gazed.
Then up toward us swept a reaching, questing spiral!
Under my hand Lakla's shoulder quivered; Dead-Alive and their mastervanished— I danced, flickered, within the rock; felt a swift senseof shrinking, of withdrawal; slice upon slice the carded walls of stone,of silvery waters, of elfin gardens slipped from me as cards are withdrawnfrom a pack, one by one— slipped, wheeled, flattened, and lengthenedout as I passed through them and they passed from me.
Gasping, shaken, weak, I stood within the faceted oval chamber; arm stillabout the handmaiden's white shoulder; Larry's hand still clutching her girdle.
The roaring, impalpable gale from the cosmos was retreating to the outpostsof space— was still; the intense, streaming, flooding radiancelessened— died.
"Now have you beheld," said Lakla, "and well you trod the road. And now shallyou hear, even as the Silent Ones have commanded, what the Shining Oneis— and how it came to be."
The steps flashed back; the doorway into the chamber opened.
Larry as silent as I— we followed her through it.
CHAPTER XXIX
The Shaping of the Shining One
We reached what I knew to be Lakla's own boudoir, if I may so call it. Smallerthan any of the other chambers of the domed castle in which we had been,its intimacy was revealed not only by its faint fragrance but by its highmirrors of polished silver and various oddly wrought articles of the femininetoilet that lay here and there; things I afterward knew to be the work ofthe artisans of the Akka— and no mean metal workers were they.One of the window slits dropped almost to the floor, and at its base wasa wide, comfortably cushioned seat commanding a view of the bridge and ofthe cavern ledge. To this the handmaiden beckoned us; sank upon it, drewLarry down beside her and motioned me to sit close to him.
"Now this," she said, "is what the Silent Ones have commanded me to tellyou two: To you Larry, that knowing you may weigh all things in your mindand answer as your spirit bids you a question that the Three will ask— andwhat that is I know not," she murmured, "and I, they say, must answer,too— and it— frightens me!"
The great golden eyes widened; darkened with dread; she sighed, shook herhead impatiently.
"Not like us, and never like us," she spoke low, wonderingly, "the SilentOnes say were they. Nor were those from which they sprang like those fromwhich we have come. Ancient, ancient beyond thought are the Taithu,the race of the Silent Ones. Far, far below this place where now we sit,close to earth heart itself were they born; and there they dwelt for timeupon time, laya upon laya upon laya— with others,not like them, some of which have vanished time upon time agone, others thatstill dwell— below— in their— cradle.
"It is hard"— she hesitated— "hard to tell this— that slips throughmy mind— because I know so little that even as the Three told it to meit passed from me for lack of place to stand upon," she went on, quaintly."Something there was of time when earth and sun were but cold mists inthe— the heavens— something of these mists drawing together, whirling,whirling, faster and faster— drawing as they whirled more and more ofthe mists— growing larger, growing warm— forming at last into theglobes they are, with others spinning around the sun— something of regionswithin this globe where vast fire was prisoned and bursting forth tore andrent the young orb— of one such bursting forth that sent what you callmoon flying out to company us and left behind those spaces whence we nowdwell— and of— of life particles that here and there below grew intothe race of the Silent Ones, and those others— but not the Akkawhich, like you, they say came from above— and all this I do notunderstand— do you, Goodwin?" she appealed to me.
I nodded— for what she had related so fragmentarily was in reality anexcellent approach to the Chamberlain-Moulton theory of a coalescing nebulacontracting into the sun and its planets.
Astonishing was the recognition of this theory. Even more so was the referenceto the life particles, the idea of Arrhenius, the great Swede, of life startingon earth through the dropping of minute, life spores, propelled throughspace by the driving power of light and, encountering favourable environmenthere, developing through the vast ages into man and every other living thingwe know.[10]
[10 Professor Svante August Arrhenius, in his Worlds inthe Making— the conception that life is universally diffused, constantlyemitted from all habitable worlds in the form of spores which traverse spacefor years and ages, the majority being ultimately destroyed by the heat ofsome blazing star, but some few finding a resting-place on globes which havereached the habitable stage.— W. T. G.]
Nor was it incredible that in the ancient nebula that was the matrix of oursolar system similar, or rather dissimilar, particles in all but thesubtle essence we call life, might have become entangled and, resisting everycataclysm as they had resisted the absolute zero of outer space, found inthese caverned spaces their proper environment to develop into the race ofthe Silent Ones and— only they could tell what else!
"They say," the handmaiden's voice was surer, "they say that intheir— cradle— near earth's heart they grew; grew untroubled by theturmoil and disorder which flayed the surface of this globe. And they sayit was a place of light and that strength came to them from earthheart— strength greater than you and those from which you sprang everderived from sun.
"At last, ancient, ancient beyond all thought, they say again, was thistime— they began to know, to— to— realize— themselves. Andwisdom came ever more swiftly. Up from their cradle, because they did notwish to dwell longer with those— others— they came and found thisplace.
"When all the face of earth was covered with waters in which lived only tiny,hungry things that knew naught save hunger and its satisfaction, theyhad attained wisdom that enabled them to make paths such as we have justtravelled and to look out upon those waters! And laya upon layathereafter, time upon time, they went upon the paths and watched the floodrecede; saw great bare flats of steaming ooze appear on which crawled andsplashed larger things which had grown from the tiny hungry ones; watchedthe flats rise higher and higher and green life begin to clothe them; sawmountains uplift and vanish.
"Ever the green life waxed and the things which crept and crawled grew greaterand took ever different forms; until at last came a time when the steamingmists lightened and the things which had begun as little more than tiny hungrymouths were huge and monstrous, so huge that the tallest of my Akkawould not have reached the knee of the smallest of them.
"But in none of these, in none, was there— realization— ofthemselves, say the Three; naught but hunger driving, always driving themto still its crying.
"So for time upon time the race of the Silent Ones took the paths no more,placing aside the half-thought that they had of making their way to earthface even as they had made their way from beside earth heart. They turnedwholly to the seeking of wisdom— and after other time on time they attainedthat which killed even the faintest shadow of the half-thought. For theycrept far within the mysteries of life and death, they mastered the illusionof space, they lifted the veils of creation and of its twin destruction,and they stripped the covering from the flaming jewel of truth— but whenthey had crept within those mysteries they bid me tell you, Goodwin,they found ever other mysteries veiling the way; and after they had uncoveredthe jewel of truth they found it to be a gem of infinite facets and thereforenot wholly to be read before eternity's unthinkable end!
"And for this they were glad— because now throughout eternity might theyand theirs pursue knowledge over ways illimitable.
"They conquered light— light that sprang at their bidding from thenothingness that gives birth to all things and in which lie all things thatare, have been and shall be; light that streamed through their bodies cleansingthem of all dross; light that was food and drink; light that carried theirvision afar or bore to them images out of space opening many windows throughwhich they gazed down upon life on thousands upon thousands of the rushingworlds; light that was the flame of life itself and in which they bathed,ever renewing their own. They set radiant lamps within the stones, and ofblack light they wove the sheltering shadows and the shadows that slay.
"Arose from this people those Three— the Silent Ones. They led them allin wisdom so that in the Three grew— pride. And the Three built themthis place in which we sit and set the Portal in its place and withdrew fromtheir kind to go alone into the mysteries and to map alone the facets ofTruth Jewel.
"Then there came the ancestors of the— Akka; not as they are now,and glowing but faintly within them the spark of— self-realization. Andthe Taithu seeing this spark did not slay them. But they took theancient, long untrodden paths and looked forth once more upon earth face.Now on the land were vast forests and a chaos of green life. On the shoresthings scaled and fanged, fought and devoured each other, and in the greenlife moved bodies great and small that slew and ran from those that wouldslay.
"They searched for the passage through which the Akka had come andclosed it. Then the Three took them and brought them here; and taught themand blew upon the spark until it burned ever stronger and in time they becamemuch as they are now— my Akka.
"The Three took counsel after this and said— 'We have strengthened lifein these until it has become articulate; shall we not create life?'"Again she hesitated, her eyes rapt, dreaming. "The Three are speaking," shemurmured. "They have my tongue——"
And certainly, with an ease and rapidity as though she were but a voice throughwhich minds far more facile, more powerful poured their thoughts, she spoke.
"Yea," the golden voice was vibrant. "We said that what we would create shouldbe of the spirit of life itself, speaking to us with the tongues of the far-flungstars, of the winds, of the waters, and of all upon and within these. Uponthat universal matrix of matter, that mother of all things that you namethe ether, we laboured. Think not that her wondrous fertility is limitedby what ye see on earth or what has been on earth from its beginning. Infinite,infinite are the forms the mother bears and countless are the energies thatare part of her.
"By our wisdom we had fashioned many windows out of our abode and throughthem we stared into the faces of myriads of worlds, and upon them all werethe children of ether even as the worlds themselves were her children.
"Watching we learned, and learning we formed that ye term the Dweller, whichthose without name— the Shining One. Within the Universal Mother we shapedit, to be a voice to tell us her secrets, a lamp to go before us lightingthe mysteries. Out of the ether we fashioned it, giving it the soul of lightthat still ye know not nor perhaps ever may know, and with the essence oflife that ye saw blossoming deep in the abyss and that is the pulse of earthheart we filled it. And we wrought with pain and with love, with yearningand with scorching pride and from our travail came the Shining One— ourchild!
"There is an energy beyond and above ether, a purposeful, sentient forcethat laps like an ocean the furthest-flung star, that transfuses all thatether bears, that sees and speaks and feels in us and in you, that is incorporatein beast and bird and reptile, in tree and grass and all living things, thatsleeps in rock and stone, that finds sparkling tongue in jewel and star andin all dwellers within the firmament. And this ye call consciousness!
"We crowned the Shining One with the seven orbs of light which are the channelsbetween it and the sentience we sought to make articulate, the portals throughwhich flow its currents and so flowing, become choate, vocal, self-realizantwithin our child.
"But as we shaped, there passed some of the essence of our pride; in givingwill we had given power, perforce, to exercise that will for good or forevil, to speak or to be silent, to tell us what we wished of that which pouredinto it through the seven orbs or to withhold that knowledge itself; andin forging it from the immortal energies we had endowed it with theirindifference; open to all consciousness it held within it the pole of utterjoy and the pole of utter woe with all the arc that lies between; all theecstasies of the countless worlds and suns and all their sorrows; all thatye symbolize as gods and all ye symbolize as devils— not negativing eachother, for there is no such thing as negation, but holding them together,balancing them, encompassing them, pole upon pole!"
So this was the explanation of the entwined emotions of joy and terrorthat had changed so appallingly Throckmartin's face and the faces of allthe Dweller's slaves!
The handmaiden's eyes grew bright, alert, again; the brooding passed fromher face; the golden voice that had been so deep found its own familiar pitch.
"I listened while the Three spoke to you," she said. "Now the shaping ofthe Shining One had been a long, long travail and time had flown over theouter world laya upon laya. For a space the Shining One wascontent to dwell here; to be fed with the foods of light: to open the eyesof the Three to mystery upon mystery and to read for them facet after facetof the gem of truth. Yet as the tides of consciousness flowed through itthey left behind shadowings and echoes of their burdens; and the ShiningOne grew stronger, always stronger of itself within itself. Its willstrengthened and now not always was it the will of the Three; and the pridethat was woven in the making of it waxed, while the love for them that itscreators had set within it waned.
"Not ignorant were the Taithu of the work of the Three. First therewere a few, then more and more who coveted the Shining One and who wouldhave had the Three share with them the knowledge it drew in for them. Butthe Silent Ones in their pride, would not.
"There came a time when its will was now all its own, and it rebelled,turning its gaze to the wider spaces beyond the Portal, offering itself tothe many there who would serve it; tiring of the Three, their control andtheir abode.
"Now the Shining One has its limitations, even as we. Over water it can pass,through air and through fire; but pass it cannot, through rock or metal.So it sent a message— how I know not— to the Taithu who desiredit, whispering to them the secret of the Portal. And when the time was ripethey opened the Portal and the Shining One passed through it to them; norwould it return to the Three though they commanded, and when they would haveforced it they found that it had hived and hidden a knowledge that they couldnot overcome.
"Yet by their arts the Three could have shattered the seven shining orbs;but they would not because— they loved, it!
"Those to whom it had gone built for it that place I have shown you, andthey bowed to it and drew wisdom from it. And ever they turned more and morefrom the ways in which the Taithu had walked— for it seemed thatwhich came to the Shining One through the seven orbs had less and less ofgood and more and more of the power you call evil. Knowledge it gave andunderstanding, yes; but not that which, clear and serene, lights the pathsof right wisdom; rather were they flares pointing the dark roads that leadto— to the ultimate evil!
"Not all of the race of the Three followed the counsel of the Shining One.There were many, many, who would have none of it nor of its power. So werethe Taithu split; and to this place where there had been none, camehatred, fear and suspicion. Those who pursued the ancient ways went to theThree and pleaded with them to destroy their work— and they would not,for still they loved it.
"Stronger grew the Dweller and less and less did it lay before itsworshippers— for now so they had become— the fruits of its knowledge;and it grew— restless— turning its gaze upon earth face even as ithad turned it from the Three. It whispered to the Taithu to take againthe paths and look out upon the world. Lo! above them was a great fertileland on which dwelt an unfamiliar race, skilled in arts, seeking and findingwisdom— mankind! Mighty builders were they; vast were their cities andhuge their temples of stone.
"They called their lands Muria and they worshipped a god Thanaroa whom theyimagined to be the maker of all things, dwelling far away. They worshippedas closer gods, not indifferent but to be prayed to and to be propitiated,the moon and the sun. Two kings they had, each with his council and his court.One was high priest to the moon and the other high priest to the sun.
"The mass of this people were black-haired, but the sun king and his nobleswere ruddy with hair like mine; and the moon king and his followers werelike Yolara— or Lugur. And this, the Three say, Goodwin, came about becausefor time upon time the law had been that whenever a ruddy-haired or ashen-tressedchild was born of the black-haired it became dedicated at once to eithersun god or moon god, later wedding and bearing children only to their ownkind. Until at last from the black-haired came no more of the light-lockedones, but the ruddy ones, being stronger, still arose from them."
CHAPTER XXX
The Building of the Moon Pool
She paused, running her long fingers through her own bronze-flecked ringlets.Selective breeding this, with a vengeance, I thought; an ancient experimentin heredity which of course would in time result in the stamping out of thetendency to depart from type that lies in all organisms; resulting, obviously,at last, in three fixed forms of black-haired, ruddy-haired, andsilver-haired— but this, with a shock of realization it came to me, wasalso an accurate description of the dark-polled ladala, their fair-hairedrulers and of the golden-brown tressed Lakla!
How— questions began to stream through my mind; silenced by the handmaiden'svoice.
"Above, far, far above the abode of the Shining One," she said, "was theirgreatest temple, holding the shrines both of sun and moon. All about it wereother temples hidden behind mighty walls, each enclosing its own space andsquared and ruled and standing within a shallow lake; the sacred city, thecity of the gods of this land——"
"It is the Nan-Matal that she is describing," I thought.
"Out upon all this looked the Taithu who were now but the servantsof the Shining One as it had been the messenger of the Three," she went on."When they returned the Shining One spoke to them, promising them dominionover all that they had seen, yea, under It dominion of all earth itselfand later perhaps of other earths!
"In the Shining One had grown craft, cunning; knowledge to gain that whichit desired. Therefore it told its Taithu— and mayhap told themtruth— that not yet was it time for them to go forth; that slowlymust they pass into that outer world, for they had sprung from heart of earthand even it lacked power to swirl unaided into and through the above. Thenit counselled them, instructing them what to do. They hollowed the chamberwherein first I saw you, cutting their way to it that path down which fromit you sped.
"It revealed to them that the force that is within moon flame is kin to theforce that is within it, for the chamber of its birth was the chamber tooof moon birth and into it went the subtle essence and powers that flow inthat earth child; and it taught them how to make that which fills what youcall the Moon Pool whose opening is close behind its Veil hanging upon thegleaming cliffs.
"When this was done it taught them how to make and how to place the sevenlights through which moon flame streams into Moon Pool— the seven lightsthat are kin to its own seven orbs even as its fires are kin to moonfires— and which would open for it a path that it could tread. And allthis the Taithu did, working so secretly that neither those of theirrace whose faces were set against the Shining One nor the busy men aboveknew aught of it.
"When it was done they moved up the path, clustering within the Moon PoolChamber. Moon flame streamed through the seven globes, poured down upon thepool; they saw mists arise, embrace, and become one with the moon flame— andthen up through Moon Pool, shaping itself within the mists of light, whirling,radiant— the Shining One!
"Almost free, almost loosed upon the world it coveted!
"Again it counselled them, and they pierced the passage whose portal youfound first; set the fires within its stones, and revealing themselves tothe moon king and his priests spake to them even as the Shining One hadinstructed.
"Now was the moon king filled with fear when he looked upon theTaithu, shrouded with protecting mists of light in Moon Pool Chamber,and heard their words. Yet, being crafty, he thought of the power that wouldbe his if he heeded and how quickly the strength of the sun king would dwindle.So he and his made a pact with the Shining One's messengers.
"When next the moon was round and poured its flames down upon Moon Pool,the Taithu gathered there again, watched the child of the Three takeshape within the pillars, speed away— and out! They heard a mighty shouting,a tumult of terror, of awe and of worship; a silence; a vast sighing— andthey waited, wrapped in their mists of light, for they feared to follow norwere they near the paths that would have enabled them to look without.
"Another tumult— and back came the Shining One, murmuring with joy, pulsing,triumphant, and clasped within its vapours a man and woman, ruddy-haired,golden-eyed, in whose faces rapture and horror lay side by side— gloriously,hideously. And still holding them it danced above the Moon Pool and— sank!
"Now must I be brief. Lat after lat the Shining One went forth,returning with its sacrifices. And stronger after each it grew— and gayerand more cruel. Ever when it passed with its prey toward the pool, theTaithu who watched felt a swift, strong intoxication, a drunkennessof spirit, streaming from it to them. And the Shining One forgot what ithad promised them of dominion— and in this new evil delight they tooforgot.
"The outer land was torn with hatred and open strife. The moon king and hiskind, through the guidance of the evil Taithu and the favour of theShining One, had become powerful and the sun king and his were darkened.And the moon priests preached that the child of the Three was the moon goditself come to dwell with them.
"Now vast tides arose and when they withdrew they took with them great portionsof this country. And the land itself began to sink. Then said the moon kingthat the moon had called to ocean to destroy because wroth that another thanhe was worshipped. The people believed and there was slaughter. When it wasover there was no more a sun king nor any of the ruddy-haired folk; slainwere they, slain down to the babe at breast.
"But still the tides swept higher; still dwindled the land!
"As it shrank multitudes of the fleeing people were led through Moon PoolChamber and carried here. They were what now are called the ladala,and they were given place and set to work; and they thrived. Came many ofthe fair-haired; and they were given dwellings. They sat beside the evilTaithu; they became drunk even as they with the dancing of the ShiningOne; they learned— not all; only a little part but little enough— oftheir arts. And ever the Shining One danced more gaily out there within theblack amphitheatre; grew ever stronger— and ever the hordes of its slavesbehind the Veil increased.
"Nor did the Taithu who clung to the old ways check this— theycould not. By the sinking of the land above, their own spaces were imperilled.All of their strength and all of their wisdom it took to keep this land fromperishing; nor had they help from those others mad for the poison of theShining One; and they had no time to deal with them nor the earth race withwhom they had foregathered.
"At last came a slow, vast flood. It rolled even to the bases of the walledislets of the city of the gods— and within these now were all that wereleft of my people on earth face.
"I am of those people," she paused, looking at me proudly, "one of the daughtersof the sun king whose seed is still alive in the ladala!"
As Larry opened his mouth to speak she waved a silencing hand.
"This tide did not recede," she went on. "And after a time the remnant, themoon king leading them, joined those who had already fled below. The rocksbecame still, the quakings ceased, and now those Ancient Ones who had beenlabouring could take breath. And anger grew within them as they looked uponthe work of their evil kin. Again they sought the Three— and the Threenow knew what they had done and their pride was humbled. They would not slaythe Shining One themselves, for still they loved it; but they instructedthese others how to undo their work; how also they might destroy the evilTaithu were it necessary.
"Armed with the wisdom of the Three they went forth— but now the ShiningOne was strong indeed. They could not slay it!
"Nay, it knew and was prepared; they could not even pass beyond its Veilnor seal its abode. Ah, strong, strong, mighty of will, full of craft andcunning had the Shining One become. So they turned upon their kind who hadgone astray and made them perish, to the last. The Shining One came not tothe aid of its servants— though they called; for within its will wasthe thought that they were of no further use to it; that it would rest awhileand dance with them— who had so little of the power and wisdom of itsTaithu and therefore no reins upon it. And while this was happeningblack-haired and fair-haired ran and hid and were but shaking vessels ofterror.
"The Ancient Ones took counsel. This was their decision; that they wouldgo from the gardens before the Silver Waters— leaving, since they couldnot kill it, the Shining One with its worshippers. They sealed the mouthof the passage that leads to the Moon Pool Chamber and they changed the faceof the cliff so that none might tell where it had been. But the passage itselfthey left open— having foreknowledge I think, of a thing that was tocome to pass in the far future— perhaps it was your journey here, myLarry and Goodwin— verily I think so. And they destroyed all the wayssave that which we three trod to the Dweller's abode.
"For the last time they went to the Three— to pass sentence upon them.This was the doom— that here they should remain, alone, among theAkka, served by them, until that time dawned when they would havewill to destroy the evil they had created— and even now— loved; normight they seek death, nor follow their judges until this had come to pass.This was the doom they put upon the Three for the wickedness that had sprungfrom their pride, and they strengthened it with their arts that it mightnot be broken.
"Then they passed— to a far land they had chosen where the Shining Onecould not go, beyond the Black Precipices of Doul, a green land——"
"Ireland!" interrupted Larry, with conviction, "I knew it."
"Since then time upon time had passed," she went on, unheeding. "The peoplecalled this place Muria after their sunken land and soon they forgot wherehad been the passage the Taithu had sealed. The moon king became theVoice of the Dweller and always with the Voice is a woman of the moon king'skin who is its priestess.
"And many have been the journeys upward of the Shining One, through the MoonPool— returning with still others in its coils.
"And now again has it grown restless, longing for the wider spaces. It hasspoken to Yolara and to Lugur even as it did to the dead Taithu, promisingthem dominion. And it has grown stronger, drawing to itself power to go faron the moon stream where it will. Thus was it able to seize your friend,Goodwin, and Olaf's wife and babe— and many more. Yolara and Lugur planto open way to earth face; to depart with their court and under the ShiningOne grasp the world!
"And this is the tale the Silent Ones bade me tell you— and it is done."
Breathlessly I had listened to the stupendous epic of a long-lost world.Now I found speech to voice the question ever with me, the thing that layas close to my heart as did the welfare of Larry, indeed the whole objectof my quest— the fate of Throckmartin and those who had passed with himinto the Dweller's lair; yes, and of Olaf's wife, too.
"Lakla," I said, "the friend who drew me here and those he loved who wentbefore him— can we not save them?"
"The Three say no, Goodwin." There was again in her eyes the pity with whichshe had looked upon Olaf. "The Shining One— feeds— upon theflame of life itself, setting in its place its own fires and its own will.Its slaves are only shells through which it gleams. Death, say the Three,is the best that can come to them; yet will that be a boon great indeed."
"But they have souls, mavourneen," Larry said to her. "And they'realive still— in a way. Anyhow, their souls have not gone from them."
I caught a hope from his words— sceptic though I am— holding thatthe existence of soul has never been proved by dependable laboratorymethods— for they recalled to me that when I had seen Throckmartin, Edithhad been close beside him.
"It was days after his wife was taken, that the Dweller seized Throckmartin,"I cried. "How, if their wills, their life, were indeed gone, how did theyfind each other mid all that horde? How did they come together in the Dweller'slair?"
"I do not know," she answered, slowly. "You say they loved— and it istrue that love is stronger even than death!"
"One thing I don't understand"— this was Larry again— "iswhy a girl like you keeps coming out of the black-haired crowd; so frequentlyand one might say, so regularly, Lakla. Aren't there ever any red-headedboys— and if they are what becomes of them?"
"That, Larry, I cannot answer," she said, very frankly. "There was a pactof some kind; how made or by whom I know not. But for long the Murians fearedthe return of the Taithu and greatly they feared the Three. Even theShining One feared those who had created it— for a time; and not evennow is it eager to face them— that I know. Nor are Yolara andLugur so sure. It may be that the Three commanded it; but how or whyI know not. I only know that it is true— for here am I and from whereelse would I have come?"
"From Ireland," said Larry O'Keefe, promptly. "And that's where you're going.For 'tis no place for a girl like you to have been brought up— Lakla;what with people like frogs, and a half-god three quarters devil, and redoceans, an' the only Irish things yourself and the Silent Ones up there,bless their hearts. It's no place for ye, and by the soul of St. Patrick,it's out of it soon ye'll be gettin'!"
Larry! Larry! If it had but been true— and I could see Lakla and youbeside me now!
CHAPTER XXXI
Larry and the Frog-Men
Long had been her tale in the telling, and too long, perhaps, have I beenin the repeating— but not every day are the mists rolled away to revealundreamed secrets of earth-youth. And I have set it down here, adding nothing,taking nothing from it; translating liberally, it is true, but constantlystriving, while putting it into idea-forms and phraseology to be readilyunderstood by my readers, to keep accurately to the spirit. And this, I mustrepeat, I have done throughout my narrative, wherever it has been necessaryto record conversation with the Murians.
Rising, I found I was painfully stiff— as muscle-bound as though I hadactually trudged many miles. Larry, imitating me, gave an involuntary groan.
"Faith, mavourneen," he said to Lakla, relapsing unconsciously intoEnglish, "your roads would never wear out shoe-leather, but they've got theirkick, just the same!"
She understood our plight, if not his words; gave a soft little cry of mingledpity and self-reproach; forced us back upon the cushions.
"Oh, but I'm sorry!" mourned Lakla, leaning over us. "I had forgotten— forthose new to it the way is a weary one, indeed——"
She ran to the doorway, whistled a clear high note down the passage. Throughthe hangings came two of the frog-men. She spoke to them rapidly. They crouchedtoward us, what certainly was meant for an amiable grin wrinkling the grotesquemuzzles, baring the glistening rows of needle-teeth. And while I watchedthem with the fascination that they never lost for me, the monsters calmlyswung one arm around our knees, lifted us up like babies— and as calmlystarted to walk away with us!
"Put me down! Put me down, I say!" The O'Keefe's voice was both outragedand angry; squinting around I saw him struggling violently to get to hisfeet. The Akka only held him tighter, booming comfortingly, peeringdown into his flushed face inquiringly.
"But, Larry— darlin'!"— Lakla's tones were— well, maternallysurprised— "you're stiff and sore, and Kra can carry you quite easily."
"I won't be carried!" sputtered the O'Keefe. "Damn it, Goodwin, thereare such things as the unities even here, an' for a lieutenant of the RoyalAir Force to be picked up an' carted around like a— like a bundle ofrags— it's not discipline! Put me down, ye omadhaun, or I'll pokeye in the snout!" he shouted to his bearer— who only boomed gently, andstared at the handmaiden, plainly for further instructions.
"But, Larry— dear!"— Lakla was plainly distressed— "it willhurt you to walk; and I don't want you to hurt,Larry— darlin'!"
"Holy shade of St. Patrick!" moaned Larry; again he made a mighty effortto tear himself from the frog-man's grip; gave up with a groan. "Listen,alanna!" he said plaintively. "When we get to Ireland, you and I,we won't have anybody to pick us up and carry us about every time we geta bit tired. And it's getting me in bad habits you are!"
"Oh, yes, we will, Larry!" cried the handmaiden, "because many, oh,many, of my Akka will go with us!"
"Will you tell this— boob!— to put me down!" gritted the nowthoroughly aroused O'Keefe. I couldn't help laughing; he glared at me.
"Bo-oo-ob?" exclaimed Lakla.
"Yes, boo-oo-ob!" said O'Keefe, "an' I have no desire to explain the wordin my present position, light of my soul!"
The handmaiden sighed, plainly dejected. But she spoke again to theAkka, who gently lowered the O'Keefe to the floor.
"I don't understand," she said hopelessly, "if you want to walk, why, ofcourse, you shall, Larry." She turned to me. "Do you?" she asked.
"I do not," I said firmly.
"Well, then," murmured Lakla, "go you, Larry and Goodwin, with Kra and Gulk,and let them minister to you. After, sleep a little— for not soon willRador and Olaf return. And let me feel your lips before you go,Larry— darlin'!" She covered his eyes caressingly with her soft littlepalms; pushed him away.
"Now go," said Lakla, "and rest!"
Unashamed I lay back against the horny chest of Gulk; and with a smile noticedthat Larry, even if he had rebelled at being carried, did not disdain thesupport of Kra's shining, black-scaled arm which, slipping around his waist,half-lifted him along.
They parted a hanging and dropped us softly down beside a little pool, sparklingwith the clear water that had heretofore been brought us in the wide basins.Then they began to undress us. And at this point the O'Keefe gave up.
"Whatever they're going to do we can't stop 'em, Doc!" he moaned. "Anyway,I feel as though I've been pulled through a knot-hole, and I don't care— Idon't care— as the song says."
When we were stripped we were lowered gently into the water. But not longdid the Akka let us splash about the shallow basin. They lifted usout, and from jars began deftly to anoint and rub us with aromatic unguents.
I think that in all the medley of grotesque, of tragic, of baffling, strangeand perilous experiences in that underground world none was more bizarrethan this— valeting. I began to laugh, Larry joined me, and then Kraand Gulk joined in our merriment with deep batrachian cachinnations andgruntings. Then, having finished apparelling us and still chuckling, thetwo touched our arms and led us out, into a room whose circular sides wereringed with soft divans. Still smiling, I sank at once into sleep.
How long I slumbered I do not know. A low and thunderous booming coming throughthe deep window slit, reverberated through the room and awakened me. Larryyawned; arose briskly.
"Sounds as though the bass drums of every jazz band in New York were serenadingus!" he observed. Simultaneously we sprang to the window; peered through.
We were a little above the level of the bridge, and its full length was plainbefore us. Thousands upon thousands of the Akka were crowding uponit, and far away other hordes filled like a glittering thicket both sidesof the cavern ledge's crescent strand. On black scale and orange scale thecrimson light fell, picking them off in little flickering points.
Upon the platform from which sprang the smaller span over the abyss wereLakla, Olaf, and Rador; the handmaiden clearly acting as interpreter betweenthem and the giant she had called Nak, the Frog King.
"Come on!" shouted Larry.
Out of the open portal we ran; over the World Heart Bridge— and straightinto the group.
"Oh!" cried Lakla, "I didn't want you to wake up so soon,Larry— darlin'!"
"See here, mavourneen!" Indignation thrilled in the Irishman's voice."I'm not going to be done up with baby-ribbons and laid away in a cradlefor safe-keeping while a fight is on; don't think it. Why didn't you callme?"
"You needed rest!" There was indomitable determination in the handmaiden'stones, the eternal maternal shining defiant from her eyes. "You were tiredand you hurt! You shouldn't have got up!"
"Needed the rest!" groaned Larry. "Look here, Lakla, what do you think Iam?"
"You're all I have," said that maiden firmly, "and I'm going to take careof you, Larry— darlin'! Don't you ever think anything else."
"Well, pulse of my heart, considering my delicate health and general fragility,would it hurt me, do you think, to be told what's going on?" he asked.
"Not at all, Larry!" answered the handmaiden serenely. "Yolara went throughthe Portal. She was very, very angry——"
"She was all the devil's woman that she is!" rumbled Olaf.
"Rador met the messenger," went on the Golden Girl calmly. "The ladalaare ready to rise when Lugur and Yolara lead their hosts against us. Theywill strike at those left behind. And in the meantime we shall have disposedmy Akka to meet Yolara's men. And on that disposal we must all takecounsel, you, Larry, and Rador, Olaf and Goodwin and Nak, the ruler of theAkka."
"Did the messenger give any idea when Yolara expects to make her little call?"asked Larry.
"Yes," she answered. "They prepare, and we may expect them in——"She gave the equivalent of about thirty-six hours of our time.
"But, Lakla," I said, the doubt that I had long been holding finding voice,"should the Shining One come— with its slaves— are the Three strongenough to cope with it?"
There was troubled doubt in her own eyes.
"I do not know," she said at last, frankly. "You have heard their story.What they promise is that they will help. I do not know— any more thando you, Goodwin!"
I looked up at the dome beneath which I knew the dread Trinity stared forth;even down upon us. And despite the awe, the assurance, I had felt when Istood before them I, too, doubted.
"Well," said Larry, "you and I, uncle," he turned to Rador, "and Olaf herehad better decide just what part of the battle we'll lead——"
"Lead!" the handmaiden was appalled. "You lead, Larry? Why you areto stay with Goodwin and with me— up there, there we can watch."
"Heart's beloved," O'Keefe was stern indeed. "A thousand times I've lookedDeath straight in the face, peered into his eyes. Yes, and with ten thousandfeet of space under me an' bursting shells tickling the ribs of the boatI was in. An' d'ye think I'll sit now on the grandstand an' watch while agame like this is being pulled? Ye don't know your future husband, soul ofmy delight!"
And so we started toward the golden opening, squads of the frog-men followingus soldierly and disappearing about the huge structure. Nor did we stop untilwe came to the handmaiden's boudoir. There we seated ourselves.
"Now," said Larry, "two things I want to know. First— how many can Yolaramuster against us; second, how many of these Akka have we to meetthem?"
Rador gave our equivalent for eighty thousand men as the force Yolara couldmuster without stripping her city. Against this force, it appeared, we couldcount, roughly, upon two hundred thousand of the Akka.
"And they're some fighters!" exclaimed Larry. "Hell, with odds like thatwhat're you worrying about? It's over before it's begun."
"But, Larree," objected Rador to this, "you forget that the nobleswill have the Keth— and other things; also that the soldiers havefought against the Akka before and will be shielded very well fromtheir spears and clubs— and that their blades and javelins can bite throughthe scales of Nak's warriors. They have many things——"
"Uncle," interjected O'Keefe, "one thing they have is your nerve. Why, we'remore than two to one. And take it from me——"
Without warning dropped the tragedy!
CHAPTER XXXII
"Your Love; Your Lives; Your Souls!"
Lakla had taken no part in the talk since we had reached her bower. She hadseated herself close to the O'Keefe. Glancing at her I had seen steal overher face that brooding, listening look that was hers whenever in that mysteriouscommunion with the Three. It vanished; swiftly she arose; interrupted theIrishman without ceremony.
"Larry darlin'," said the handmaiden. "The Silent Ones summon us!"
"When do we go?" I asked; Larry's face grew bright with interest.
"The time is now," she said— and hesitated. "Larry dear, put your armsabout me," she faltered, "for there is something cold that catches at myheart— and I am afraid."
At his exclamation she gathered herself together; gave a shaky little laugh.
"It's because I love you so that fear has power to plague me," she told him.
Without another word he bent and kissed her; in silence we passed on, hisarm still about her girdled waist, golden head and black close together.Soon we stood before the crimson slab that was the door to the sanctuaryof the Silent Ones. She poised uncertainly before it; then with a defiantarching of the proud little head that sent all the bronze-flecked curls flying,she pressed. It slipped aside and once more the opalescence gushed out, floodingall about us.
Dazzled as before, I followed through the lambent cascades pouring from thehigh, carved walls; paused, and my eyes clearing, looked up— straightinto the faces of the Three. The angled orbs centred upon the handmaiden;softened as I had seen them do when first we had faced them. She smiled up;seemed to listen.
"Come closer," she commanded, "close to the feet of the Silent Ones."
We moved, pausing at the very base of the dais. The sparkling mists thinned;the great heads bent slightly over us; through the veils I caught a glimpseof huge columnar necks, enormous shoulders covered with draperies as of pale-bluefire.
I came back to attention with a start, for Lakla was answering a questiononly heard by her, and, answering it aloud, I perceived for our benefit;for whatever was the mode of communication between those whose handmaidenshe was, and her, it was clearly independent of speech.
"He has been told," she said, "even as you commanded."
Did I see a shadow of pain flit across the flickering eyes? Wondering, Iglanced at Lakla's face and there was a dawn of foreboding and bewilderment.For a little she held her listening attitude; then the gaze of the Threeleft her; focused upon the O'Keefe.
"Thus speak the Silent Ones— through Lakla, their handmaiden," the goldenvoice was like low trumpet notes. "At the threshold of doom is that worldof yours above. Yea, even the doom, Goodwin, that ye dreamed and the shadowof which, looking into your mind they see, say the Three. For not upon earthand never upon earth can man find means to destroy the Shining One."
She listened again— and the foreboding deepened to an amazed fear.
"They say, the Silent Ones," she went on, "that they know not whether eventhey have power to destroy. Energies we know nothing of entered into itsshaping and are part of it; and still other energies it has gathered toitself"— she paused; a shadow of puzzlement crept into her voice— "andother energies still, forces that ye do know and symbolize by certainnames— hatred and pride and lust and many others which are forces realas that hidden in the Keth; and among them— fear, which weakensall those others——" Again she paused.
"But within it is nothing of that greatest of all, that which can make powerlessall the evil others, that which we call— love," she ended softly.
"I'd like to be the one to put a little more fear in the beast," whisperedLarry to me, grimly in our own English. The three weird heads bent, everso slightly— and I gasped, and Larry grew a little white as Laklanodded——
"They say, Larry," she said, "that there you touch one side of the heartof the matter— for it is through the way of fear the Silent Ones hopeto strike at the very life of the Shining One!"
The visage Larry turned to me was eloquent of wonder; and mine reflectedit— for what really were this Three to whom our minds were butopen pages, so easily read? Not long could we conjecture; Lakla broke thelittle silence.
"This, they say, is what is to happen. First will come upon us Lugur andYolara with all their host. Because of fear the Shining One will lurk behindwithin its lair; for despite all, the Dweller does dread the Three,and only them. With this host the Voice and the priestess will strive toconquer. And if they do, then will they be strong enough, too, to destroyus all. For if they take the abode they banish from the Dweller all fearand sound the end of the Three.
"Then will the Shining One be all free indeed; free to go out into the world,free to do there as it wills!
"But if they do not conquer— and the Shining One comes not to their aid,abandoning them even as it abandoned its own Taithu— then willthe Three be loosed from a part of their doom, and they will go through thePortal, seek the Shining One beyond the Veil, and, piercing it through fear'sopening, destroy it."
"That's quite clear," murmured the O'Keefe in my ear. "Weaken themorale— then smash. I've seen it happen a dozen times in Europe. Whilethey've got their nerve there's not a thing you can do; get their nerve— andnot a thing can they do. And yet in both cases they're the same men."
Lakla had been listening again. She turned, thrust out hands to Larry, awild hope in her eyes— and yet a hope half shamed.
"They say," she cried, "that they give us choice. Remembering that your worlddoom hangs in the balance, we have choice— choice to stay and help fightYolara's armies— and they say they look not lightly on that help. Orchoice to go— and if so be you choose the latter, then will they showanother way that leads into your world!"
A flush had crept over the O'Keefe's face as she was speaking. He took herhands and looked long into the golden eyes; glancing up I saw the Trinitywere watching them intently— imperturbably.
"What do you say, mavourneen?" asked Larry gently. The handmaidenhung her head; trembled.
"Your words shall be mine, O one I love," she whispered. "So going or staying,I am beside you."
"And you, Goodwin?" he turned to me. I shrugged my shoulders— after allI had no one to care.
"It's up to you, Larry," I remarked, deliberately choosing his own phraseology.
The O'Keefe straightened, squared his shoulders, gazed straight into theflame-flickering eyes.
"We stick!" he said briefly.
Shamefacedly I recall now that at the time I thought this colloquialism notonly irreverent, but in somewhat bad taste. I am glad to say I was alonein that bit of weakness. The face that Lakla turned to Larry was radiantwith love, and although the shamed hope had vanished from the sweet eyes,they were shining with adoring pride. And the marble visages of the Threesoftened, and the little flames died down.
"Wait," said Lakla, "there is one other thing they say we must answer beforethey will hold us to that promise— wait——"
She listened, and then her face grew white— white as those of the Threethemselves; the glorious eyes widened, stark terror filling them; the wholelithe body of her shook like a reed in the wind.
"Not that!" she cried out to the Three. "Oh, not that! Not Larry— letme go even as you will— but not him!" She threw up frantic hands to thewoman-being of the Trinity. "Let me bear it alone," she wailed."Alone— mother! Mother!"
The Three bent their heads toward her, their faces pitiful, and from theeyes of the woman One rolled— tears! Larry leaped to Lakla's side.
"Mavourneen!" he cried. "Sweetheart, what have they said to you?"
He glared up at the Silent Ones, his hand twitching toward the high-hungpistol holster.
The handmaiden swung to him; threw white arms around his neck; held her headupon his heart until her sobbing ceased.
"This they— say— the Silent Ones," she gasped and then all the courageof her came back. "O heart of mine!" she whispered to Larry, gazing deepinto his eyes, his anxious face cupped between her white palms. "This theysay— that should the Shining One come to succour Yolara and Lugur, shouldit conquer its fear— and— do this— then is there but one wayleft to destroy it— and to save your world."
She swayed; he gripped her tightly.
"But one way— you and I must go— together— into its embrace!Yea, we must pass within it— loving each other, loving the world, realizingto the full all that we sacrifice and sacrificing all, our love, our lives,perhaps even that you call soul, O loved one; must give ourselves allto the Shining One— gladly, freely, our love for each other flaming highwithin us— that this curse shall pass away! For if we do this, pledgethe Three, then shall that power of love we carry into it weaken for a timeall that evil which the Shining One has become— and in that time theThree can strike and slay!"
The blood rushed from my heart; scientist that I am, essentially, my reasonrejected any such solution as this of the activities of the Dweller. Wasit not, the thought flashed, a propitiation by the Three out of their ownweakness— and as it flashed I looked up to see their eyes, full of sorrow,on mine— and knew they read the thought. Then into the whirling vortexof my mind came steadying reflections— of history changed by the powerof hate, of passion, of ambition, and most of all, by love. Was there notactual dynamic energy in these things— was there not a Son of Man whohung upon a cross on Calvary?
"Dear love o' mine," said the O'Keefe quietly, "is it in your heart to sayyes to this?"
"Larry," she spoke low, "what is in your heart is in mine; but I did so wantto go with you, to live with you— to— to bear you children,Larry— and to see the sun."
My eyes were wet; dimly through them I saw his gaze on me.
"If the world is at stake," he whispered, "why of course there's onlyone thing to do. God knows I never was afraid when I was fighting upthere— and many a better man than me has gone West with shell and bulletfor the same idea; but these things aren't shell and bullet— but I hadn'tLakla then— and it's the damned doubt I have behind it all."
He turned to the Three— and did I in their poise sense a rigidity, ananxiety that sat upon them as alienly as would divinity upon men?
"Tell me this, Silent Ones," he cried. "If we do this, Lakla and I, is itsure you are that you can slay the— Thing, and save my world?Is it sure you are?"
For the first and the last time, I heard the voice of the Silent Ones. Itwas the man-being at the right who spoke.
"We are sure," the tones rolled out like deepest organ notes, shaking, vibrating,assailing the ears as strangely as their appearance struck the eyes. Anothermoment the O'Keefe stared at them. Once more he squared his shoulders; liftedLakla's chin and smiled into her eyes.
"We stick!" he said again, nodding to the Three.
Over the visages of the Trinity fell benignity that was— awesome; thetiny flames in the jet orbs vanished, leaving them wells in which brimmedserenity, hope— an extraordinary joyfulness. The woman sat upright, tendergaze fixed upon the man and girl. Her great shoulders raised as though shehad lifted her arms and had drawn to her those others. The three faces pressedtogether for a fleeting moment; raised again. The woman bent forward— andas she did so, Lakla and Larry, as though drawn by some outer force, wereswept upon the dais.
Out from the sparkling mist stretched two hands, enormously long, six-fingered,thumbless, a faint tracery of golden scales upon their white backs, utterlyunhuman and still in some strange way beautiful, radiating power and— allwomanly!
They stretched forth; they touched the bent heads of Lakla and the O'Keefe;caressed them, drew them together, softly stroked them— lovingly, withmore than a touch of benediction. And withdrew!
The sparkling mists rolled up once more, hiding the Silent Ones. As silentlyas once before we had gone we passed out of the place of light, beyond thecrimson stone, back to the handmaiden's chamber.
Only once on our way did Larry speak.
"Cheer up, darlin'," he said to her, "it's a long way yet before the finish.An' are you thinking that Lugur and Yolara are going to pull this thing off?Are you?"
The handmaiden only looked at him, eyes love and sorrow filled.
"They are!" said Larry. "They are! Like hell they are!"
CHAPTER XXXIII
The Meeting of Titans
It is not my intention, nor is it possible no matter how interesting to me,to set down ad seriatim the happenings of the next twelve hours. Buta few will not be denied recital.
O'Keefe regained cheerfulness.
"After all, Doc," he said to me, "it's a beautiful scrap we're going to have.At the worst the worst is no more than the leprechaun warned about. I wouldhave told the Taitha De about the banshee raid he promised me; but I wasa bit taken off my feet at the time. The old girl an' all the clan'll bealong, said the little green man, an' I bet the Three will be damned gladof it, take it from me."
Lakla, shining-eyed and half fearful too:
"I have other tidings that I am afraid will please you little,Larry— darlin'. The Silent Ones say that you must not go into battleyourself. You must stay here with me, and with Goodwin— forif— if— the Shining One does come, then must we be here to meet it.And you might not be, you know, Larry, if you fight," she said, looking shylyup at him from under the long lashes.
The O'Keefe's jaw dropped.
"That's about the hardest yet," he answered slowly. "Still— I see theirpoint; the lamb corralled for the altar has no right to stray out among thelions," he added grimly. "Don't worry, sweet," he told her. "As long as I'vesat in the game I'll stick to the rules."
Olaf took fierce joy in the coming fray.
"The Norns spin close to the end of this web," he rumbled. "Ja! Andthe threads of Lugur and the Heks woman are between their fingers for thebreaking! Thor will be with me, and I have fashioned me a hammer in gloryof Thor." In his hand was an enormous mace of black metal, fully five feetlong, crowned with a massive head.
I pass to the twelve hours' closing.
At the end of the coria road where the giant fernland met the edgeof the cavern's ruby floor, hundreds of the Akka were stationed inambush, armed with their spears tipped with the rotting death and theirnail-studded, metal-headed clubs. These were to attack when the Murians debauchedfrom the corials. We had little hope of doing more here than effectsome attrition of Yolara's hosts, for at this place the captains of the ShiningOne could wield the Keth and their other uncanny weapons freely. Wehad learned, too, that every forge and artisan had been put to work to makean armour Marakinoff had devised to withstand the natural battle equipmentof the frog-people— and both Larry and I had a disquieting faith in theRussian's ingenuity.
At any rate the numbers against us would be lessened.
Next, under the direction of the frog-king, levies commanded by subsidiarychieftains had completed rows of rough walls along the probable route ofthe Murians through the cavern. These afforded the Akka a fair protectionbehind which they could hurl their darts and spears— curiously enoughthey had never developed the bow as a weapon.
At the opening of the cavern a strong barricade stretched almost to the twoends of the crescent strand; almost, I say, because there had not been timeto build it entirely across the mouth.
And from edge to edge of the titanic bridge, from where it sprang outwardat the shore of the Crimson Sea to a hundred feet away from the golden doorof the abode, barrier after barrier was piled.
Behind the wall defending the mouth of the cavern, waited other thousandsof the Akka. At each end of the unfinished barricade they were musteredthickly, and at right and left of the crescent where their forest began,more legions were assembled to make way up to the ledge as opportunity offered.
Rank upon rank they manned the bridge barriers; they swarmed over the pinnaclesand in the hollows of the island's ragged outer lip; the domed castle wasa hive of them, if I may mix my metaphors— and the rocks and gardensthat surrounded the abode glittered with them.
"Now," said the handmaiden, "there's nothing else we can do— save wait."
She led us out through her bower and up the little path that ran to theembrasure.
Through the quiet came a sound, a sighing, a half-mournful whispering thatbeat about us and fled away.
"They come!" cried Lakla, the light of battle in her eyes. Larry drew herto him, raised her in his arms, kissed her.
"A woman!" acclaimed the O'Keefe. "A real woman— and mine!"
With the cry of the Portal there was movement among the Akka, theglint of moving spears, flash of metal-tipped clubs, rattle of horny spurs,rumblings of battle-cries.
And we waited— waited it seemed interminably, gaze fastened upon thelow wall across the cavern mouth. Suddenly I remembered the crystal throughwhich I had peered when the hidden assassins had crept upon us. Mentioningit to Lakla, she gave a little cry of vexation, a command to her attendant;and not long that faithful if unusual lady had returned with a tray of theglasses. Raising mine, I saw the lines furthest away leap into sudden activity.Spurred warrior after warrior leaped upon the barricade and over it. Flashesof intense green light, mingled with gleams like lightning strokes ofconcentrated moon rays, sprang from behind the wall— sprang and struckand burned upon the scales of the batrachians.
"They come!" whispered Lakla.
At the far ends of the crescent a terrific milling had begun. Here it wasplain the Akka were holding. Faintly, for the distance was great,I could see fresh force upon force rush up and take the places of those whohad fallen.
Over each of these ends, and along the whole line of the barricade a mistof dancing, diamonded atoms began to rise; sparking, coruscating points ofdiamond dust that darted and danced.
What had once been Lakla's guardians— dancing now in the nothingness!
"God, but it's hard to stay here like this!" groaned the O'Keefe; Olaf'steeth were bared, the lips drawn back in such a fighting grin as his ancestorsberserk on their raven ships must have borne; Rador was livid with rage;the hand-maiden's nostrils flaring wide, all her wrathful soul in her eyes.
Suddenly, while we looked, the rocky wall which the Akka had builtat the cavern mouth— was not! It vanished, as though an unseen, unbelievablygigantic hand had with the lightning's speed swept it away. And with it vanished,too, long lines of the great amphibians close behind it.
Then down upon the ledge, dropping into the Crimson Sea, sending up geysersof ruby spray, dashing on the bridge, crushing the frog-men, fell a showerof stone, mingled with distorted shapes and fragments whose scales stillflashed meteoric as they hurled from above.
"That which makes things fall upward," hissed Olaf. "That which I saw inthe garden of Lugur!"
The fiendish agency of destruction which Marakinoff had revealed to Larry;the force that cut off gravitation and sent all things within its range racingoutward into space!
And now over the debris upon the ledge, striking with long sword and daggers,here and there a captain flashing the green ray, moving on in ordered squares,came the soldiers of the Shining One. Nearer and nearer the verge of theledge they pushed Nak's warriors. Leaping upon the dwarfs, smiting them withspear and club, with teeth and spur, the Akka fought like devils.Quivering under the ray, they leaped and dragged down and slew.
Now there was but one long line of the frog-men at the very edge of the cliff.
And ever the clouds of dancing, diamonded atoms grew thicker over them all!
That last thin line of the Akka was going; yet they fought to thelast, and none toppled over the lip without at least one of the armouredMurians in his arms.
My gaze dropped to the foot of the cliffs. Stretched along their length wasa wide ribbon of beauty— a shimmering multitude of gleaming, pulsing,prismatic moons; glowing, glowing ever brighter, ever more wondrous— thegigantic Medusae globes feasting on dwarf and frog-man alike!
Across the waters, faintly, came a triumphant shouting from Lugur's and Yolara'smen!
Was the ruddy light of the place lessening, growing paler, changing to afaint rose? There was an exclamation from Larry; something like hope relaxedthe drawn muscles of his face. He pointed to the aureate dome wherein satthe Three— and then I saw!
Out of it, through the long transverse slit through which the Silent Oneskept their watch on cavern, bridge, and abyss, a torrent of the opalescentlight was pouring. It cascaded like a waterfall, and as it flowed it spreadwhirling out, in columns and eddies, clouds and wisps of misty, curdledcoruscations. It hung like a veil over all the islands, filtering everywhere,driving back the crimson light as though possessed of impenetrablesubstance— and still it cast not the faintest shadowing upon our vision.
"Good God!" breathed Larry. "Look!"
The radiance was marching— marching— down the colossal bridge.It moved swiftly, in some unthinkable way intelligently. It swathedthe Akka, and closer, ever closer it swept toward the approach uponwhich Yolara's men had now gained foothold.
From their ranks came flash after flash of the green ray— aimed at theabode! But as the light sped and struck the opalescence it was blotted out!The shimmering mists seemed to enfold, to dissipate it.
Lakla drew a deep breath.
"The Silent Ones forgive me for doubting them," she whispered; and againhope blossomed on her face even as it did on Larry's.
The frog-men were gaining. Clothed in the armour of that mist, they pressedback from the bridge-head the invaders. There was another prodigious movementat the ends of the crescent, and racing up, pressing against the dwarfs,came other legions of Nak's warriors. And re-enforcing those out on theprodigious arch, the frog-men stationed in the gardens below us poured backto the castle and out through the open Portal.
"They're licked!" shouted Larry. "They're——"
So quickly I could not follow the movement his automatic leaped to hishand— spoke, once and again and again. Rador leaped to the head of thelittle path, sword in hand; Olaf, shouting and whirling his mace, followed.I strove to get my own gun quickly.
For up that path were running twoscore of Lugur's men, while from below Lugur'sown voice roared.
"Quick! Slay not the handmaiden or her lover! Carry them down. Quick! Butslay the others!"
The handmaiden raced toward Larry, stopped, whistled shrilly— again andagain. Larry's pistol was empty, but as the dwarfs rushed upon him I droppedtwo of them with mine. It jammed— I could not use it; I sprang to hisside. Rador was down, struggling in a heap of Lugur's men. Olaf, a Vikingof old, was whirling his great hammer, and striking, striking through armour,flesh, and bone.
Larry was down, Lakla flew to him. But the Norseman, now streaming bloodfrom a dozen wounds, caught a glimpse of her coming, turned, thrust out amighty hand, sent her reeling back, and then with his hammer cracked theskulls of those trying to drag the O'Keefe down the path.
A cry from Lakla— the dwarfs had seized her, had lifted her despite herstruggles, were carrying her away. One I dropped with the butt of my uselesspistol, and then went down myself under the rush of another.
Through the clamour I heard a booming of the Akka, closer, closer;then through it the bellow of Lugur. I made a mighty effort, swung a handup, and sunk my fingers in the throat of the soldier striving to kill me.Writhing over him, my fingers touched a poniard; I thrust it deep, staggeredto my feet.
The O'Keefe, shielding Lakla, was battling with a long sword against a halfdozen of the soldiers. I started toward him, was struck, and under the impacthurled to the ground. Dizzily I raised myself— and leaning upon my elbow,stared and moved no more. For the dwarfs lay dead, and Larry, holding Laklatightly, was staring even as I, and ranged at the head of the path were theAkka, whose booming advance in obedience to the handmaiden's callI had heard.
And at what we all stared was Olaf, crimson with his wounds, and Lugur, inblood-red armour, locked in each other's grip, struggling, smiting, tearing,kicking, and swaying about the little space before the embrasure. I crawledover toward the O'Keefe. He raised his pistol, dropped it.
"Can't hit him without hitting Olaf," he whispered. Lakla signalled the frog-men;they advanced toward the two— but Olaf saw them, broke the red dwarf'shold, sent Lugur reeling a dozen feet away.
"No!" shouted the Norseman, the ice of his pale-blue eyes glinting like frozenflames, blood streaming down his face and dripping from his hands. "No! Luguris mine! None but me slays him! Ho, you Lugur——" and cursed himand Yolara and the Dweller hideously— I cannot set those curses downhere.
They spurred Lugur. Mad now as the Norseman, the red dwarf sprang. Olaf strucka blow that would have killed an ordinary man, but Lugur only grunted, sweptin, and seized him about the waist; one mighty arm began to creep up towardHuldricksson's throat.
"'Ware, Olaf!" cried O'Keefe; but Olaf did not answer. He waited until thered dwarf's hand was close to his shoulder; and then, with an incrediblyrapid movement— once before had I seen something like it in a wrestlingmatch between Papuans— he had twisted Lugur around; twisted him so thatOlaf's right arm lay across the tremendous breast, the left behind the neck,and Olaf's left leg held the Voice's armoured thighs viselike against hisright knee while over that knee lay the small of the red dwarf's back.
For a second or two the Norseman looked down upon his enemy, motionless inthat paralyzing grip. And then— slowly— he began to break him!
Lakla gave a little cry; made a motion toward the two. But Larry drew herhead down against his breast, hiding her eyes; then fastened his own uponthe pair, white-faced, stern.
Slowly, ever so slowly, proceeded Olaf. Twice Lugur moaned. At the end hescreamed— horribly. There was a cracking sound, as of a stout stick snapped.
Huldricksson stooped, silently. He picked up the limp body of the Voice,not yet dead, for the eyes rolled, the lips strove to speak; lifted it, walkedto the parapet, swung it twice over his head, and cast it down to the redwaters!
CHAPTER XXXIV
The Coming of the Shining One
The Norseman turned toward us. There was now no madness in his eyes; onlya great weariness. And there was peace on the once tortured face.
"Helma," he whispered, "I go a little before! Soon you will come to me— tome and the Yndling who will await you— Helma, mine liebe!"
Blood gushed from his mouth; he swayed, fell. And thus died Olaf Huldricksson.
We looked down upon him; nor did Lakla, nor Larry, nor I try to hide ourtears. And as we stood the Akka brought to us that other mighty fighter,Rador; but in him there was life, and we attended to him there as best wecould.
Then Lakla spoke.
"We will bear him into the castle where we may give him greater care," shesaid. "For, lo! the hosts of Yolara have been beaten back; and on the bridgecomes Nak with tidings."
We looked over the parapet. It was even as she had said. Neither on ledgenor bridge was there trace of living men of Muria— only heaps of slainthat lay everywhere— and thick against the cavern mouth still dancedthe flashing atoms of those the green ray had destroyed.
"Over!" exclaimed Larry incredulously. "We live then— heart of mine!"
"The Silent Ones recall their veils," she said, pointing to the dome. Backthrough the slitted opening the radiance was streaming; withdrawing fromsea and island; marching back over the bridge with that same ordered, intelligentmotion. Behind it the red light pressed, like skirmishers on the heels ofa retreating army.
"And yet——" faltered the handmaiden as we passed into her chamber,and doubtful were the eyes she turned upon the O'Keefe.
"I don't believe," he said, "there's a kick left in them——"
What was that sound beating into the chamber faintly, so faintly? My heartgave a great throb and seemed to stop for an eternity. What was it— comingnearer, ever nearer? Now Lakla and O'Keefe heard it, life ebbing from lipsand cheeks.
Nearer, nearer— a music as of myriads of tiny crystal bells, tinkling,tinkling— a storm of pizzicati upon violins of glass! Nearer,nearer— not sweetly now, nor luring; no— raging, wrathful, sinisterbeyond words; sweeping on; nearer——
The Dweller! The Shining One!
We leaped to the narrow window; peered out, aghast. The bell notes sweptthrough and about us, a hurricane. The crescent strand was once more a ferment.Back, back were the Akka being swept, as though by brooms, totteringon the edge of the ledge, falling into the waters. Swiftly they were finished;and where they had fought was an eddying throng clothed in tatters or naked,swaying, drifting, arms tossing— like marionettes of Satan.
The dead-alive! The slaves of the Dweller!
They swayed and tossed, and then, like water racing through an opened dam,they swept upon the bridge-head. On and on they pushed, like the bore ofa mighty tide. The frog-men strove against them, clubbing, spearing, tearingthem. But even those worst smitten seemed not to fall. On they pushed, drivingforward, irresistible— a battering ram of flesh and bone. They clovethe masses of the Akka, pressing them to the sides of the bridge andover. Through the open gates they forced them— for there was no roomfor the frog-men to stand against that implacable tide.
Then those of the Akka who were left turned their backs and ran. Weheard the clang of the golden wings of the portal, and none too soon to keepout the first of the Dweller's dreadful hordes.
Now upon the cavern ledge and over the whole length of the bridge there werenone but the dead-alive, men and women, black-polled ladala, sloe-eyedMalays, slant-eyed Chinese, men of every race that sailed the seas— milling,turning, swaying, like leaves caught in a sluggish current.
The bell notes became sharper, more insistent. At the cavern mouth a radiancebegan to grow— a gleaming from which the atoms of diamond dust seemedto try to flee. As the radiance grew and the crystal notes rang nearer, everyhead of that hideous multitude turned stiffly, slowly toward the right, lookingtoward the far bridge end; their eyes fixed and glaring; every face an inhumanmask of rapture and of horror!
A movement shook them. Those in the centre began to stream back, faster andever faster, leaving motionless deep ranks on each side. Back they floweduntil from golden doors to cavern mouth a wide lane stretched, walled oneach side by the dead-alive.
The far radiance became brighter; it gathered itself at the end of the dreadfullane; it was shot with sparklings and with pulsings of polychromatic light.The crystal storm was intolerable, piercing the ears with countless tinylances; brighter still the radiance——
From the cavern swirled the Shining One!
The Dweller paused, seemed to scan the island of the Silent Ones half doubtfully;then slowly, stately, it drifted out upon the bridge. Closer it drew; behindit glided Yolara at the head of a company of her dwarfs, and at her sidewas the hag of the Council whose face was the withered, shattered echo ofher own.
Slower grew the Dweller's pace as it drew nearer. Did I sense in it a doubt,an uncertainty? The crystal-tongued, unseen choristers that accompanied itsubtly seemed to reflect the doubt; their notes were not sure, no longerinsistent; rather was there in them an undertone of hesitancy, of warning!Yet on came the Shining One until it stood plain beneath us, searching withthose eyes that thrust from and withdrew into unknown spheres, the goldengateway, the cliff face, the castle's rounded bulk— and more intentlythan any of these, the dome wherein sat the Three.
Behind it each face of the dead-alive turned toward it, and those besideit throbbed and gleamed with its luminescence.
Yolara crept close, just beyond the reach of its spirals. She murmured— andthe Dweller bent toward her, its seven globes steady in their shining mists,as though listening. It drew erect once more, resumed its doubtful scrutiny.Yolara's face darkened; she turned abruptly, spoke to a captain of her guards.A dwarf raced back between the palisades of dead-alive.
Now the priestess cried out, her voice ringing like a silver clarion.
"Ye are done, ye Three! The Shining One stands at your door, demanding entrance.Your beasts are slain and your power is gone. Who are ye, says the ShiningOne, to deny it entrance to the place of its birth?"
"Ye do not answer," she cried again, "yet know we that ye hear! The ShiningOne offers these terms: Send forth your handmaiden and that lying strangershe stole; send them forth to us— and perhaps ye may live. But if yesend them not forth, then shall ye too die— and soon!"
We waited, silent, even as did Yolara— and again there was no answerfrom the Three.
The priestess laughed; the blue eyes flashed.
"It is ended!" she cried. "If you will not open, needs must we open for you!"
Over the bridge was marching a long double file of the dwarfs. They borea smoothed and handled tree-trunk whose head was knobbed with a huge ballof metal. Past the priestess, past the Shining One, they carried it; fiftyof them to each side of the ram; and behind them stepped— Marakinoff!
Larry awoke to life.
"Now, thank God," he rasped, "I can get that devil, anyway!"
He drew his pistol, took careful aim. Even as he pressed the trigger thererang through the abode a tremendous clanging. The ram was battering at thegates. O'Keefe's bullet went wild. The Russian must have heard the shot;perhaps the missile was closer than we knew. He made a swift leap behindthe guards; was lost to sight.
Once more the thunderous clanging rang through the castle.
Lakla drew herself erect; down upon her dropped the listening aloofness.Gravely she bowed her head.
"It is time, O love of mine." She turned to O'Keefe. "The Silent Ones saythat the way of fear is closed, but the way of love is open. They call uponus to redeem our promise!"
For a hundred heart-beats they clung to each other, breast to breast andlip to lip. Below, the clangour was increasing, the great trunk swingingharder and faster upon the metal gates. Now Lakla gently loosed the armsof the O'Keefe, and for another instant those two looked into each other'ssouls. The handmaiden smiled tremulously.
"I would it might have been otherwise, Larry darlin'," she whispered. "Butat least— we pass together, dearest of mine!"
She leaped to the window.
"Yolara!" the golden voice rang out sweetly. The clanging ceased. "Draw backyour men. We open the Portal and come forth to you and the ShiningOne— Larry and I."
The priestess's silver chimes of laughter rang out, cruel, mocking.
"Come, then, quickly," she jeered. "For surely both the Shining One and Iyearn for you!" Her malice-laden laughter chimed high once more. "Keep usnot lonely long!" the priestess mocked.
Larry drew a deep breath, stretched both hands out to me.
"It's good-by, I guess, Doc." His voice was strained. "Good-by and good luck,old boy. If you get out, and you will, let the old Dolphinknow I'm gone. And carry on, pal— and always remember the O'Keefe lovedyou like a brother."
I squeezed his hands desperately. Then out of my balance-shaking woe a strangecomfort was born.
"Maybe it's not good-by, Larry!" I cried. "The banshee has not cried!"
A flash of hope passed over his face; the old reckless grin shone forth.
"It's so!" he said. "By the Lord, it's so!"
Then Lakla bent toward me, and for the second time— kissed me.
"Come!" she said to Larry. Hand in hand they moved away, into the corridorthat led to the door outside of which waited the Shining One and its priestess.
And unseen by them, wrapped as they were within their love and sacrifice,I crept softly behind. For I had determined that if enter the Dweller's embracethey must, they should not go alone.
They paused before the Golden Portals; the handmaiden pressed its openinglever; the massive leaves rolled back.
Heads high, proudly, serenely, they passed through and out upon the hitherspan. I followed.
On each side of us stood the Dweller's slaves, faces turned rigidly towardtheir master. A hundred feet away the Shining One pulsed and spiralled inits evilly glorious lambency of sparkling plumes.
Unhesitating, always with that same high serenity, Lakla and the O'Keefe,hands clasped like little children, drew closer to that wondrous shape. Icould not see their faces, but I saw awe fall upon those of the watchingdwarfs, and into the burning eyes of Yolara crept a doubt. Closer they drewto the Dweller, and closer, I following them step by step. The Shining One'swhirling lessened; its tinklings were faint, almost stilled. It seemed towatch them apprehensively. A silence fell upon us all, a thick silence, brooding,ominous, palpable. Now the pair were face to face with the child of theThree— so near that with one of its misty tentacles it could have enfoldedthem.
And the Shining One drew back!
Yes, drew back— and back with it stepped Yolara, the doubt in her eyesdeepening. Onward paced the handmaiden and the O'Keefe— and step by step,as they advanced, the Dweller withdrew; its bell notes chiming out, puzzledquestioning— half fearful!
And back it drew, and back until it had reached the very centre of that platformover the abyss in whose depths pulsed the green fires of earth heart. Andthere Yolara gripped herself; the hell that seethed within her soul leapedout of her eyes, a cry, a shriek of rage, tore from her lips.
As at a signal, the Shining One flamed high; its spirals and eddying mistsswirled madly, the pulsing core of it blazed radiance. A score of coruscatingtentacles swept straight upon the pair who stood intrepid, unresisting, awaitingits embrace. And upon me, lurking behind them.
Through me swept a mighty exaltation. It was the end then— and I wasto meet it with them.
Something drew us back, back with an incredible swiftness, and yet as gentlyas a summer breeze sweeps a bit of thistle-down! Drew us back from thosedarting misty arms even as they were a hair-breadth from us! I heard theDweller's bell notes burst out ragingly! I heard Yolara scream.
What was that?
Between the three of us and them was a ring of curdled moon flames, swirlingabout the Shining One and its priestess, pressing in upon them, enfoldingthem!
And within it I glimpsed the faces of the Three— implacable, sorrowful,filled with a supernal power!
Sparks and flashes of white flame darted from the ring, penetrating the radiantswathings of the Dweller, striking through its pulsing nucleus, piercingits seven crowning orbs.
Now the Shining One's radiance began to dim, the seven orbs to dull; thetiny sparkling filaments that ran from them down into the Dweller's bodysnapped, vanished! Through the battling nebulosities Yolara's face swamforth— horror-filled, distorted, inhuman!
The ranks of the dead-alive quivered, moved, writhed, as though each feltthe torment of the Thing that had enslaved them. The radiance that the Threewielded grew more intense, thicker, seemed to expand. Within it, suddenly,were scores of flaming triangles— scores of eyes like those of the SilentOnes!
And the Shining One's seven little moons of amber, of silver, of blue andamethyst and green, of rose and white, split, shattered, were gone! Abruptlythe tortured crystal chimings ceased.
Dulled, all its soul-shaking beauty dead, blotched and shadowed squalidly,its gleaming plumes tarnished, its dancing spirals stripped from it, thatwhich had been the Shining One wrapped itself about Yolara— wrapped anddrew her into itself; writhed, swayed, and hurled itself over the edge ofthe bridge— down, down into the green fires of the unfathomableabyss— with its priestess still enfolded in its coils!
From the dwarfs who had watched that terror came screams of panic fear. Theyturned and ran, racing frantically over the bridge toward the cavern mouth.
The serried ranks of the dead-alive trembled, shook. Then from their facesfled the horror of wedded ecstasy and anguish. Peace, utter peace, followedin its wake.
And as fields of wheat are bent and fall beneath the wind, they fell. Nolonger dead-alive, now all of the blessed dead, freed from their dreadfulslavery!
Abruptly from the sparkling mists the cloud of eyes was gone. Faintly revealedin them were only the heads of the Silent Ones. And they drew before us;were before us! No flames now in their ebon eyes— for the flickeringfires were quenched in great tears, streaming down the marble white faces.They bent toward us, over us; their radiance enfolded us. My eyes darkened.I could not see. I felt a tender hand upon my head— and panic and frozendread and nightmare web that held me fled.
Then they, too, were gone.
Upon Larry's breast the handmaiden was sobbing— sobbing out herheart— but this time with the joy of one who is swept up from the verythreshold of hell into paradise.
CHAPTER XXXV
"Larry— Farewell!"
"My heart, Larry——" It was the handmaiden's murmur. "My heart feelslike a bird that is flying from a nest of sorrow."
We were pacing down the length of the bridge, guards of the Akka besideus, others following with those companies of ladala that had rushedto aid us; in front of us the bandaged Rador swung gently within a litter;beside him, in another, lay Nak, the frog-king— much less of him thanthere had been before the battle began, but living.
Hours had passed since the terror I have just related. My first task hadbeen to search for Throckmartin and his wife among the fallen multitudesstrewn thick as autumn leaves along the flying arch of stone, over the cavernledge, and back, back as far as the eye could reach.
At last, Lakla and Larry helping, we found them. They lay close to thebridge-end, not parted— locked tight in each other's arms, pallid faceto face, her hair streaming over his breast! As though when that unearthlylife the Dweller had set within them passed away, their own had come backfor one fleeting instant— and they had known each other, and claspedbefore kindly death had taken them.
"Love is stronger than all things." The handmaiden was weeping softly. "Lovenever left them. Love was stronger than the Shining One. And when its evilfled, love went with them— wherever souls go."
Of Stanton and Thora there was no trace; nor, after our discovery of thoseother two, did I care to look more. They were dead— and they were free.
We buried Throckmartin and Edith beside Olaf in Lakla's bower. But beforethe body of my old friend was placed within the grave I gave it a carefuland sorrowful examination. The skin was firm and smooth, but cold; not thecold of death, but with a chill that set my touching fingers tinglingunpleasantly. The body was bloodless; the course of veins and arteries markedby faintly indented white furrows, as though their walls had long collapsed.Lips, mouth, even the tongue, was paper white. There was no sign of dissolutionas we know it; no shadow or stain upon the marble surface. Whatever the forcethat, streaming from the Dweller or impregnating its lair, had energizedthe dead-alive, it was barrier against putrescence of any kind; that at leastwas certain.
But it was not barrier against the poison of the Medusae, for, our sad taskdone, and looking down upon the waters, I saw the pale forms of the Dweller'shordes dissolving, vanishing into the shifting glories of the gigantic moonssailing down upon them from every quarter of the Sea of Crimson.
While the frog-men, those late levies from the farthest forests, were clearingbridge and ledge of cavern of the litter of the dead, we listened to a leaderof the ladala. They had risen, even as the messenger had promisedRador. Fierce had been the struggle in the gardened city by the silver waterswith those Lugur and Yolara had left behind to garrison it. Deadly had beenthe slaughter of the fair-haired, reaping the harvest of hatred they hadbeen sowing so long. Not without a pang of regret did I think of the beautiful,gaily malicious elfin women destroyed— evil though they may have been.
The ancient city of Lara was a charnel. Of all the rulers not twoscore hadescaped, and these into regions of peril which to describe as sanctuary wouldbe mockery. Nor had the ladala fared so well. Of all the men and women,for women as well as men had taken their part in the swift war, not morethan a tenth remained alive.
And the dancing motes of light in the silver air were thick, thick— theywhispered.
They told us of the Shining One rushing through the Veil, cometlike, itshosts streaming behind it, raging with it, in ranks that seemed interminable!
Of the massacre of the priests and priestesses in the Cyclopean temple; ofthe flashing forth of the summoning lights by unseen hands— followedby the tearing of the rainbow curtain, by colossal shatterings of the radiantcliffs; the vanishing behind their debris of all trace of entrance to thehaunted place wherein the hordes of the Shining One had slaved— the sealingof the lair!
Then, when the tempest of hate had ended in seething Lara, how, thrilledwith victory, armed with the weapons of those they had slain, they had liftedthe Shadow, passed through the Portal, met and slaughtered the fleeing remnantsof Yolara's men— only to find the tempest stilled here, too.
But of Marakinoff they had seen nothing! Had the Russian escaped, I wondered,or was he lying out there among the dead?
But now the ladala were calling upon Lakla to come with them, to governthem.
"I don't want to, Larry darlin'," she told him. "I want to go out with youto Ireland. But for a time— I think the Three would have us remain andset that place in order."
The O'Keefe was bothered about something else than the government of Muria.
"If they've killed off all the priests, who's to marry us, heart of mine?"he worried. "None of those Siya and Siyana rites, no matter what," he addedhastily.
"Marry!" cried the handmaiden incredulously. "Marry us? Why, Larry dear,we are married!"
The O'Keefe's astonishment was complete; his jaw dropped; collapse seemedimminent.
"We are?" he gasped. "When?" he stammered fatuously.
"Why, when the Mother drew us together before her; when she put her handson our heads after we had made the promise! Didn't you understand that?"asked the handmaiden wonderingly.
He looked at her, into the purity of the clear golden eyes, into the purityof the soul that gazed out of them; all his own great love transfiguringhis keen face.
"An' is that enough for you, mavourneen?" he whispered humbly.
"Enough?" The handmaiden's puzzlement was complete, profound. "Enough? Larrydarlin', what more could we ask?"
He drew a deep breath, clasped her close.
"Kiss the bride, Doc!" cried the O'Keefe. And for the third and, soul's sorrow!the last time, Lakla dimpling and blushing, I thrilled to the touch of hersoft, sweet lips.
Quickly were our preparations for departure made. Rador, conscious, his immensevitality conquering fast his wounds, was to be borne ahead of us. And whenall was done, Lakla, Larry, and I made our way up to the scarlet stone thatwas the doorway to the chamber of the Three. We knew, of course, that theyhad gone, following, no doubt, those whose eyes I had seen in the curdledmists, and who, coming to the aid of the Three at last from whatever mysteriousplace that was their home, had thrown their strength with them against theShining One. Nor were we wrong. When the great slab rolled away, no torrentsof opalescence came rushing out upon us. The vast dome was dim, tenantless;its curved walls that had cascaded light shone now but faintly; the daiswas empty; its wall of moon-flame radiance gone.
A little time we stood, heads bent, reverent, our hearts filled with gratitudeand love— yes, and with pity for that strange trinity so alien to usand yet so near; children even as we, though so unlike us, of our same MotherEarth.
And what I wondered had been the secret of that promise they had wrung fromtheir handmaiden and from Larry. And whence, if what the Three had said hadbeen all true— whence had come their power to avert the sacrifice atthe very verge of its consummation?
"Love is stronger than all things!" had said Lakla.
Was it that they had needed, must have, the force which dwells within love,within willing sacrifice, to strengthen their own power and to enable themto destroy the evil, glorious Thing so long shielded by their own love? Didthe thought of sacrifice, the will toward abnegation, have to be as strongas the eternals, unshaken by faintest thrill of hope, before the Three couldmake of it their key to unlock the Dweller's guard and strike through atits life?
Here was a mystery— a mystery indeed! Lakla softly closed the crimsonstone. The mystery of the red dwarf's appearance was explained when we discovereda half-dozen of the water coria moored in a small cove not far fromwhere the Sekta flashed their heads of living bloom. The dwarfs hadborne the shallops with them, and from somewhere beyond the cavern ledgehad launched them unperceived; stealing up to the farther side of the islandand risking all in one bold stroke. Well, Lugur, no matter what he held ofwickedness, held also high courage.
The cavern was paved with the dead-alive, the Akka carrying them outby the hundreds, casting them into the waters. Through the lane down whichthe Dweller had passed we went as quickly as we could, coming at last tothe space where the coria waited. And not long after we swung pastwhere the shadow had hung and hovered over the shining depths of the MidnightPool.
Upon Lakla's insistence we passed on to the palace of Lugur, not toYolara's— I do not know why, but go there then she would not. And withinone of its columned rooms, maidens of the black-haired folks, the wistfulness,the fear, all gone from their sparkling eyes, served us.
There came to me a huge desire to see the destruction they had told us ofthe Dweller's lair; to observe for myself whether it was not possible tomake a way of entrance and to study its mysteries.
I spoke of this, and to my surprise both the handmaiden and the O'Keefe showedan almost embarrassed haste to acquiesce in my hesitant suggestion.
"Sure," cried Larry, "there's lots of time before night!"
He caught himself sheepishly; cast a glance at Lakla.
"I keep forgettin' there's no night here," he mumbled.
"What did you say, Larry?" asked she.
"I said I wish we were sitting in our home in Ireland, watching the sun godown," he whispered to her. Vaguely I wondered why she blushed.
But now I must hasten. We went to the temple, and here at least the ghastlylitter of the dead had been cleaned away. We passed through the blue-cavernedspace, crossed the narrow arch that spanned the rushing sea stream, and,ascending, stood again upon the ivoried pave at the foot of the frowning,towering amphitheatre of jet.
Across the Silver Waters there was sign of neither Web of Rainbows nor colossalpillars nor the templed lips that I had seen curving out beneath the Veilwhen the Shining One had swirled out to greet its priestess and its voiceand to dance with the sacrifices. There was but a broken and rent mass ofthe radiant cliffs against whose base the lake lapped.
Long I looked— and turned away saddened. Knowing even as I did what theirised curtain had hidden, still it was as though some thing of supernalbeauty and wonder had been swept away, never to be replaced; a glamour gonefor ever; a work of the high gods destroyed.
"Let's go back," said Larry abruptly.
I dropped a little behind them to examine a bit of carving— and, afterall, they did not want me. I watched them pacing slowly ahead, his arm aroundher, black hair close to bronze-gold ringlets. Then I followed. Half werethey over the bridge when through the roar of the imprisoned stream I heardmy name called softly.
"Goodwin! Dr. Goodwin!"
Amazed, I turned. From behind the pedestal of a carved groupslunk— Marakinoff! My premonition had been right. Some way he had escaped,slipped through to here. He held his hands high, came forward cautiously.
"I am finished," he whispered— "Done! I don't care what they'lldo to me." He nodded toward the handmaiden and Larry, now at the end of thebridge and passing on, oblivious of all save each other. He drew closer.His eyes were sunken, burning, mad; his face etched with deep lines, as thougha graver's tool had cut down through it. I took a step backward.
A grin, like the grimace of a fiend, blasted the Russian's visage. He threwhimself upon me, his hands clenching at my throat!
"Larry!" I yelled— and as I spun around under the shock of his onslaught,saw the two turn, stand paralyzed, then race toward me.
"But you'll carry nothing out of here!" shrieked Marakinoff. "No!"
My foot, darting out behind me, touched vacancy. The roaring of the racingstream deafened me. I felt its mists about me; threw myself forward.
I was falling— falling— with the Russian's hand strangling me. Istruck water, sank; the hands that gripped my throat relaxed for a momenttheir clutch. I strove to writhe loose; felt that I was being hurled withdreadful speed on— full realization came— on the breast of that racingtorrent dropping from some far ocean cleft and rushing— where? A littletime, a few breathless instants, I struggled with the devil who clutchedme— inflexibly, indomitably.
Then a shrieking as of all the pent winds of the universe in myears— blackness!
Consciousness returned slowly, agonizedly.
"Larry!" I groaned. "Lakla!"
A brilliant light was glowing through my closed lids. It hurt. I opened myeyes, closed them with swords and needles of dazzling pain shooting throughthem. Again I opened them cautiously. It was the sun!
I staggered to my feet. Behind me was a shattered wall of basalt monoliths,hewn and squared. Before me was the Pacific, smooth and blue and smiling.
And not far away, cast up on the strand even as I had been, was— Marakinoff!
He lay there, broken and dead indeed. Yet all the waters through which wehad passed— not even the waters of death themselves— could wash fromhis face the grin of triumph. With the last of my strength I dragged thebody from the strand and pushed it out into the waves. A little billow ranup, coiled about it, and carried it away, ducking and bending. Another seizedit, and another, playing with it. It floated from my sight— that whichhad been Marakinoff, with all his schemes to turn our fair world into anundreamed-of-hell.
My strength began to come back to me. I found a thicket and slept; sleptit must have been for many hours, for when I again awakened the dawn wasrosing the east. I will not tell my sufferings. Suffice it to say that Ifound a spring and some fruit, and just before dusk had recovered enoughto writhe up to the top of the wall and discover where I was.
The place was one of the farther islets of the Nan-Matal. To the north Icaught the shadows of the ruins of Nan-Tauach, where was the moon door, blackagainst the sky. Where was the moon door— which, someway, somehow, Imust reach, and quickly.
At dawn of the next day I got together driftwood and bound it together inshape of a rough raft with fallen creepers. Then, with a makeshift paddle,I set forth for Nan-Tauach. Slowly, painfully, I crept up to it. It was lateafternoon before I grounded my shaky craft on the little beach between theruined sea-gates and, creeping up the giant steps, made my way to the innerenclosure.
And at its opening I stopped, and the tears ran streaming down my cheekswhile I wept aloud with sorrow and with disappointment and with weariness.
For the great wall in which had been set the pale slab whose threshold wehad crossed to the land of the Shining One lay shattered and broken. Themonoliths were heaped about; the wall had fallen, and about them shone afilm of water, half covering them.
There was no moon door!
Dazed and weeping, I drew closer, climbed upon their outlying fragments.I looked out only upon the sea. There had been a great subsidence, an earthshock, perhaps, tilting downward all that side— the echo, little doubt,of that cataclysm which had blasted the Dweller's lair!
The little squared islet called Tau, in which were hidden the seven globes,had entirely disappeared. Upon the waters there was no trace of it.
The moon door was gone; the passage to the Moon Pool was closed to me— itschamber covered by the sea!
There was no road to Larry— nor to Lakla!
And there, for me, the world ended.