CHAPTER XIX
The Madness of Olaf
YOLARA threw her white arms high. From the mountainous
tiers came a mighty sigh; a rippling ran through them. And
upon the moment, before Yolara's arms fell, there issued,
apparently from the air around us, a peal of sound that
might have been the shouting of some playful god hurling
great suns through the net of stars. It was like the deepest
notes of all the organs in the world 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's supernal chord! It shook
the body like a pulse from the heart of the universe - pulsed
- and died away.
On its death came a blaring as of all the trumpets of conquering hosts since the first Pharaoh led his swarms -
triumphal, compelling! Alexander's clamouring hosts,
brazen-throated wolf-horns of Caesar's legions, blare of
trumpets of Genghis Khan and his golden horde, clangor of
the locust levies of Tamerlane, bugles of Napoleon's armies
- war-shout of all earth's conquerors! And it died!
Fast upon it, a throbbing, muffled tumult of harp sounds,
mellownesses of myriads of wood horns, the subdued sweet
shrilling of multitudes of flutes, Pandean pipings - inviting,
carrying with them the calling of waterfalls in the hidden
places, rushing brooks and murmuring forest winds - calling, calling, languorous, lulling, dripping into the brain like
the very honeyed essence of sound.
And after them a silence in which the memory of the
music seemed to beat, to beat ever more faintly, through
every quivering nerve.
From me all fear, all apprehension, had fled. In their
place was nothing but joyous anticipation, a supernal freedom from even the shadow of the shadow of care or sorrow;
not now did anything matter - Olaf or his haunted, hatefilled eyes; Throckmartin or his fate - nothing of pain, nothing of agony, nothing of striving nor endeavour nor despair
in that wide outer world that had turned suddenly to a
troubled dream.
Once more the first great note pealed out! Once more it
died and from the clustered spheres a kaleidoscopic blaze
shot as though drawn from the majestic sound itself. The
many-coloured rays darted across the white waters and
sought the 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. Faded into shadow that white mosaic of flowercrowned faces set in the amphitheatre of 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 the fair-haired ones blazed out, iridescent, like
jewels.
I was sensible of an acceleration of every pulse; a wild
stimulation of every nerve. I felt myself being lifted above
the world - close to the threshold of the high gods - soon
their essence and their power would stream out into 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, and hate, 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 rainbows that 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 intolerable brightness - 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 flame shimmering, its coruscating spirals whirling,
its seven globes of seven colours shining above its glowing
core, it raced toward us. The hurricane of bells of diamond
glass were jubilant, joyous. I felt O'Keefe grip my arm;
Yolara threw her white arms out in a welcoming gesture; I
heard from the tier a sigh of rapture - and in it a poignant,
wailing under-tone of agony!
Over the waters, down the light stream, to the end of the
ivory pier, flew the Shining One. Through its crystal pizzicati
drifted inarticulate murmurings - deadly sweet, stilling the
heart and setting it leaping madly.
For a moment it paused, poised itself, and then came
whirling down the flower path to its priestess, slowly, ever
more slowly. It hovered for a moment between the woman
and the dwarf, as though contemplating them; turned to her
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, maddeningly
heavenly! Aphrodite and the Virgin! Tanith of the
Carthaginians and St. Bride of 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 these named 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. Nor could I doubt that whatever it was, within that shining nucleus was something sentient; something that had will and energy, and in some awful, supernormal fashion - intelligence!
Another trumpeting - a sound of stones opening - a long,
low wail of utter anguish - something moved shadowy in the
river of light, and slowly at first, then ever more rapidly,
shapes swam through it. There were half a score of them -
girls and youths, women and men. The Shining One poised
itself, regarded them. They drew closer, and in the eyes of
each and in their faces 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-sounds rang 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 was the girl who had been brought before Yolara
when the gnome named Songar was driven into the nothingness! With all the quickness of light a spiral of the Shining
One stretched out and encircled her.
At its touch there was an infinitely dreadful shrinking
and, it seemed, a simultaneous hurling of herself into its
radiance. As it wrapped its swirls around 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 flew into its embrace, until,
at last, the dais was an incredible vision; a mad star's
Witches' Sabbath; an altar of white faces and bodies gleaming through living flame; transfused with rapture insupportable and horror that was hellish - and ever, radiant plumes
and spirals expanding, the core of the Shining One waxed -
growing greater - as it consumed, as it drew into 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 that what 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 from the dais down the ramp, still embracing,
still interwoven with those who had thrown themselves into
its spirals. They drifted with it as though half-carried in
dreadful dance; white faces sealed - forever - into that semblance of those who held within linked God and devil - I
covered my eyes!
I heard a gasp from O'Keefe; opened my eyes and sought
his; saw the wildness vanish from them as he strained forward. Olaf had leaned far out, and as he did so the dwarfs
beside him caught him, and whether by design or through his
own swift, involuntary movement, thrust him half into the
Dweller's path. The Dweller paused in its gyrations - seemed
to watch him. The Norseman's face was crimson, his eyes
blazing. He threw himself back and, with one defiant shout,
gripped one of the dwarfs about the middle and sent him
hurtling through the air, straight at the radiant Thing! A
whirling mass of legs and arms, the dwarf flew - then in midflight stopped as though some gigantic invisible hand had
caught him, and - was dashed down upon the platform not a
yard from the Shining One!
Like a broken spider he moved - feebly - once, twice.
From the Dweller shot a shimmering tentacle - touched him
- recoiled. Its crystal tinklings changed into an angry chiming. From all about - jewelled stalls and jet peak - came a
sigh of incredulous horror.
Lugur leaped forward. On the instant Larry was over the
low barrier between the pillars, rushing to the Norseman's
side. And even as they ran there was another wild shout from
Olaf, and he hurled himself out, straight at the throat of the
Dweller!
But before he could touch the Shining One, now motionless - and never was the thing more horrible than then, with
the purely human suggestion of surprise plain in its poise -
Larry had struck him aside.
I tried to follow - and was held by Rador. He was trembling - but not with 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 bravest thing man has ever witnessed. Instantly
O'Keefe thrust himself between it and Olaf, pistol out. The
tentacle touched him, and the dull blue of his robe flashed
out into blinding, intense azure light. From the automatic in
his 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 Keth cones. But before he could flash it upon the
Norseman, Larry had unlooped his robe, thrown its fold
over Olaf, and, holding him with one hand away from 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 to it - and the wild buzzing died
down; the gay crystal tinklings burst forth again. The Thing
murmured to her - began to whirl - faster, faster - passed
down the ivory pier, out upon the waters, bearing with it,
meshed in its light, the sacrifices - swept on ever more
swiftly, triumphantly and turning, turning, with its ghastly
crew, vanished through the Veil!
Abruptly the polychromatic path snapped out. The silver
light poured in upon us. From all the amphitheatre arose a
clamour, a shouting. Marakinoff, his eyes staring, was leaning out, listening. Unrestrained now by Rador, I vaulted the
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 - a strong 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 rested her hand on Larry's shoulder. "He
shall not dance. No - nor his friend. I have told you I dare
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's pistol
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, were jostling down
from the tiers of jet.
"Come!" commanded Yolara - her eyes rested upon
Larry. "Your heart is great, 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 upon me 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. Silently Olaf strode beside me. Rador
had disappeared. Down the stairway, through the hall of
turquoise mist, over the rushing sea-stream we went and
stood beside 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 the lever; we raced through the faintly luminous corridor to the house of the priestess.
And one thing now I knew sick at heart and soul the truth
had come to me - no more need to search for Throckmartin.
Behind that Veil, in the lair of the Dweller, dead-alive like
those we had just seen swim in its shining train was he, and
Edith, Stanton and Thora and Olaf Huldricksson's wife!
The car came to rest; the portal opened; Yolara leaped
out lightly, beckoned and flitted up the corridor. She paused
before an ebon screen. At a touch it vanished, revealing an
entrance to a small blue chamber, glowing as though cut
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 no way
did they resemble the mapped coastlines of our earth.
Poised upon the globe, rising from it out into space, locked
in each other's arms, lips to lips, were two figures, a woman
and a man, so exquisite, so lifelike, that for the moment I
failed to realize that they, too, were carved of 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 mistaking them, the height of a tall man
each stood - but how water, flame and light were 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 by slightest look or gesture betrayed she knew
others were there than he. The blue eyes wide, searching,
unfathomable, she drew close; put white hands on his shoulders, looked down into his very soul.
"My lord," she murmured. "Now listen well for I, Yolara,
give you three things - myself, and the Shining One, and the
power that is the Shining One's - yea, and still a fourth thing
that is all three - power over all upon that world from
whence you came! These, my lord, ye shall have. I swear it"
- she turned toward the altar - uplifted her arms - "by Siya
and by Siyana, and by the flame, by the water, and by the
light!"1
1 I have no space here even to outline the eschatology of this people,
nor to catalogue their pantheon. Siya and Siyana typified worldly love.
Their ritual was, however, singularly free from those degrading elements usually found in love-cults. Priests and priestesses of all cults
dwelt in the immense seven-terraced structure, of which the jet amphitheatre was the water side. The symbol, icon, representation, of Siya
and Siyana - the globe and the up-striving figures - typified earthly
love, feet bound to earth, but eyes among the stars. Hell or heaven I
never heard formulated, nor their equivalents; unless that existence
in the Shining One's domain could serve for either. Over all this was
Thanaroa, remote; unheeding, but still maker and ruler of all - an
absentee First Cause personified! Thanaroa seemed 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 there was, indeed,
of high, truly religious impulse among the Murians, this far, High
God had. I found this exceedingly interesting, because it had long been
my theory - to put the matter in the shape of a geometrical formula -
that the real attractiveness of gods to man increases uniformly according to the square 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 whispered fiercely.
Then swiftly, still ignoring us, she threw her arms about
O'Keefe, pressed her white body to his breast, lips raised,
eyes closed, seeking his. O'Keefe's arms tightened around
her, his head dropped lips seeking, finding hers - passionately! From Olaf came a deep indrawn breath that was almost a 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 regarding him. 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 first time she seemed to recognize our presence, stared at us a moment, then through us, and turned to
O'Keefe.
"Go, now!" she said. "Soon Rador shall come for you.
Then - well, after that let happen what will!"
She smiled once more at him - so sweetly; turned toward
the figures upon the 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 heard a 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 droned a humming as of a giant
hive disturbed!
Larry threw himself down upon one of the divans, covered his face with his hands, dropped them to catch in Olaf's
eyes troubled reproach, looked at me.
"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 angel struck you out of nowhere and threw itself about you, you would most dignifiedly tell 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 is of evil: Trolldom and Helvede it is, Ja!
And that she djaevelsk of 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 power over all the
world, Ja! - as if the world had not devils enough in 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 were footsteps on the path, and into sight
came Rador - but a Rador changed. Gone was every vestige
of his mockery; curiously solemn, he saluted O'Keefe and
Olaf with that salute which, before this, I had seen given
only to Yolara and 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 can do!" He paused thoughtfully. "Bones and dust
jostle not each other for place against the grave wall!" he
added oddly. "But if bones and dust have revealed to them
that they still - live - "
He stopped abruptly, eyes seeking the globe that bore and
sent forth speech.1
1 I find that I have neglected to explain the working of these interesting mechanisms that were telephonic, dictaphonic, telegraphic in
one. I must assume that my readers are familiar with the receiving
apparatus of wireless telegraphy, which must be "tuned" by the operator until its own vibratory quality is in exact harmony with the
vibrations - the extremely rapid impacts - of those short electric wavelengths we call Hertzian, and which carry the wireless messages. I
must assume also that they are familiar with the elementary fact of
physics that the vibrations of light and sound are interchangeable.
The hearing-talking globes utilize both these principles, and with consummate simplicity. The light with which they shone was produced
by an atomic "motor" within their base, similar to that which activated
the merely illuminating globes. The composition of the phonic spheres
gave their surfaces an acute sensitivity and resonance. In conjunction
with its energizing power, the metal set up what is called a "field of
force," which linked it with every particle of its kind no matter how
distant. When vibrations of speech impinged upon the resonant surface
its rhythmic light-vibrations were broken, just as a telephone transmitter breaks an electric current. Simultaneously these light-vibrations
were changed into sound - on the surfaces of all spheres tuned to that
particular instrument. The "crawling" colours which showed themselves at these times were literally the voice of the speaker in its spectrum equivalent. While usually the sounds produced required considerable familiarity with the apparatus to be understood quickly, they
could, on occasion, be made startlingly loud and clear - as I was soon
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, you Goodwin, are to come. I remain here
with - Olaf."
"No harm to him!" broke in O'Keefe sharply. Rador
touched his heart, his eyes.
"By the Ancient Ones, and by my love for you, and by
what you twain did before the Shining One - I swear it!" he
whispered.
Rador clapped palms; a soldier came round the path, in his
grip a long flat box of polished wood. The green dwarf took
it, dismissed him, threw open the lid.
"Here is your apparel for the feast, Larree," he said, pointing to the 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 argent material, and sandals that seemed to be cut out from silver. He made a quick
gesture of angry dissent.
"Nay, Larree!" muttered the dwarf. "Wear them - I counsel it - I pray 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 curiously expressive pleading gesture. O'Keefe
abruptly took the garments; passed into the room of the fountain.
"The Shining One dances not again?" I asked.
"No," he said. "No" - he hesitate - "it is the usual feast
that follows the sacrament! Lugur - and Double Tongue,
who came with you, will be there," he added slowly.
"Lugur - " I gasped in astonishment. "After what happened - he will be there?"
"Perhaps because of what happened, Goodwin, my
friend," he answered - his eyes again full of malice; "and
there will be others - friends of Yolara - friends of Lugur -
and perhaps another" - his voice was almost inaudible -
"one whom they have not called - " He halted, half-fearfully, glancing at the globe; put finger to lips and spread
himself out upon one of 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's eyes 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, unwound it - and, still kneeling, drew out a slender poniard of gleaming white metal, hilted with the blue
stones; he thrust it into O'Keefe's girdle; then gave 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 they still have it!"
And with this strange benediction, be 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 my heart a puzzled, lurking doubt within his
eyes.
As we ascended the serpent steps Marakinoff appeared.
He gave a signal to our guards - and I wondered what influence the Russian had attained, for promptly, without
question, they drew aside. At me he smiled amiably.
"Have you found your friends yet?" he went on - and now
I sensed something deeply sinister in him. "No! It is too
bad! Well, don't give up hope." He turned 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 turned to me.
"Just a minute, Doc!" he said, and I caught the suspicion
of a wink. They drew aside, out of ear-shot. The Russian
talked rapidly. Larry was all attention. Marakinoff's earnestness became intense; O'Keefe interrupted - appeared to
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 the Irishman appeared to consider
gravely; nodded as though he had arrived at some decision,
and Marakinoff thrust his hand to him.
And only I could have noticed Larry's shrinking, his
microscopic hesitation before he took it, and his involuntary
movement, as though to shake off something unclean, when
the clasp had ended.
Marakinoff, without another look at me, turned and went
quickly within. The guards took their places. I looked at
Larry inquiringly.
"Don't ask a thing now, Doc!" he said tensely. "Wait till
we get home. But we've got to get damned busy and quick
- I'll tell you that now - "
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