CHAPTER XXII
The Casting of the Shadow
NOW we were racing down toward that last span whose
ancientness had set it apart from all the other soaring arches.
The shell's speed slackened; we approached warily.
"We pass there?" asked O'Keefe.
The green dwarf nodded, pointing to the right where the
bridge ended in a broad platform held high upon two gigantic
piers, between which ran a spur from the glistening road.
Platform and bridge were swarming with men-at-arms; they
crowded the parapets, looking down upon us curiously but
with no evidence of hostility. Rador drew a deep breath of
relief.
"We don't have to break our way through, then?" There
was disappointment in the Irishman's voice.
"No use, Larree!" Smiling, Rador stopped the corial just
beneath the arch and beside one of the piers. "Now, listen
well. They have had no warning, hence does Yolara still
think us on the way to the temple. This is 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 persuade Serku, 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 be stripped of us all.
Yet is it better to die fighting than to dance with the Shining
One!"
He swept the shell around the pier. Opened a wide plaza
paved with the volcanic glass, but black as that down which
we had sped from the chamber of the Moon Pool. It shone
like a mirrored lakelet of jet; on each side of it arose what
at first glance seemed towering bulwarks of the same ebon
obsidian; at second, revealed themselves as structures hewn
and set in place by men; polished faces pierced by dozens
of high, narrow windows.
Down each facade a stairway fell, broken by small landings on which a door opened; they dropped to a broad ledge
of greyish stone edging the lip of this midnight pool and
upon it also fell two wide flights from either side of the
bridge platform. Along all four stairways the guards were
ranged; and here and there against the ledge stood the shells
- in a curiously comforting resemblance to parked motors in
our own world.
The sombre walls bulked high; curved and ended in two
obelisked pillars from which, like a tremendous curtain,
stretched a barrier of that tenebrous gloom which, though
weightless as shadow itself, I now knew to be as impenetrable as the veil between life and death. In this murk, unlike
all others I had seen, I sensed movement, a quivering, a
tremor constant and rhythmic; not to be seen, yet caught by
some subtle sense; as though through it beat a swift 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 two guards, armed
with broadswords, double-handed, terminating in a wide
lunette mouthed with murderous fangs. These they raised in
salute and through the portal strode a dwarf huge as Rador,
dressed as he and carrying only the poniard 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 of Lakla."
"Lakla!" exclaimed Serku. "Why, the handmaiden passed
with her Akka nigh a va ago!"
"Passed!" The astonishment of the green dwarf was so real
that half was I myself deceived. "You let her PASS?"
"Certainly I let her pass - " But under the green dwarf's
stern gaze 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's forehead.
"Serku," interrupted the green dwarf swiftly, "truly is my
heart wrung for you. This is a matter of Yolara and of Lugur
and the Council; yes, even of the Shining One! And the
message was sent - and the fate, mayhap, of all Muria rested
upon your obedience and the return of Lakla with these
strangers to the Council. Now truly is my heart wrung, for
there are few I would less like 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 - tell her - "
"Wait, Serku!" There was a thrill as of inspiration in
Rador's voice. "This corial is of the swiftest - Lakla's are of
the slowest. With Lakla scarce a va ahead we can reach her
before she enters the Portal. Lift you 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 - and I thought not unreasonably.
"Nay, then." The green dwarf was brusk. "Lakla will not
return unless I carry to her these men as evidence of our
good faith. Come - we will speak to Yolara and she shall
judge you - " He started away - but Serku caught his arm.
"No, Rador, no!" he whispered, again panic-stricken. "Go
you - as you will. But bring her back! Speed, Rador!" He
sprang toward the entrance. "I lift 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 were gone.
"Fine work!" muttered Larry. "Nominated for a citizen of
Ireland when we get out of this, one Rador of - "
The Shadow trembled - shuddered into nothingness; the
obelisked outposts that had held it framed a ribbon of roadway, high banked with verdure, vanishing in green distances.
And then from the portal sped a shriek, a death cry! It cut
through the silence of the ebon pit like a whimpering arrow.
Before it had died, down the stairways came pouring the
guards. Those at the threshold raised their swords and peered
within. Abruptly Rador was between them. One dropped his
hilt and gripped him - 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's hand
and the sword seemed to fling itself from its wielder's grasp
- another flash and the soldier crumpled. Rador threw himself into the shell, darted to 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. The corial's flight was checked as by a giant's
hand. The shell swerved sickeningly; 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 shrinking as we fled from it, still it seemed to
strain like some fettered Afrit from Eblis, throbbing with
wrath, seeking with every malign power it possessed to break
its bonds and pursue. Not until long after were we to know
that it had been the dying hand of Serku, groping out of
oblivion, that had cast it after us as a fowler upon an escaping bird.
"Snappy work, Rador!" It was Larry speaking. "But they
cut the end off your bus all right!"
A full quarter of the hindward whorl was gone, sliced off
cleanly. Rador noted it with anxious eyes.
"That is bad," he said, "but not too bad perhaps. All
depends upon how closely Lugur 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
could have 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 bloodstained poniard - "Serku I was forced to slay. Even as he
raised the Shadow the globe gave the alarm. Lugur follows
with twice ten times ten of his best - " He hesitated. "Though
we have escaped the Shadow it has taken toll of our swiftness. May we reach the Portal before it closes upon Lakla -
but if we do not - " He paused again. "Well - I know a 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. The edges 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's grim, sad face and softened.
"Buck up, Olaf!" he said. "We've got a good fighting
chance. Once we link up with Lakla and her crowd I'm
betting that we get your wife - never doubt it! The baby - "
he hesitated awkwardly. The Norseman's eyes filled; 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 be given me. Ja! But my Helma - she is of
the dead-alive - like those we saw whirling like leaves in the
light of the Shining Devil - and I would that she too were
of de Dode - and at rest. I do not know how 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 suddenly down in
London with autos rushing past, sirens blowing, Archies
popping, a dozen enemy planes dropping bombs, and the
searchlights shooting all over the sky - wouldn't he think he
was among thirty-third degree devils in some exclusive circle
of hell? Sure he would! And yet everything he saw would
be natural - just as natural as all this is, once we get the
answer to it. 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 why I have turned to Thor of the battles, Ja! And ONE
have I hope in for mine Helma - the white maiden. Since I
have turned to the old gods it has been made clear to me that
I shall slay Lugur and that the Heks, the evil witch Yolara,
shall also die. But I would talk with the 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 another thing that may startle you a bit
when we meet up with Lakla - 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 frogs grow 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 that junk - just like trained seals or
monkeys or so on in the circus. Probably a custom of the
place. Nothing queer about that, Olaf. Why people have all
kinds of pets - armadillos and snakes and rabbits, kangaroos
and elephants and 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 pinnacled masses and rounded outcroppings of rock
on which clung patches of the amber moss.
The trees had utterly vanished, and studding the mosscarpeted plains were only clumps of a willowy shrub from
which hung, like grapes, clusters of white waxen blooms.
The light too had changed; gone were the dancing, sparkling
atoms and the silver had faded to a soft, almost ashen greyness. Ahead of us marched a rampart of coppery cliffs rising,
like all these mountainous walls we had seen, into the immensities of haze. Something long drifting in my subconsciousness turned to startled realization. The speed of the
shell was slackening! The aperture containing the ionizing
mechanism was still open; I glanced within, The whirling ball
of fire was not dimmed, but its coruscations, instead of pouring down through the cylinder, swirled and eddied and 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 was but 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 three or four miles distant; in front of
us the plain lifted in a long rolling swell, and up this the
corial essayed to go - with a terrifying lessening of speed.
Faintly behind us came shootings, and we knew that Lugur
drew 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 beneath it came a faint hissing; it quivered, and I knew that its base was no longer held above the
glassy surface but rested on it.
"One last chance!" exclaimed Rador. He pressed upon the
control lever and wrenched it from its socket. Instantly the
sparkling ball expanded, whirling with 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 thrust we reached the crest. Poised there
for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the road dropping down
the side of an enormous moss-covered, bowl-shaped valley
whose 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 plunged in a meteor rush straight for the annihilating adamantine breasts of the cliffs!
Now the quick thinking of Larry's air training came to our
aid. As the rampart reared close he threw himself upon
Rador; hurled him and himself against the side of the flying
whorl. Under the shock the finely balanced machine swerved
from its course. It struck the soft, low bank of the road, shot
high in air, bounded on through the thick carpeting, whirled
like a dervish and fell upon its side. Shot from it, we rolled
for yards, but the moss saved broken 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 raced O'Keefe and Olaf. At our left was
the black road. It stopped abruptly - was cut 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 rainbow veil of the Dweller. Across
its face weaved unnameable carvings - but I 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 we raced like rabbits. Hidden behind it was a
narrow path. Crouching, Rador in the lead, we sped along
it; three hundred, four hundred yards we raced - and the
path ended in a cul de sac! To our ears was borne a 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 raised his 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 boulders that formed the pocket. It rocked
aside, revealing a slit.
"In!" ordered he, straining against the weight of the stone.
O'Keefe slipped through. Olaf at his back, I following. With
a lightning leap the dwarf was beside 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 with distress that I had left it behind with my
medicine kit when we fled from the gardens. But Rador
seemed to need no light.
"Grip hands!" he ordered. We crept, single file, holding
to each other like children, 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.
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