CHAPTER XXXIV
The Coming of the Shining One
THE NORSEMAN turned toward us. There was now no madness in his eyes; only a 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 - to me 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 our tears. 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 we could.
Then Lakla spoke.
"We will bear him into the castle where we may give him
greater care," she said. "For, lo! the hosts of Yolara have
been beaten back; and on the bridge comes Nak with tidings."
We looked over the parapet. It was even as she had said.
Neither on ledge nor bridge was there trace of living men of
Muria - only heaps of slain that lay everywhere - and thick
against the cavern mouth still danced the 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. Back through the slitted opening the radiance was
streaming; withdrawing from sea and island; marching back
over the bridge with that same ordered, intelligent motion.
Behind it the red light pressed, like skirmishers on the heels
of a 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 heart gave a great throb and seemed to stop for
an eternity. What was it - coming nearer, ever nearer? Now
Lakla and O'Keefe heard it, life ebbing from lips and 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, sinister beyond words; sweeping on; nearer -
The Dweller! The Shining One!
We leaped to the narrow window; peered out, aghast. The
bell notes swept through and about us, a hurricane. The
crescent strand was once more a ferment. Back, back were
the Akka being swept, as though by brooms, tottering on 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 of a mighty tide. The
frog-men strove against them, clubbing, spearing, tearing
them. But even those worst smitten seemed not to fall. On
they pushed, driving forward, irresistible - a battering ram
of flesh and bone. They clove the masses of the Akka, pressing them to the sides of the bridge and over. Through the
open gates they forced them - for there was no room for the
frog-men to stand against that implacable tide.
Then those of the Akka who were left turned their backs
and ran. We heard the clang of the golden wings of the portal, and none too soon to keep out the first of the Dweller's
dreadful hordes.
Now upon the cavern ]edge and over the whole length
of the bridge there were none but the dead-alive, men and
women, black-polled ladala, sloe-eyed Malays, 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 radiance began to grow - a gleaming from
which the atoms of diamond dust seemed to try to flee. As
the radiance grew and the crystal notes rang nearer, every
head of that hideous multitude turned stiffly, slowly toward
the right, looking toward the far bridge end; their eyes fixed
and glaring; every face an inhuman mask of rapture and of
horror!
A movement shook them. Those in the centre began to
stream back, faster and ever faster, leaving motionless deep
ranks on each side. Back they flowed until from golden
doors to cavern mouth a wide lane stretched, walled on each
side by the dead-alive.
The far radiance became brighter; it gathered itself at the
end of the dreadful lane; it was shot with sparklings and with
pulsings of polychromatic light. The crystal storm was intolerable, piercing the ears with countless tiny lances;
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; behind it glided Yolara
at the head of a company of her dwarfs, and at her side was
the hag of the Council whose face was the withered, shattered echo of her 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 it subtly seemed to reflect the doubt; their notes were not sure, no longer insistent;
rather was there in them an undertone of hesitancy, of warning! Yet on came the Shining One until it stood plain beneath us, searching with those eyes that thrust from and
withdrew into unknown spheres, the golden gateway, the
cliff face, the castle's rounded bulk - and more intently than
any of these, the dome wherein sat the Three.
Behind it each face of the dead-alive turned toward it, and
those beside it throbbed and gleamed with its luminescence.
Yolara crept close, just beyond the reach of its spirals.
She murmured - and the 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 Shining One, to deny
it entrance to the place of its birth?"
"Ye do not answer," she cried again, "yet know we that
ye hear! The Shining One offers these terms: Send forth your
handmaiden and that lying stranger she stole; send them
forth to us - and perhaps ye may live. But if ye send them
not forth, then shall ye too die - and soon!"
We waited, silent, even as did Yolara - and again there
was no answer from 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 bore a smoothed and handled tree-trunk whose
head was knobbed with a huge hall of metal. Past the priestess, past the Shining One, they carried it; fifty of 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 there rang through the abode a tremendous
clanging. The ram was battering at the gates. 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 behind the 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 say that the way of fear is closed, but the way
of love is open. They call upon us to redeem our promise!"
For a hundred heart-beats they clung to each other, breast
to breast and lip to lip. Below, the clangour was increasing,
the great trunk swinging harder and faster upon the metal
gates. Now Lakla gently loosed the arms of the O'Keefe, and
for another instant those two looked into each other's souls.
The handmaiden smiled tremulously.
"I would it might have been otherwise, Larry darlin',"
she whispered. "But at least - we pass together, dearest of
mine!"
She leaped to the window.
"Yolara!" the golden voice rang out sweetly. The clanging ceased. "Draw back your men. We open the Portal and
come forth to you and the Shining One - 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 I yearn for you!" Her malice-laden laughter
chimed high once more. "Keep us not 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 Dolphin know I'm gone. And carry on, pal
- and always remember the O'Keefe loved you like a
brother."
I squeezed his hands desperately. Then out of my balanceshaking woe a strange comfort 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 corridor that 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 embrace they must, they
should not go alone.
They paused before the Golden Portals; the handmaiden
pressed its opening lever; the massive leaves rolled back.
Heads high, proudly, serenely, they passed through and
out upon the hither span. I followed.
On each side of us stood the Dweller's slaves, faces turned
rigidly toward their master. A hundred feet away the Shining One pulsed and spiralled in its 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. I could not see their faces,
but I saw awe fall upon those of the watching dwarfs, and
into the burning eyes of Yolara crept a doubt. Closer they
drew to the Dweller, and closer, I following them step by
step. The Shining One's whirling lessened; its tinklings were
faint, almost stilled. It seemed to watch 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
the Three - so near that with one of its misty tentacles it
could have enfolded them.
And the Shining One drew back!
Yes, drew back - and back with it stepped Yolara, the
doubt in her eyes deepening. Onward paced the handmaiden
and the O'Keefe - and step by step, as they advanced, the
Dweller withdrew; its bell notes chiming out, puzzled questioning - half fearful!
And back it drew, and back until it had reached the very
centre of that platform over the abyss in whose depths pulsed
the green fires of earth heart. And there Yolara gripped herself; the hell that seethed within her soul leaped out 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 mists swirled madly, the pulsing core of it blazed
radiance. A score of coruscating tentacles swept straight
upon the pair who stood intrepid, unresisting, awaiting its
embrace. And upon me, lurking behind them.
Through me swept a mighty exaltation. It was the end
then - and I was to meet it with them.
Something drew us back, back with an incredible swiftness, and yet as gently as a summer breeze sweeps a bit of
thistle-down! Drew us back from those darting misty arms
even as they were a hair-breadth from us! I heard the Dweller'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, swirling about the Shining One and its priestess, pressing in upon them, enfolding them!
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 radiant swathings of the Dweller, striking
through its pulsing nucleus, piercing its seven crowning orbs.
Now the Shining One's radiance began to dim, the seven
orbs to dull; the tiny sparkling filaments that ran from them
down into the Dweller's body snapped, vanished! Through
the battling nebulosities Yolara's face swam forth - horrorfilled, distorted, inhuman!
The ranks of the dead-alive quivered, moved, writhed, as
though each felt the torment of the Thing that had enslaved
them. The radiance that the Three wielded grew more intense, thicker, seemed to expand. Within it, suddenly, were
scores of flaming triangles - scores of eyes like those of the
Silent Ones!
And the Shining One's seven little moons of amber, of
silver, of blue and amethyst and green, of rose and white,
split, shattered, were gone! Abruptly the 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, that which had been the Shining One wrapped itself about Yolara - wrapped and drew
her into itself; writhed, swayed, and hurled itself over the
edge of the bridge - down, down into the green fires of the
unfathomable abyss - with its priestess still enfolded in its
coils!
From the dwarfs who had watched that terror came
screams of panic fear. They turned and ran, racing frantically over the bridge toward the cavern mouth.
The serried ranks of the dead-alive trembled, shook. Then
from their faces tied the horror of wedded ecstasy and anguish. Peace, utter peace, followed in its wake.
And as fields of wheat are bent and fall beneath the wind,
they fell. No longer dead-alive, now all of the blessed dead,
freed from their dreadful slavery!
Abruptly from the sparkling mists the cloud of eyes was
gone. Faintly revealed in 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 flickering fires 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 frozen dread and nightmare
web that held me fled.
Then they, too, were gone.
Upon Larry's breast the handmaiden was sobbing - sobbing out her heart - but this time with the joy of one who is
swept up from the very threshold of hell into paradise.
|