The Hidden World: A Golden Age SF Classic

by Stanton A. Coblentz

  "By heaven!” I exclaimed.

  "Sure enough, an army!” grunted Clay. “Just see the banners gleaming!"

  By straining my eyes, I could distinguish flashes of yellow and purple, as from the waving of battle flags.

  "Say, look down there!” my companion broke out a second later, leaning over the edge until I feared he would take a mile-long fall. “There's not one army—there's two!"

  At the risk of losing my own balance, I leaned out fully as far as Clay, staring into the dreadful chasm. Just under us was a second army, its innumerable multitudes arrayed in neat rectangles, its banners flashing in vermilion and green.

  From opposite sides of the cavern the two great masses of men, each composed of scores of thousands of individuals, were approaching one another with slow and gracefully coordinated movements.

  "Where do all those fellows come from?” marveled Clay. “Say, do you know—"

  But he was not to complete his sentence; it was as if the entire cavern had burst into flame, as if a thunderstorm of unparalleled fury had flared simultaneously at a hundred points. There came a wave of dazzling white light, which flashed across the cavern on a jagged course and all but blinded us; then, we were smitten by a clap of thunder so severe that our eardrums rang. Almost instantly, other detonations followed, and new lightnings streaked and blazed. At the same time, the ground began to shake once more, and from moment to moment the tremors increased in severity. Now we could understand the source of the earthquakes.

  Speechless as deaf-mutes, Clay and I stared at each other. But in his startled eyes I read a message: “Come, let's go!” And one hand was motioning away down the gallery.

  I would have followed his suggestion, but my muscles would not obey my will. I quivered, rose to my knees, and then dropped full-length once more. Yet terror could not subdue curiosity; I still gazed down at that fantastic cavern floor, over which the colored lightnings flickered. But now, in place of the armies, multitudes of black specks were strewn pell-mell about the cavern floor, in all manner of distorted positions, some of them bunched together in great dark heaps, some clustered amid little new-made crimson patches!

  "Do you see?” I exclaimed, when a lull in the thunder permitted conversation.

  "Shot to tatters!” Clay said. “Wonder what it was all about."

  "Marvelous, anyway, how those lightnings work."

  "Marvelous how both sides won!” he snapped back. “Doesn't seem to be much left of either of them!"

  While the lightnings still leaped and vaulted through space, crossing and crisscrossing the atmosphere with flames of blue and yellow, there arose a low, regular, distant rumbling.

  "What's this coming?” Clay pointed far down the cavern. “Frank! Can you make it out?"

  "It's a battleship on wheels."

  "No, not one of them—two!” shouted Clay.

  Two monster shapes, each as large as super-dreadnoughts, were gliding out of the greenish-yellow glare far to the right. With long, pointed, steel-like prows, tapering sterns, and squat funnels belching smoke and steam, they had much the shape and appearance of warships, except that they displayed no masts or gun turrets. But little dark tubes curving from their sides did look somewhat like guns.

  "See the wheels!” yelled Clay, trying to make himself heard against the increasing uproar; and I saw that scores of wheels, each twenty or thirty feet across, were arranged all along the sides of the great machines, bearing them forward with the speed of an ocean liner.

  "Seem to be in a hurry!” I yelled back. Clay, no longer able to make his voice heard against the din of the approaching Titans, was nudging my elbow and pointing in great agitation to our left.

  From far down the cavern, three more land battleships were rumbling toward us, shooting out flashes of red and white lightning like a challenge, while hastening to meet the other Colossi as though intending a head-on collision.

  On and on, the two battle-monsters came, their forms half concealed in puffs and streamers of black smoke. Waving at the stern of one group, we could distinguish banners of yellow and purple, while the other group displayed green and vermilion flags; but otherwise it was hard to tell them apart. On the decks of all the vessels we could see swarms of animated black specks; from the curved tubes at their sides we observed darts of lightning shooting intermittently; and meantime, their rumbling and roaring was as of a thousand locomotives in simultaneous action.

  As they drew near one another, there came a prodigious hissing of steam. The five rushing monsters were obscured amid clouds of vapor, through which the blue and yellow lightning flared in innumerable bolts. Our aching ears caught the shock of a concussion so severe that for a second we were stunned; then other shocks, equally severe, as though a mile-high giant were striking blows with a sledge hammer.

  Slowly, the din subsided, the wavering ground regained its balance. For a minute we saw nothing; the depths were blanketed in a fuming yellow vapor, which obscured everything like a heavy fog and tormented our nostrils with acrid odors.

  Owing to our physical discomfort, we did not know how or when the mists were dissipated. But when at last Clay leaned once more across the cavern edge, he uttered a surprised, “Battle's over! Say, it looks like a tie!"

  "Tie?” I echoed, staring toward the pit. “But where under heaven are the fighters?"

  "There aren't any more fighters!” mumbled Clay, and this was the literal truth. The land-going battleships, which had snorted and thundered so violently a few minutes before, were no longer to be seen. The rocky ground, plowed up and torn as by Titanic dredges, had been beaten into ridges and furrows like the waves of a stormy sea; the opposite canyon wall had been wrecked, and great masses of broken boulders were heaped up where the porthole-like openings had stared.

  Here and there along the scarred and charred pit-floor, we saw twisted rods and wires, bent and dented iron plates, contorted coils, broken rods, fragments of wheels and axles.

  For a long while we gazed in silence at that desolate battlefield. Then Clay's lip curled in a faintly contemptuous expression. “You know, Frank, these caves must be inhabited by raving lunatics. Thank God, they haven't any atomic weapons. Why, if they had the sense of a two-year-old, they'd know enough not to fight when they'd all be blown to smithereens!"

  "Looks that way, doesn't it? But how could we expect to have any wars at all if everyone had the sense of a two-year-old?"

  From the cavern walls opposite us, where the little round openings had not been blown away in the recent engagement, a shaft of red lightning leapt, striking not many yards below us. And almost instantly another bolt shot out, and another, and another still, each coming nearer us than the last, while our ears rang with the uproar.

  We had been seen and mistaken for enemies.

  As we sprang up and away, a deafening crash resounded at our heels, and we knew that the ledge where we had lain had been shattered. The next instant, an even louder crash burst forth, and a huge rock mass, dislodged from the gallery roof, came roaring down almost at our feet.

  I darted off into the shelter of one of the many side-galleries, and did not halt even when reaching this relative safety, but kept on at full speed down the vaguely lighted corridor, until at last my pounding heart forced me to stop.

  Then, wheeling about, I was swept by new alarm. Where was Clay?

  Frenziedly I retraced my footsteps, back to the main corridor where I had last seen Clay, shouting his name. There was no reply. Finally, I entered the corridor and stared out across its greenish-yellow spaces. The gallery was empty.

  CHAPTER III

  THE CHALK-FACES

  For a long, blank moment I stood staring out across that deserted passageway; now that Clay was gone, it was as if the very underpinnings of my world had been torn away.

  I began racing up and down. I peered fruitlessly into the shadows of half a score side-galleries; and into each of them I called as loudly as my cracked and broken voice would permit. But still only ec
hoes replied.

  I had called into the tenth or eleventh passageway, when an answering yell met my ears—not the voice I sought, but a high-pitched cry in some unknown tongue.

  Almost at the same instant, an apparition glided forth amid the dimness of the side-gallery. Picture a man-sized figure, robed from head to foot in black, and with a sable hood, the shape of a fool's cap! Its face was chalky-white, and a toothless mouth gaped as the creature started forward with black-gloved hands extended, that shriek still shrilling from its lips.

  I did not take time for further observation.

  Despite all I had endured, my legs retained their vigor; not for nothing had I been on the track team at college. But as I rushed like a hounded deer along the main gallery, something tripped me, and I pitched head over heels.

  Hastily picking myself up, I was about to resume my flight when I found my path blocked. All about me, at distances of from ten to twenty yards, were dozens of strange beings.

  They were riding cross-legged on queer, low cars, of about the size and shape of children's coasters, three or four feet long, a foot high, and a foot-wide. Motors buzzed as they darted back and forth, frequently colliding with one another.

  Like the one who had started me on my flight, they were all black-clad from crown to heel; they all had snowy-white faces which seemed scarcely human. Their hair, protruding in long tufts from beneath their cone-shaped hats, was either paper-white or gray; their eyes, narrower than those of most men, gave the impression of being not fully open, and were pink or salmon-colored. Their noses were flat and stubby, their chins weak and almost unnoticeable, while their chests were so stooped and pinched that I could have believed the whole lot of them to be consumptives.

  Had it not been for the latter features, I might have mistaken them all for women, for they wore long skirts, which came down well beneath the knees. The impression of femininity was reinforced by the V-slits in the backs of their costumes, and the black penciling of their eyebrows, which were overlooked by little snakelike curves, painted as if for artistic effect.

  Although surrounding me, the creatures kept at a distance of not less than ten yards, while rolling restlessly back and forth in their little cars. Several of them carried long, dragon-shaped banners of green and vermilion, and others bore small, pistol-like implements, from which every now and then a lightning shaft flashed toward the ceiling.

  Several minutes went by, during which the creatures stared at me. They jabbered to one another in those peculiar high-pitched voices so unpleasant to my ears; others pointed at me with gestures that may have indicated surprise, derision, or anger. One of them even stepped forth a little, and addressed me in particularly loud and rasping tones, of which I could understand nothing.

  But when I, in my turn, called out to them as a test, “Who are you? Where am l?” they answered with a round of such unpleasant, grating laughter that I resolved to hold my tongue thenceforth.

  I do not know whether the people interpreted my words as mockery, or were incensed by my failure to answer them intelligibly; in any case, I could see an expression of hostility in their salmon-colored eyes. Nevertheless, I was little prepared for their next action. From a rifle-like machine in the hands of the foremost man, a coil of wire leapt forth; and, before I realized the intention or had had a chance to evade it, the coil had fallen over my neck and was tightening about my shoulders, drawing my arms together against my sides and binding me like a lassoed steer.

  Naturally, I struggled; but the chief effect was to provoke more laughter. The metal, thick as my index finger, would not yield to my most frantic efforts.

  After a minute or two, my captors began pulling at the wire. Some of the little coaster-like machines rolled behind me, and some rolled ahead, but none approached within ten yards. I was led away down one of the side-galleries like a dog at the end of a leash.

  * * * *

  So bewildered was I that for a long while I paid little heed to where we went. I only knew that we were making our way down, down, down, among a multitude of galleries that curved, and curved again, and branched and interbranched with baffling intricacy—galleries illuminated by a greenish-yellow glow from the multitudes of orbs fastened at regular intervals along the walls and ceiling.

  After a while, however, I began to take closer note of my surroundings. I remember, for example, catching a glimpse of a huge, rapidly revolving wheel, larger than a barn door, from which a strong draft of cool air was blowing. I saw through a half-closed gateway into a hall filled with machines as high as a five-story building; I was dazzled by flashes of sun-brilliant lights, and once or twice my cars were smitten with thunder blasts. I crossed a bridge over a subterranean torrent, in which I could see half-submerged, illuminated vessels. I passed walls lined with little round lighted windows, beyond which I could distinguish shadowy figures moving; I shuffled along corridors where pipes, coils, and strands of wire ran along the walls for great distances.

  Absorbed in these sights, I had regained something of my composure when, coming to the end of a narrow passageway, we found ourselves facing a thoroughfare. Along a gallery fifty or sixty yards across, a multitude of little cars were shooting back and forth with prodigious speed.

  None of them was any larger than the tiny machines of my captors; but all were moving with such velocity that it was almost impossible to follow their movements. They seemed to pursue no regular route, but looped and curved at crazy angles, and so many were the near-collisions that it made me dizzy merely to look at the vehicles.

  Across this mad avenue my captors set forth with the utmost nonchalance, weaving their way in and out unconcernedly. And I, though I strained back at my wire like a balky hound, was forced to follow. The diabolical little machines came racing toward me from all sides, and none would relax its speed as it approached. I felt one of them flitting just behind me with a rush of wind; another almost scraped the tips of my shoes as it darted in front of me; a third would certainly have ended my days on earth had it not swerved a fraction of an inch just as it was about to destroy me. By the time I had reached the further side, I was near to nervous prostration!

  I was just sighing with relief at my deliverance, when there came a loud crash from my rear; glancing back, I saw two of the cars jumbled together in a distorted heap, their drivers sprawled along the cavern floor. One of them, lying motionless, was evidently already beyond help; the second was twisting and groaning miserably. But no one seemed to pay any attention to them,

  Fifteen minutes later, we had reached our destination. We emerged into a long, straight cavern, with walls several hundred feet apart and a vaulted ceiling fifty yards high. One of my captors, flinging open a little door at one side, motioned me to enter.

  Not being allured by the vague, indistinctly lighted interior, I made no attempt to obey, at which my master seized a long two-pronged pole from the cavern wall and thrust the weapon forward so as to catch me between the prongs. Thus held, I was helpless; and though I roared my resentment, I was shoved through the doorway like a captive beast. The next moment, I heard the heavy hinges rattling shut, and the door slammed in my face.

  By the pale greenish-yellow light I found myself in a room about twenty-five feet square, with only one small window, and with a low ceiling that curved down almost to the floor. One or two stone benches and tables, but no chairs, were scattered about this compartment; while, at the further end, half a dozen white-faced and black-robed creatures were cowering.

  But when, with the friendliest of intentions, I approached these fellow prisoners, they cringed and withdrew into the remotest corner, trembling, and uttering menacing exclamations.

  Being denied their company, I let myself drop upon a stone bench across the room from them. Who were these chalk-faced people? How did they manage to live beneath the earth? Why had no one ever heard of them before? What did they intend to do with me? And what had happened to Clay?

  My head was aching, my tongue was growing dry, by the t
ime the prison door opened once more; one of the chalk-faces entered and deposited a bowl of water and some marble-sized purple pills on a table a few yards from me.

  To my surprise, my cell-mates all at once made a dash as if to seize these articles, but withdrew in a panic when I stepped forth, and I was left in undisputed possession of the prizes.

  At one gulp, I consumed the water; then, feeling somewhat better, took up the purple pills and examined them with interest. As I did so, it flashed over me that these might be poison, intended as an easy means of disposing of us all. What more natural, therefore, than that I should seize the pills and scatter them over the floor?

  With wild whoops and cries, my cell-mates leapt after the purple globules, each fighting to be first. Then, as if stricken blind, they began to grope as they drew near the objects, apparently locating them by touch alone.

  It was at this point that I made my first discovery about the chalk-faces. They were unable to see things clearly close at hand. My second discovery was that the purple pellets were food. That was evident from the way that my cell-mates, having found them, thrust them eagerly into their toothless mouths and smacked their lips in relish.

  Cursing my stupidity, I managed to seize the last of the globules, barely in time to save it from the chalk-faces. It had a nutty taste, though somewhat unpalatable due to the lack of salt. Evidently it was concentrated nourishment of a high quality; I felt a new surge of strength the moment I had consumed it.

  * * * *

  Two or three hours after my incarceration, the prison door was shoved violently inward, to admit a troop of ten beings, who had evidently made every effort to appear inhuman. The head of each was enveloped in a triangular mask of steel, which came to a hatchet point in front, and displayed apertures for the eyes, mouth, and nostrils. Their bodies were encased in dark cloth covered with flakes of steel, which clattered as they walked; their feet, which carried long, spike-like spurs both in front and behind, were clothed in iron-plated boots that came almost to the knees; their right hands bore shining weapons, shaped a little like sawed-off shotguns, the ends of which scintillated with flying sparks.