"Then how in the world can you hope to reach it?" exploded Clark, stiffening.
"There is only one way down to that cavern of the lake," Thargo told him. "It is a pit, or shaft, whose mouth is in the city of our enemies, Dordona, near the eastern edge of this land. The river that flows through the mountains runs across this whole land, and drops into that pit.
"Long ago," Thargo continued, "our ancestors came into this land from the outside world. They climbed over the mountains, for at that time, so legend says, it was not death to tread the mountains, as it is now. They explored the land, and found the pit into which the river falls, and went down that pit into the cavern where lies the Lake of Life. And they learned that if they drank those waters they would become immortal, but they were forbidden to drink of them.
"They were forbidden, they said, by W. T.-.S
465
strange, unhumart beings who dwelled down in the cavern of the lake and guarded its waters of immortality. These beings, the Guardians, bade those exploring humans to return to the surface, and never again come down to drink of the waters, since that was an unholy thing. So the men returned in fear to the surface, obeying the command. And legend says that the Guardians then cast a deadly force on the mountains around this land, which still invests them, so that no more men might enter this land in future.
"The people who were already within this land founded a city around the mouth of that shaft to the underworld. They called the city Dordona and over the mouth of the pit they built a temple. They considered it blasphemy for any to think of descending the pit to the Lake of Immortality and, in their superstition, they slew any who dared to try it. For they were in great fear of the Guardians they believed dwelling below, though none but the first explorers had ever seen those beings.
"But as generations passed, age after age, rebellion grew up in the city Dordona. Many of its people said, 'Why should we die when beneath our feet lie the waters of immortality? Who are the Guardians, to forbid us the lake? Let us not allow them to monopolize the waters of immortality longer; let us go down and drink of them whether they permit it or not, so that we may become undying.' "
Thargo's fist clenched, his eyes glittered, as he continued, "Thus spake the rebellious ones in Dordona! They sought by force to enter the pit and descend to the lake. But most of the Dordonans were still swayed by superstitious fears of the mysterious Guardians. They put down the rebels by force, prevented them from entering the pit. After that, the rebels deserted Dordona and came here W. T—6
to the western edge of this land and founded a new city, this city of K'Lamm.
"And ever since then, we of K'Lamm have desired to go back and conquer the Dordonans and go down the pit to the Lake of Life. We had not the strength, at first. But during past generations, more and more people have deserted from Dordona to our city, coming to believe as we do that it is folly to grow old and die when immortality is in our grasp. So that now, stranger, we of K'Lamm are powerful enough at last to attack Dordona, crush the superstitious Blacks, force our way down to the shining lake, and drink its waters and achieve immortality!"
"You actually believe, then," Clark Stannard said incredulously, "that the waters of the lake would confer immortality?"
"I am sure of it!" Thargo said, his eyes flashing. "If we drink of them we shall never die* for they contain the pure essence of life itself. That fact, our exploring ancestors were sure about."
"Yet you're not afraid of meeting the legended Guardians, if you penetrate to the lake? 1 ' Clark asked curiously.
Thargo laughed contemptuously. "The Guardians do not frighten us, for we do not think they still watch down there by the lake. No man has seen them for ages, and even the few who saw them ages ago were not slain by them. I think that even if the Guardians still exist down there, they will not be able to stop us."
Here was a frank, unfearing skeptic, Clark thought. It was odd that while Thargo was so skeptical of the dreaded Guardians, he still believed in the impossible virtues of the shining lake.
"Why," Clark asked bluntly, "do you want our help, if you have enough forces to overwhelm Dordona, as you say?"
"We want it," Thargo said frankly,
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"not because we need your help—easily can we overcome Dordona—but because we do not want you against us, strangers, with your strange, powerful weapons. And for reward for joining us," the Red king added, "you shall drink the waters of the Lake of Life with us. You will become immortal, strangers, as we will."
Thargo's black eyes Bashed with strange light, his fist clenched tight, his voice pregnant with emotion.
"To be immortal—think what that will mean! To stride the world undying, generation after generation, feared and worshipped by the races that continue to die! By the sun, once I have drunk those waters of undying life, I will go forth from this prisoned land, will rule "
He stopped abruptly, glancing at Clark with narrowed eyes. Then he continued in a smooth, lower tone.
"But what is your answer, stranger, now that you know the situation? Do you join forces with us to attack Dordona?"
Clark hesitated. A strong instinct told him not to commit himself.
"I think we will join you," he said slowly, "but before I give my word on it, I must speak with my followers. If we do join you, our reward is to be as much of the shining waters as we wish to take."
"Has that Dordonan wench Lurain tried to turn you against me?" Thargo asked suspiciously. "Has she endeavored to make you an ally of her doomed people?"
"She tried to kill me, but an hour ago," Clark said tartly. "There's no danger of my becoming her ally."
Yet it seemed to him that smoldering suspicion persisted in Thargo's eyes. Then the Red king laughed and exclaimed:
"But we will talk further of this in the morning. We neglect the feast."
He raised his big hand in a signal. From an alcove suddenly thrummed music, weird harmonies of pi ucked strings. It throbbed louder, wilder, and a score of supple girls in shimmering veils rushed lightly to the center of the torch-lit hall.
They began to dance in the space between the tables, swaying, whirling and undulating to the barbaric rush of the music, their white limbs gleaming through the gossamer of the swirling veils.
"Whoopee!" shouted Mike Shinn happily over the wild music, from down the table. "This is better than a night-club."
"Don't bother me, Mike," drawled Link Wilson, his tanned reckless face bending toward a laughing girl beside him. "I'm doin' right fine in sign-language with this mncbacha."
"I'll say this beats that damned jungle, anyway," Clark heard Blacky Cain saying with a rasping chuckle.
But Lieutenant Morrow sat drinking and staring moodily, with bitter eyes, at the whirling, weaving girls.
"You do not drink, lord from outside?" a soft voice reproached Clark. It was Yala, the sister of Thargo, bending toward him, her slender white fingers extending a goblet of the black, thick wine. "Is our wine then so poor beside that of the outside world?"
Clark took the goblet, tasted the liquor. It was heady stuff, potent, strangely scented. Yala's languorous eyes approved as he drained the cup. An alert servant refilled it from a flagon.
"Aye, drink all!" boomed Thargo's powerful voice over the music. "Drink to the day that is almost here, the day when we of K'Lamm win at last to the shining waters that will make us all undying."
"To the day!" shouted the excited, half-intoxicated feasters, draining the
THE LAKE
goblets and setting them down with a crash.
Clark Stannard felt sudden heady exaltation as he set down the goblet for the second time. The wine sang in his veins and suddenly life seemed wild, sweet, thrilling. It was good to have done with the old and outworn things of the world he had known, to sit here with this company in feast.
They were a good crowd, he thought warmly, as he drained the goblet again. They were making his men welcome, for now Mike Shinn was standing up and be
llowing an Irish song, and they were laughing and applauding. Morrow was drinking heavily, silently, and the lank Texan had his arm around the girl next to him, and only Blacky Cain's dark, predatory face still remained watchful as the gangster sat there. What the deuce was Blacky so watchful about?—everyone here was their friend.
Thargo's powerful face had a smile of complete friendliness on it. Damned good scout, Thargo—by heaven, he and his men would help Thargo conquer those superstitious Dordonans! And the girl Yala swaying languorously closer to him, perfumed white shoulders and breasts rising out of her red chiton like a great lily, brooding sweetness of her black eyes making Clark's swimming senses reel!
"Are many men of the outer world as hard and handsome of face as you, lord from outside?" she whispered.
"That may be," Clark laughed, "but of this I'm sure—no women of that outer world are as beautiful as you, princess."
Her eyes were melting as she swayed closer, and slender satin fingers touched and twined about his in electrical contact.
Then as he bent unsteadily toward Yala, Clark just glimpsed an upward, meaning flash of her dark eyes, directed
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at Thargo. It chilled instantly through the winy haze around Clark's brain.
Danger here! shouted an alarmed voice inside him. He realized suddenly how near he was to intoxication. That wine— he'd already tossed off three or four goblets of it. And Yala was proffering him another beaker of the black stuff, with a soft smile.
"Wine brings gracious compliments from you, lord from outside. I would hear more—so drink."
Clark took the goblet. But now his half-hazy brain raced. Yala was trying to get him drunk, that was certain, and from the glance he had intercepted, he knew it was at Thargo's orders.
Nevertheless he took the goblet. But as he raised it, Clark feigned a far greater dazedness than he felt, letting his gaze wander dully, making his tongue thick when he spoke.
"Shouldn't drink any more," he muttered thickly to the leaning princess. "Doesn't take much—to knock me out."
"But you do not wish, surely, to deprive me of further compliments?" Yala's red, ripe mouth pouted bewitchingly.
Clark laughed unsteadily, though inwardly he was cold and alert. "Never— never say no to a lady. Here's to your eyes!"
He drained the goblet. The heady wine made his half-numbed senses spin, but he resolutely kept his head. Yet he feigned now a complete intoxication, hurled the glass away with a drunken laugh.
"Yala, I could give you compliments all night," he said maudlinly. "You're most — most beautiful woman — ever lived."
As his eyelids pretended to droop, Clark caught again that significant glance from the girl to her brother. Then she was leaning, her warm breath whispering in his ears.
"Would "Ou rather Ull me those
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things where there are not so many to listen, lord from outside?" she murmured.
"Sure, that's what we need —- a little more quiet," Clark said sleepily. "My head, too—feels funny "
"Come with me," she whispered softly. "I will take you where it is quiet —and where you can tell me all those things."
Her soft hand under his elbow impelled him to his feet. Clark swayed unsteadily, blinking owlishly over the torch-Jit hall and the noisy, riotous feasters. His dulled gaze was really keenly alert. He perceived that Shinn and Link Wilson were at the height of merriment with their Red neighbors, and that Morrow was still drinking heavily. But Blacky Cain was still alert, could be depended on to watch the others.
None of the feasters, in the din of laughter, clinking goblets and shouting voices, noticed as Clark Stan-nard stumbled out of the hall with Yala half supporting him. Yet Clark glimpsed Thargo looking keenly after them.
He stumbled with the princess of K'Lamm down shadowy stone halls, and finally into a great chamber which breathed of femininity. Silken hangings of yellow were on the walls, in the soft light of low-burning torches. Across the room was a low, soft silken couch, and above it a great window looked across the starlit roofs of K'Lamm.
Yala spoke a few soft words, and the two submissive-looking girls who had hurried forward, hastily withdrew. The Red princess led Clark to the couch, and as he sat down unsteadily, looking heavily about, she* poured more of the black wine from a flagon in the room.
She drank also, her dark eyes looking over the rim of the glass with an expression that, despite himself, stirred his
blood. Then she held the glass to his lips, her fingertips caressing his cheek.
"Drink with me to our—friendship," she murmured.
Clark drank. His brain seemed to float inside his skull as the additional alcohol leaped into his blood, but every fiber in him was taut and alert. He blinked at Yala as though she was hard for him to see. She came temptingly closer to him.
"Does the wine make me look—more beautiful?" she asked provocatively. Her arms went softly around his neck.
"Don't need wine for that," muttered Clark. He set bis lips against her half-opened ones, his hands tightening on her bare, perfumed shoulders.
He knew the kiss was as feigned on her part as on his own. But for ail that, it was none the less wildly thrilling. Then as she drew back a little from his embrace, eyes searching his dazed-looking face, Yala asked him seductively:
"Lord, tell me—am I more beautiful than the Dordonan girl you took captive —Lurain?"
"Much—much more beautiful," stammered Clark, his eyelids drooping, "She's just—little wildcat."
"Has Lurain asked you and your men to help Dordona in the coming war?" Yala asked him swiftly. "Has she made any offers to get you to ally yourselves with Dordona?"
Now, Clark knew suddenly, he had discovered the reason for this subtle temptation by Yala. Thargo was suspicious! Suspicious that Clark might have agreed with the Dordonan girl to aid her people, that he might be intending to betray K'Lamm! Thargo had had this girl, one capable of tempting an angel, get him intoxicated to question him.
"Lurain has not asked me to help Dordona," Clark said thickly, his eyes closing, his body swaying sleepily against Yala. "I—wouldn't listen to her if she
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469
did. The Dordonans she led tried to kill me and my men. We're—going to help Thargo conquer their city."
He heard the hiss of Yala's indrawn breath. Then she murmured softly, "You are tired, lord from outside. You must rest."
He let himself fall like a log onto the soft couch as she lowered him. Then he heard YaJa stand up quickly. She bent over him as he lay with eyes closed, her breath warm on his face. He breathed in long snores, pretending heavy, drunken sleep.
Satisfied, Yala went to the door of the chamber and uttered a low call. Almost at once, Clark heard the tramp of heavier feet entering the chamber, two pairs of them. The first voice that spoke was Thargo's. He guessed the Red king had been waiting outside.
"You heard?" Yala was saying swiftly. "He is safely on our side—he will have nothing to do with Dordona."
"Yes, I heard," Thargo said. "I was suspicious because he would not give up the Dordonan princess to us. But no doubt he is keeping the girl for himself, simply because she is pretty."
"That half-boy fighting cat!" said Yala scornfully. "What would any man want with her?"
The voice of Thargo's companion interrupted. It was an age-cracked, ominous voice Clark guessed to be that of the withered old counsellor he had seen with Thargo when he had first met the Red king.
"Better to slay all these strangers tonight, by surprize, and make sure," he warned. "We of K'Lamm have more than enough force to conquer Dordona and win to the lake. We do not need the strangers' help."
"No, we will not slay them, Shama— not yet," Thargo said authoritatively. "Their weapons are powerful, from what
Dral says. They might kill many of us before we slew them all, and that would be bad for the minds of our people at this time when we are on the-very verge of our lon
g-planned attack on Dordona. Besides, why not make use of these strangers to make our conquest even easier?
"This is what we shall do," he continued in a hard, rapid voice. "Four days from now, as we have planned, we ride to attack Dordona, and the strangers go with us. In the attack on the Black city, we will put them in the forefront. As soon as we have won Dordona and our way down to the Lake of Life lies clear and open, then we shall turn suddenly on the strangers and kill them all."
8. The Vigbt at the Gate
IT WAS all Clark Stannard could do to keep his body from stiffening betray-ingly as he lay in pretended drunken sleep, listening to those calmly treacherous words. Blind fury burned in him as he heard Thargo's callous plan to make use of him, then dispose of him. Yet he managed to preserve his appearance of intoxicated stupor. His muscles tensed as he heard Thargo's strong step come over to the couch, and he knew that the Red king was looking down at him.
"This drunken fool!" said Thargo contemptuously. "If he is a sample of the men of the outside world, they will not be hard for us to rule, once we have drunk of the lake and are immortal."
"Be not so sure," warned the old counsellor, Shama. "This man and his comrades have courage and cunning, or they could not have penetrated the death mountains no men ever came through before."
"He was not cunning enough," Thargo said scornfully, "to prevent a woman's eyes from making a sot of him. You did
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well -what I asked, my sister. In fact, the task did not seem distasteful to you."
"Perhaps not," Yala said* with a soft laugh. "Fool he may be, but this man is —different. Until he and his men ride with your forces to Dordona four days hence, I think to find him amusing."
"That is your affair," Thargo said indifferently. "Best get him back to his chambers now before his men miss him. Shama and I return to the feast."
Clark heard the ruthless plotter and the aged counsellor leave. Then Yala bent over him, holding a pungent liquid to his nose and shaking him softly.
Weird Tales volume 30 number 04 Page 14