CHAPTER XXII
The Casting of the Shadow
Now we were racing down toward that last span whose ancientness hadset it apart from all the other soaring arches. The shell's speedslackened; we approached warily.
"We pass there?" asked O'Keefe.
The green dwarf nodded, pointing to the right where the bridge endedin a broad platform held high upon two gigantic piers, between whichran a spur from the glistening road. Platform and bridge were swarmingwith men-at-arms; they crowded the parapets, looking down upon uscuriously but with no evidence of hostility. Rador drew a deep breathof relief.
"We don't have to break our way through, then?" There wasdisappointment in the Irishman's voice.
"No use, _Larree_!" Smiling, Rador stopped the _corial_ just beneaththe arch and beside one of the piers. "Now, listen well. They have hadno 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 theShadow. Once I commanded here and I know its laws. This must I do--bycraft 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 inthe struggle life will be stripped of us all. Yet is it better to diefighting than to dance with the Shining One!"
He swept the shell around the pier. Opened a wide plaza paved withthe volcanic glass, but black as that down which we had sped from thechamber of the Moon Pool. It shone like a mirrored lakelet of jet; oneach side of it arose what at first glance seemed towering bulwarks ofthe same ebon obsidian; at second, revealed themselves as structureshewn and set in place by men; polished faces pierced by dozens ofhigh, narrow windows.
Down each facade a stairway fell, broken by small landings on which adoor opened; they dropped to a broad ledge of greyish stone edging thelip of this midnight pool and upon it also fell two wide flights fromeither side of the bridge platform. Along all four stairways theguards were ranged; and here and there against the ledge stood theshells--in a curiously comforting resemblance to parked motors in ourown world.
The sombre walls bulked high; curved and ended in two obeliskedpillars from which, like a tremendous curtain, stretched a barrier ofthat tenebrous gloom which, though weightless as shadow itself, I nowknew to be as impenetrable as the veil between life and death. In thismurk, unlike all others I had seen, I sensed movement, a quivering, atremor constant and rhythmic; not to be seen, yet caught by somesubtle sense; as though through it beat a swift pulse of--blacklight.
The green dwarf turned the _corial_ slowly to the edge at the right;crept cautiously on toward where, not more than a hundred feet fromthe barrier, a low, wide entrance opened in the fort. Guarding itsthreshold stood two guards, armed with broadswords, double-handed,terminating in a wide lunette mouthed with murderous fangs. These theyraised in salute and through the portal strode a dwarf huge as Rador,dressed as he and carrying only the poniard that was the badge ofoffice of Muria's captainry.
The green dwarf swept the shell expertly against the ledge; leapedout.
"Greeting, Serku!" he answered. "I was but looking for the _coria_ ofLakla."
"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 halfwas I myself deceived. "You let her _pass_?"
"Certainly I let her pass--" But under the green dwarf's stern gazethe 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 onSerku's forehead.
"Serku," interrupted the green dwarf swiftly, "truly is my heart wrungfor 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 ofLakla with these strangers to the Council. Now truly is my heartwrung, for there are few I would less like to see dance with theShining 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 nomessage--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. WithLakla scarce a _va_ ahead we can reach her before she enters thePortal. Lift you the Shadow--we will bring her back, and this will Ido for you, Serku."
Doubt tempered Serku's panic.
"Why not go alone, Rador, leaving the strangers here with me?" heasked--and I thought not unreasonably.
"Nay, then." The green dwarf was brusk. "Lakla will not return unlessI carry to her these men as evidence of our good faith. Come--we willspeak to Yolara and she shall judge you--" He started away--but Serkucaught his arm.
"No, Rador, no!" he whispered, again panic-stricken. "Go you--as youwill. But bring her back! Speed, Rador!" He sprang toward theentrance. "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 weregone.
"Fine work!" muttered Larry. "Nominated for a citizen of Ireland whenwe get out of this, one Rador of--"
The Shadow trembled--shuddered into nothingness; the obeliskedoutposts that had held it framed a ribbon of roadway, high banked withverdure, vanishing in green distances.
And then from the portal sped a shriek, a death cry! It cut throughthe silence of the ebon pit like a whimpering arrow. Before it haddied, down the stairways came pouring the guards. Those at thethreshold raised their swords and peered within. Abruptly Rador wasbetween them. One dropped his hilt and gripped him--the green dwarf'sponiard flashed and was buried in his throat. Down upon Rador's headswept the second blade. A flame leaped from O'Keefe's hand and thesword seemed to fling itself from its wielder's grasp--another flashand the soldier crumpled. Rador threw himself into the shell, dartedto the high seat--and straight between the pillars of the Shadow weflew!
There came a crackling, a darkness of vast wings flinging down uponus. The _corial's_ flight was checked as by a giant's hand. The shellswerved sickeningly; there was an oddly metallic splintering; itquivered; shot ahead. Dizzily I picked myself up and looked behind.
The Shadow had fallen--but too late, a bare instant too late. Andshrinking as we fled from it, still it seemed to strain like somefettered Afrit from Eblis, throbbing with wrath, seeking with everymalign power it possessed to break its bonds and pursue. Not untillong 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 anescaping bird.
"Snappy work, Rador!" It was Larry speaking. "But they cut the endoff 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 uponhow 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 havebeen 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 bloodstainedponiard--"Serku I was forced to slay. Even as he raised the Shadow theglobe gave the alarm. Lugur follows with twice ten times ten of hisbest--" He hesitated. "Though we have escaped the Shadow it has takentoll of our swiftness. May we reach the Portal before it closes uponLakla--but if we do not--" He paused again. "Well--I know a way--butit is not one I am gay to follow--no!"
He snapped open the aperture that held the ball flaming within thedark crystal; peered at it anxiously. I crept to the torn end of the_corial_. The edges were crumbling, disintegrated. They powdered in myfingers like dust. Mystified still, I crept back where Larry, sheerhappiness pouring from him, was whistl
ing softly and polishing up hisautomatic. His gaze fell upon Olaf's grim, sad face and softened.
"Buck up, Olaf!" he said. "We've got a good fighting chance. Once welink up with Lakla and her crowd I'm betting that we get yourwife--never doubt it! The baby--" he hesitated awkwardly. TheNorseman's eyes filled; he stretched a hand to the O'Keefe.
"The _Yndling_--she is of the _de Dode_," he half whispered, "of theblessed dead. For her I have no fear and for her vengeance will begiven me. _Ja!_ But my Helma--she is of the dead-alive--like those wesaw whirling like leaves in the light of the Shining Devil--and Iwould that she too were of _de Dode_--and at rest. I do not know howto 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 toas yet. Why, Olaf, suppose you took a Fijian when the war was on andset him suddenly down in London with autos rushing past, sirensblowing, Archies popping, a dozen enemy planes dropping bombs, and thesearchlights shooting all over the sky--wouldn't he think he was amongthirty-third degree devils in some exclusive circle of hell? Sure hewould! And yet everything he saw would be natural--just as natural asall this is, once we get the answer to it. Not that we're Fijians, ofcourse, 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 whyI have turned to Thor of the battles, _Ja!_ And _one_ have I hope in formine Helma--the white maiden. Since I have turned to the old gods ithas 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 whitemaiden."
"All right," said Larry, "but just don't be afraid of what you don'tunderstand. There's another thing"--he hesitated, nervously--"there'sanother thing that may startle you a bit when we meet up withLakla--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 thefrogs grow rather large where she lives, and they're a bit differenttoo. Well, Lakla's got a lot of 'em trained. Carry spears and clubsand all that junk--just like trained seals or monkeys or so on in thecircus. Probably a custom of the place. Nothing queer about that,Olaf. Why people have all kinds of pets--armadillos and snakes andrabbits, kangaroos and elephants and tigers."
Remembering how the frog-woman had stuck in Larry's mind from theoutset, I wondered whether all this was not more to convince himselfthan Olaf.
"Why, I remember a nice girl in Paris who had four pet pythons--" hewent on.
But I listened no more, for now I was sure of my surmise. The road hadbegun to thrust itself through high-flung, sharply pinnacled massesand rounded outcroppings of rock on which clung patches of the ambermoss.
The trees had utterly vanished, and studding the moss-carpeted plainswere only clumps of a willowy shrub from which hung, like grapes,clusters of white waxen blooms. The light too had changed; gone werethe dancing, sparkling atoms and the silver had faded to a soft,almost ashen greyness. Ahead of us marched a rampart of coppery cliffsrising, like all these mountainous walls we had seen, into theimmensities of haze. Something long drifting in my subconsciousnessturned to startled realization. The speed of the shell was slackening!The aperture containing the ionizing mechanism was still open; Iglanced within, The whirling ball of fire was not dimmed, but itscoruscations, instead of pouring down through the cylinder, swirledand 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 theroad was but a glistening thread, a score of shining points camespeeding.
"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 morethan three or four miles distant; in front of us the plain lifted in along rolling swell, and up this the _corial_ essayed to go--with aterrifying lessening of speed. Faintly behind us came shootings, andwe knew that Lugur drew close. Nor anywhere was there sign of Laklanor her frogmen.
Now we were half-way to the crest; the shell barely crawled and frombeneath it came a faint hissing; it quivered, and I knew that its basewas no longer held above the glassy surface but rested on it.
"One last chance!" exclaimed Rador. He pressed upon the control leverand wrenched it from its socket. Instantly the sparkling ballexpanded, whirling with prodigious rapidity and sending a cascade ofcoruscations into the cylinder. The shell rose; leaped through theair; 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 droppingdown the side of an enormous moss-covered, bowl-shaped valley whosesharply curved sides ended abruptly at the base of the toweringbarrier.
Then down the steep, powerless to guide or to check the shell, weplunged in a meteor rush straight for the annihilating adamantinebreasts of the cliffs!
Now the quick thinking of Larry's air training came to our aid. Asthe rampart reared close he threw himself upon Rador; hurled him andhimself against the side of the flying whorl. Under the shock thefinely balanced machine swerved from its course. It struck the soft,low bank of the road, shot high in air, bounded on through the thickcarpeting, whirled like a dervish and fell upon its side. Shot fromit, we rolled for yards, but the moss saved broken bones or seriousbruise.
"Quick!" cried the green dwarf. He seized an arm, dragged me to myfeet, began running to the cliff base not a hundred feet away. Besideus raced O'Keefe and Olaf. At our left was the black road. It stoppedabruptly--was cut off by a slab of polished crimson stone a hundredfeet high, and as wide, set within the coppery face of the barrier. Oneach side of it stood pillars, cut from the living rock and immense,almost, as those which held the rainbow veil of the Dweller. Acrossits face weaved unnameable carvings--but I had no time for more than aglance. 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 thiswe raced like rabbits. Hidden behind it was a narrow path. Crouching,Rador in the lead, we sped along it; three hundred, four hundred yardswe raced--and the path ended in a _cul de sac_! To our ears was bornea louder shouting.
The first of the pursuing shells had swept over the lip of the greatbowl, 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. Heraised his pistol.
His hand was caught in a mighty grip; Rador, eyes blazing, stoodbeside him.
"No!" rasped the green dwarf. He heaved a shoulder against one of theboulders that formed the pocket. It rocked aside, revealing a slit.
"In!" ordered he, straining against the weight of the stone. O'Keefeslipped through. Olaf at his back, I following. With a lightning leapthe dwarf was beside me, the huge rock missing him by a hair breadthas it swung into place!
We were in Cimmerian darkness. I felt for my pocket-flash andrecalled with distress that I had left it behind with my medicine kitwhen we fled from the gardens. But Rador seemed to need no light.
"Grip hands!" he ordered. We crept, single file, holding to eachother like children, through the black. At last the green dwarfpaused.
"Await me here," he whispered. "Do not move. And for your lives--besilent!"
And he was gone.
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