The Moon Pool

by Abraham Grace Merritt

  And again she laughed—and again Lugur and all the fairhaired joined in her laughter.

  Into the eyes of Lakla I saw creep a doubt, a wavering; as though deep within her the foundations of her own belief were none too firm.

  She hesitated, turning upon O'Keefe gaze in which rested more than suggestion of appeal! And Yolara saw, too, for she flushed with triumph, stretched a finger toward the handmaiden.

  "Look!" she cried. "Look! Why, even she does not believe!" Her voice grew silk of silver—merciless, cruel. "Now am I minded to send another answer to the Silent Ones. Yea! But not by you, Lakla; by these"—she pointed to the frog-men, and, swift as light, her hand darted into her bosom, bringing forth the little shining cone of death.

  But before she could level it the Golden Girl had released that hidden left arm and thrown over her face a fold of the metallic swathings. Swifter than Yolara, she raised the arm that held the vine—and now I knew this was no inert blossoming thing.

  It was alive!

  It writhed down her arm, and its five rubescent flower heads thrust out toward the priestess—vibrating, quivering, held in leash only by the light touch of the handmaiden at its very end.

  From the swelling throat pouch of the monster behind her came a succession of the reverberant boomings. The frogmen wheeled, raised their lances, levelled them at the throng. Around the reaching ruby flowers a faint red mist swiftly grew.

  The silver cone dropped from Yolara's rigid fingers; her eyes grew stark with horror; all her unearthly loveliness fled from her; she stood pale-lipped. The Handmaiden dropped the protecting veil—and now it was she who laughed.

  "It would seem, then, Yolara, that there is a thing of the Silent Ones ye fear!" she said. "Well—the kiss of the Yekta I promise you in return for the embrace of your Shining One."

  She looked at Larry, long, searchingly, and suddenly again with all that effect of sunlight bursting into dark places, her smile shone upon him. She nodded, half gaily; looked down upon me, the little merry light dancing in her eyes; waved her hand to me.

  She spoke to the giant frog-man. He wheeled behind her as she turned, facing the priestess, club upraised, fangs glistening. His troop moved not a jot, spears held high. Lakla began to pass slowly—almost, I thought, tauntingly—and as she reached the portal Larry leaped from the dais.

  "Alanna!" he cried. "You'll not be leavin' me just when I've found you!"

  In his excitement he spoke in his own tongue, the velvet brogue appealing. Lakla turned, contemplated O'Keefe, hesitant, unquestionably longingly, irresistibly like a child making up her mind whether she dared or dared not take a delectable something offered her.

  "I go with you," said O'Keefe, this time in her own speech. "Come on, Doc!" He reached out a hand to me.

  But now Yolara spoke. Life and beauty had flowed back into her face, and in the purple eyes all her hosts of devils were gathered.

  "Do you forget what I promised you before Siya and Siyana? And do you think that you can leave me—me—as though I were a choya—like her." She pointed to Lakla. "Do you—"

  "Now, listen, Yolara," Larry interrupted almost plaintively. "No promise has passed from me to you—and why would you hold me?" He passed unconsciously into English. "Be a good sport, Yolara," he urged, "You have got a very devil of a temper, you know, and so have I; and we'd be really awfully uncomfortable together. And why don't you get rid of that devilish pet of yours, and be good!"

  She looked at him, puzzled, Marakinoff leaned over, translated to Lugur. The red dwarf smiled maliciously, drew near the priestess; whispered to her what was without doubt as near as he could come in the Murian to Larry's own very colloquial phrases.

  Yolara's lips writhed.

  "Hear me, Lakla!" she cried. "Now would I not let you take this man from me were I to dwell ten thousand laya in the agony of the Yekta's kiss. This I swear to you—by Thanaroa, by my heart, and by my strength—and may my strength wither, my heart rot in my breast, and Thanaroa forget me if I do!"

  "Listen, Yolara"—began O'Keefe again.

  "Be silent, you!" It was almost a shriek. And her hand again sought in her breast for the cone of rhythmic death.

  Lugur touched her arm, whispered again, The glint of guile shone in her eyes; she laughed softly, relaxed.

  "The Silent Ones, Lakla, bade you say that they—allowed—me three tal to decide," she said suavely. "Go now in peace, Lakla, and say that Yolara has heard, and that for the three tal they—allow—her she will take council." The handmaiden hesitated.

  "The Silent Ones have said it," she answered at last. "Stay you here, strangers"—-the long lashes drooped as her eyes met O'Keefe's and a hint of blush was in her cheeks—"stay you here, strangers, till then. But, Yolara, see you on that heart and strength you have sworn by that they come to no harm—else that which you have invoked shall come upon you swiftly indeed—and that I promise you," she added.

  Their eyes met, clashed, burned into each other—black flame from Abaddon and golden flame from Paradise.

  "Remember!" said Lakla, and passed through the portal. The gigantic frog-man boomed a thunderous note of command, his grotesque guards turned and slowly followed their mistress; and last of all passed out the monster with the mace.

  CHAPTER XXI

  Larry's Defiance

  A clamour arose from all the chambers; stilled in an instant by a motion of Yolara's hand. She stood silent, regarding O'Keefe with something other now than blind wrath; something half regretful, half beseeching. But the Irishman's control was gone.

  "Yolara,"—his voice shook with rage, and he threw caution to the wind—"now hear me. I go where I will and when I will. Here shall we stay until the time she named is come. And then we follow her, whether you will or not. And if any should have thought to stop us—tell them of that flame that shattered the vase," he added grimly.

  The wistfulness died out of her eyes, leaving them cold. But no answer made she to him.

  "What Lakla has said, the Council must consider, and at once." The priestess was facing the nobles. "Now, friends of mine, and friends of Lugur, must all feud, all rancour, between us end." She glanced swiftly at Lugur. "The ladala are stirring, and the Silent Ones threaten. Yet fear not—for are we not strong under the Shining One? And now—leave us."

  Her hand dropped to the table, and she gave, evidently, a signal, for in marched a dozen or more of the green dwarfs.

  "Take these two to their place," she commanded, pointing to us.

  The green dwarfs clustered about us. Without another look at the priestess O'Keefe marched beside me, between them, from the chamber. And it was not until we had reached the pillared entrance that Larry spoke.

  "I hate to talk like that to a woman, Doc," he said, "and a pretty woman, at that. But first she played me with a marked deck, and then not only pinched all the chips, but drew a gun on me. What the hell! she nearly had me—married—to her. I don't know what the stuff was she gave me; but, take it from me, if I had the recipe for that brew I could sell it for a thousand dollars a jolt at Forty-second and Broadway.

  "One jigger of it, and you forget there is a trouble in the world; three of them, and you forget there is a world. No excuse for it, Doc; and I don't care what you say or what Lakla may say—it wasn't my fault, and I don't hold it up against myself for a damn."

  "I must admit that I'm a bit uneasy about her threats," I said, ignoring all this. He stopped abruptly.

  "What're you afraid of?"

  "Mostly," I answered dryly, "I have no desire to dance with the Shining One!"

  "Listen to me, Goodwin," He took up his walk impatiently. "I've all the love and admiration for you in the world; but this place has got your nerve. Hereafter one Larry O'Keefe, of Ireland and the little old U. S. A., leads this party. Nix on the tremolo stop, nix on the superstition! I'm the works. Get me?"

  "Yes, I get you!" I exclaimed testily enough. "But to use your own phrase, kindly can the repeated references to superstition."
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  "Why should I?" He was almost wrathful. "You scientific people build up whole philosophies on the basis of things you never saw, and you scoff at people who believe in other things that you think they never saw and that don't come under what you label scientific. You talk about paradoxes—why, your scientist, who thinks he is the most skeptical, the most materialistic aggregation of atoms ever gathered at the exact mathematical centre of Missouri, has more blind faith than a dervish, and more credulity, more superstition, than a cross-eyed smoke beating it past a country graveyard in the dark of the moon!"

  "Larry!" I cried, dazed.

  "Olaf's no better," he said. "But I can make allowances for him. He's a sailor. No, sir. What this expedition needs is a man without superstition. And remember this. The leprechaun promised that I'd have full warning before anything happened. And if we do have to go out, we'll see that banshee bunch clean up before we do, and pass in a blaze of glory. And don't forget it. Hereafter—I'm—in—charge!"

  By this time we were before our pavilion; and neither of us in a very amiable mood I'm afraid. Rador was awaiting us with a score of his men.

  "Let none pass in here without authority—and let none pass out unless I accompany them," he ordered bruskly. "Summon one of the swiftest of the coria and have it wait in readiness," he added, as though by afterthought.

  But when we had entered and the screens were drawn together his manner changed; all eagerness he questioned us. Briefly we told him of the happenings at the feast, of Lakla's dramatic interruption, and of what had followed.

  "Three tal," he said musingly; "three tal the Silent Ones have allowed—and Yolara agreed." He sank back, silent and thoughtful.[1]

  "Ja!" It was Olaf. "Ja! I told you the Shining Devil's mistress was all evil. Ja! Now I begin again that tale I started when he came"—he glanced toward the preoccupied Rador. "And tell him not what I say should he ask. For I trust none here in Trolldom, save the Jomfrau—the White Virgin!

  "After the oldster was adsprede"—Olaf once more used that expressive Norwegian word for the dissolving of Songar—"I knew that it was a time for cunning. I said to myself, 'If they think I have no ears to hear, they will speak; and it may be I will find a way to save my Helma and Dr. Goodwin's friends, too.' Ja, and they did speak.

  "The red Trolde asked the Russian how came it he was a worshipper of Thanaroa." I could not resist a swift glance of triumph toward O'Keefe. "And the Russian," rumbled Olaf, "said that all his people worshipped Thanaroa and had fought against the other nations that denied him.

  "And then we had come to Lugur's palace. They put me in rooms, and there came to me men who rubbed and oiled me and loosened my muscles. The next day I wrestled with a great dwarf they called Valdor. He was a mighty man, and long we struggled, and at last I broke his back. And Lugur was pleased, so that I sat with him at feast and with the Russian, too. And again, not knowing that I understood them, they talked.

  "The Russian had gone fast and far. They talked of Lugur as emperor of all Europe, and Marakinoff under him. They spoke of the green light that shook life from the oldster; and Lugur said that the secret of it had been the Ancient Ones' and that the Council had not too much of it. But the Russian said that among his race were many wise men who could make more once they had studied it.

  "And the next day I wrestled with a great dwarf named Tahola, mightier far than Valdor. Him I threw after a long, long time, and his back also I broke. Again Lugur was pleased. And again we sat at table, he and the Russian and I. This time they spoke of something these Trolde have which opens up a Svaelc—abysses into which all in its range drops up into the sky!"

  "What!" I exclaimed.

  "I know about them," said Larry. "Wait!"

  "Lugur had drunk much," went on Olaf. "He was boastful. The Russian pressed him to show this thing. After a while the red one went out and came back with a little golden box. He and the Russian went into the garden. I followed them. There was a lille Hoj—a mound—of stones in that garden on which grew flowers and trees.

  "Lugur pressed upon the box, and a spark no bigger than a sand grain leaped out and fell beside the stones. Lugur pressed again, and a blue light shot from the box and lighted on the spark. The spark that had been no bigger than a grain of sand grew and grew as the blue struck it. And then there was a sighing, a wind blew—and the stones and the flowers and the trees were not. They were forsvinde—vanished!

  "Then Lugur, who had been laughing, grew quickly sober; for he thrust the Russian back—far back. And soon down into the garden came tumbling the stones and the trees, but broken and shattered, and falling as though from a great height. And Lugur said that of this something they had much, for its making was a secret handed down by their own forefathers and not by the Ancient Ones.

  "They feared to use it, he said, for a spark thrice as large as that he had used would have sent all that garden falling upward and might have opened a way to the outside before—he said just this—'before we are ready to go out into it!'

  "The Russian questioned much, but Lugur sent for more drink and grew merrier and threatened him, and the Russian was silent through fear. Thereafter I listened when I could, and little more I learned, but that little enough. Ja! Lugur is hot for conquest; so Yolara and so the Council. They tire of it here and the Silent Ones make their minds not too easy, no, even though they jeer at them! And this they plan—to rule our world with their Shining Devil."

  The Norseman was silent for a moment; then voice deep, trembling—

  "Trolldom is awake; Helvede crouches at Earth Gate whining to be loosed into a world already devil ridden! And we are but three!"

  I felt the blood drive out of my heart. But Larry's was the fighting face of the O'Keefes of a thousand years. Rador glanced at him, arose, stepped through the curtains; returned swiftly with the Irishman's uniform.

  "Put it on," he said, bruskly; again fell back into his silence and whatever O'Keefe had been about to say was submerged in his wild and joyful whoop. He ripped from him glittering tunic and leg swathings.

  "Richard is himself again!" he shouted; and each garment as he donned it, fanned his old devil-may-care confidence to a higher flame. The last scrap of it on, he drew himself up before us.

  "Bow down, ye divils!" he cried. "Bang your heads on the floor and do homage to Larry the First, Emperor of Great Britain, Autocrat of all Ireland, Scotland, England, and Wales, and adjacent waters and islands! Kneel, ye scuts, kneel."

  "Larry," I cried, "are you going crazy?"

  "Not a bit of it," he said. "I'm that and more if Comrade Marakinoff is on the level. Whoop! Bring forth the royal jewels an' put a whole new bunch of golden strings in Tara's harp an' down with the Sassenach forever! Whoop!"

  He did a wild jig.

  "Lord how good the old togs feel," he grinned. "The touch of 'em has gone to my head. But it's straight stuff I'm telling you about my empire."

  He sobered.

  "Not that it's not serious enough at that. A lot that Olaf's told us I've surmised from hints dropped by Yolara. But I got the full key to it from the Red himself when he stopped me just before—before"—he reddened—"well, just before I acquired that brand-new brand of souse.

  "Maybe he had a hint—maybe he just surmised that I knew a lot more than I did. And he thought Yolara and I were going to be loving little turtle doves. Also he figured that Yolara had a lot more influence with the Unholy Fireworks than Lugur. Also that being a woman she could be more easily handled. All this being so, what was the logical thing for himself to do? Sure, you get me, Steve! Throw down Lugur and make an alliance with me! So he calmly offered to ditch the red dwarf if I would deliver Yolara. My reward from Russia was to be said emperorship! Can you beat it? Good Lord!"

  He went off into a perfect storm of laughter. But not to me in the light of what Russia has done and has proved herself capable, did this thing seem at all absurd; rather in it I sensed the dawn of catastrophe colossal.

  "And yet," he was quiet enou
gh now, "I'm a bit scared. They've got the Keth ray and those gravity-destroying bombs—"

  "Gravity-destroying bombs!" I gasped.

  "Sure," he said. "The little fairy that sent the trees and stones kiting up from Lugur's garden. Marakinoff licked his lips over them. They cut off gravity, just about as the shadow screens cut off light—and consequently whatever's in their range goes shooting just naturally up to the moon—

  "They get my goat, why deny it?" went on Larry. "With them and the Keth and gentle invisible soldiers walking around assassinating at will—well, the worst Bolsheviki are only puling babes, eh, Doc?

  "I don't mind the Shining One," said O'Keefe, "one splash of a downtown New York high-pressure fire hose would do for it! But the others—are the goods! Believe me!"

  But for once O'Keefe's confidence found no echo within me. Not lightly, as he, did I hold that dread mystery, the Dweller—and a vision passed before me, a vision of an Apocalypse undreamed by the Evangelist.

  A vision of the Shining One swirling into our world, a monstrous, glorious flaming pillar of incarnate, eternal Evil—of peoples passing through its radiant embrace into that hideous, unearthly life-in-death which I had seen enfold the sacrifices—of armies trembling into dancing atoms of diamond dust beneath the green ray's rhythmic death—of cities rushing out into space upon the wings of that other demoniac force which Olaf had watched at work—of a haunted world through which the assassins of the Dweller's court stole invisible, carrying with them every passion of hell—of the rallying to the Thing of every sinister soul and of the weak and the unbalanced, mystics and carnivores of humanity alike; for well I knew that, once loosed, not any nation could hold this devil-god for long and that swiftly its blight would spread!

  And then a world that was all colossal reek of cruelty and terror; a welter of lusts, of hatreds and of torment; a chaos of horror in which the Dweller waxing ever stronger, the ghastly hordes of those it had consumed growing ever greater, wreaked its inhuman will!