Later, I travelled over to the North Eastern wall of the Redoubt, and looked thence with my spy-glass at the Watcher of the North East—the Crowned Watcher it was called, in that within the air above its vast head there hung always a blue, luminous ring, which shed a strange light downwards over the monster—showing a vast, wrinkled brow (upon which an whole library has been writ); but putting to the shadow all the lower face; all save the ear, which came out from the back of its head, and belled towards the Redoubt, and had been said by some observers in the past to have been seen to quiver: but how that may be, I know not; for no man of our days had seen such a thing.
And beyond the Watching Thing, was The Place Where The Silent Ones Are Never, close by the great road; which was bounded upon the far side by The Giant’s Sea; and upon the far side of that was a Road which was always named The Road by the Quiet City; for it passed along that place where burned forever the constant and never moving lights of a strange city; but no glass had ever shown life there; neither had any light ever ceased to burn. And beyond that again was The Black Mist. And here, let me say, that The Valley of The Hounds ended towards the Lights of the Quiet City.
And so have I set out something of that land, and of those creatures and circumstances which beset us about, waiting until the Day of Doom, when our Earth Current should cease, and leave us helpless to the Watchers, and the abundant terrors. And there I stood, and looked forth composedly, as may one who has been born to know of such matters, and reared in the knowledge of them. And, anon, I would look upward, and see the grey, metalled mountain going up measureless into the gloom of the everlasting night; and from my feet the sheer downward sweep of the grim, metal walls, four full miles, or more, to the plain below.
And one thing (aye! and I fear me, many) have I missed to set out clearly. There was all around the base of the Pyramid, which was five and one-quarter miles every way, a great circle of light which was set up by the Earth Current, and burned within a transparent tube; or had that appearance. And it bounded the Pyramid for a clear mile upon every side, and burned forever; and none of the monsters dared ever to pass across, neither had the Evil Powers ability to cause harm to any within; yet there were some dangers against which it might not avail; but these had no cunning to bring harm to any within the Great Redoubt, who had wisdom to meddle with no dreadfulness. And so were those last millions guarded until the Earth Current should be used to its end. And this circle is that which I have called the Electric Circle; though with failure to explain. But there it was called The Circle.
And thus have I, with great effort, made a little clear that grim land of night, where, presently, my listening heard one calling across the dark. And how that this grew upon me, I will set out forthwith.
Now, oft had I heard tell, not only in that great city which occupied the thousandth floor, but in others of the one thousand, three hundred and twenty cities of the Pyramid, that there was somewhere out in the desolation of the Night Lands a second Place of Refuge, where had gathered, in another part of this dead world, some last millions of the human race, to fight unto the end. And this story I heard everywhere in my travels through the cities of the Great Redoubt, which travels began when I came upon my seventeenth year, and continued for three years and two hundred and twenty-five days, being even then but one day in each city, as was the custom in the training of every child. And truly it was a great journey, and in it I met with many whom to know was to love; but whom never could I see again; for life has not space enough; and each must to his duty to the security and well-being of the Redoubt. Yet, for all that I have set down, we travelled much, always; but there were so many millions, and so few years.
And, as I have said, everywhere I went there was the same story of this other Place of Refuge; and in such of the Libraries of those cities, as I had time to search, there were great numbers of works upon the existence of this other Refuge; and some, far back in the years, made assertion with confidence that such a Place was in verity; and, indeed, no doubt did there seem in those by-gone ages; but now these very records were read out by Scholars, who doubted, even whilst they read. And so is it ever.
Now below the Great Redoubt lay the Underground Fields. And of the Underground Fields (though in that age we called them no more than “The Fields”) I should set down a little; for they were the mightiest work of this world; so that even the Last Redoubt was but a small thing beside them. An hundred miles deep lay the lowest of the Underground Fields, and was an hundred miles from side to side, every way; and above it there were three hundred and six fields, each one less in area than that beneath; and in this wise they tapered, until the topmost field which lay direct beneath the lowermost floor of the Great Redoubt, was but four miles every way. And thus it will be seen that these fields, lying one beneath the other, formed a mighty and incredible Pyramid of Country Lands in the deep earth, an hundred miles from base to the topmost field. And the whole was sheathed in at the sides with the grey metal of which the Redoubt was builded; and each field was pillared, and floored beneath the soil, with this same compound of wonder; and so was it secure, and the monsters could not dig into that mighty garden from without. And all of that Underground Land was lit, where needed, by the Earth Current, and that same life-stream fructified the soil, and gave life and blood to the plants and to the trees, and to every bush and natural thing. And the making of those fields had taken maybe a million years, and the “dump” thereof had been cast into the “Crack,” whence came the Earth Current, and which had bottom beyond all soundings.2
Now there was presently, in the Garden of Silence, which was the lowermost of all the Underground Fields, the Ending of those seventeen hundred heroes, and of the Youths that they saved and slew. And the Garden was a great country, and an hundred miles every way, and the roof thereof was three great miles above, and shaped to a vast dome; as it had been that the Builders and Makers thereof did remember in their spirits the visible sky of this our Present Age. And the making of that Garden was all set out in a single History of Seven Thousand and Seventy Volumes. And there were likewise seven thousand and seventy years spent to the making of that Country; so that there had unremembered generations lived and laboured and died, and seen not the end of their labour. And Love had shaped it and hallowed it; so that of all the wonders of the world, there had been none that shall ever come anigh to that Garden of Silence—an hundred miles every way of Silence to the Dead.
And there were in that roof seven moons set in a mighty circle, and lit by the Earth Current; and the circle was sixty miles across, so that all that Country of Quiet was visible; yet to no great glare, but a sweet holy light; so that I did always feel in my heart that a man might weep there, and be unashamed. And in the midst of that silent Country, there was a great hill, and upon the hill a vast Dome. And the Dome was full of a Light that might be seen in all that Country, which was the Garden of Silence. And beneath the Dome was the “Crack,” and within it the glory of the Earth-Current, from which all had life and light and safety. And in the Dome at the North, there was a gateway; and a narrow road went upwards to the gateway, and the Road was named The Last Road, and the Gateway was named by no name; but known to all, as The Gateway.
And there were in that mighty Country, long roadways, and hidden methods to help travel; and constant temples of rest along the miles; and groves; and the charm of water, falling. And everywhere the Statues of Memory, and the Tablets of Memory, and the whole of that Great Underground Country full of an echo of Eternity and of Memory and Love and Greatness; so that to walk alone in that Land was to grow back to the wonder and mystery of Childhood; and presently to go upwards again to the Cities of the Mighty Pyramid, purified and sweetened of soul and mind. And in my boyhood, I have wandered oft, a week of days in that Country of Silence, and had my food with me, and slept quietly amid the memories; and gone on again, wrapped about with the quiet of the Everlasting. And the man-soul within would be drawn mightily to those places where the Great Ones of the pas
t Eternity of the World had their Memory named; but there was that within me which ever drew me, in the ending, to the Hills of the Babes; those little Hills where might be heard amid the lonesomeness of an utter quiet, a strange and wondrous echo, as of a little child calling over the hills. But how this was I know not, save by the sweet cunning of some dead Maker in the forgotten years. And here, mayhaps by reason of this Voice of Pathos, were to be found the countless Tokens of Memory to all the babes of the Mighty Pyramid, through a thousand ages. And, odd whiles, would I come upon some Mother, sitting there lonely, or mayhaps companied by others. And by this little telling shall you know somewhat of the quietness and the wonder and the holiness of that great Country hallowed to all Memory and to Eternity and to our Dead.
And it was here, into the Country of Silence, that they brought down the Dead to their Burial. And there came down into the Country of Silence, maybe an Hundred Million, out of the Cities of the Pyramid, to be present, and to do Honour.
Now they that had charge of the Dead, did lay them upon the road which ran up unto The Gateway, even that same road which was named The Last Road. And the Road moved upwards slowly with the Dead; and the Dead went inward through the Gateway; first the poor Youths, and afterward they that had given up life that they might save them. And as the Dead went upwards, there was a very great Silence over all the miles of the Country of Silence. But in a little while there came from afar off, a sound as of a wind wailing; and it came onwards out of the distance, and passed over the Hills of the Babes, which were a great way off. And so came anigh to the place where I stood. Even as the blowing of a sorrowful wind did it come; and I knew that all the great multitudes did sing quietly; and the singing passed onwards, and left behind it an utter silence; even as the wind doth rustle the corn and pass onwards, and all fall to a greater-seeming quietness than before. And the Dead passed inward through The Gateway, into the great light and silence of the Dome and came out no more. And again from beyond the far Hills of the Babes there was that sound of the millions singing; and there rose up out of the earth beneath, the voices of the underground organs, and the noise of the sorrow passed over me, and went again into the distance, and left all hushed.
And lo! as there passed inward to the silence of the Dome the last of those dead Heroes, there came again the sound from beyond the Hills of the Babes; and as it came more nigh, I knew that it was the Song of Honour, loud and triumphant, and sung by countless multitudes. And the Voices of the Organs made an honour to the dead.
3And, in a while, I found the Road where the Silent Ones Walk, to bend inward at the North of the House of Silence; so that it came right horridly close unto the House; for here the hill on which the House did stand, was very abrupt and fell steeply unto the Road. And so was that Dreadful House stood up there above me in the Silence, as that it did seem to brood there upon the Land. And this side did seem truly as the other; and equal lone and dreadful.
And the House was monstrous and huge, and full of quiet lights; and it was truly as that there had been no Sound ever in that House through Eternity; but yet was it as that the heart did think each moment to see quiet and shrouded figures within, and yet never were they seen; and this I do but set down that I bring all home unto your hearts also, as that you crouched there with me in those low moss-bushes, there beside the Great Road, and did look upward unto that Monstrous House of Everlasting Silence, and did feel the utterness of silence to hang about it in the night; and to know in your spirits the quiet threat that lived silent there within.
And so shall you have mind of me, hid there among the bushes, and sodden and cold; and yet, as you will perceive, so held in my spirit by an utter terror and loathing and solemn wonder and awe of that Mighty House of Quietness loomed above me in the Night, that I wotted not of the misery of my body, because that my spirit was so in terror for the life of my Being4 that the Master-Word did beat softly about me, out of all the night of the world. And all mine heart did throb with great glowings of joy; yet was the beat of the Word unsure, so that I knew not truly whether my Spirit had indeed heard aught, for there was immediately a silence, as ever, about mine inward being. Yet, as you shall believe, there was a new hope and strength of courage in all my body and soul.
And I went forward very swift, and all renewed, as it were; and my strength and hope did make naught of any terror that should lie to bar my way, neither did I have further heed of the boulders that lay always upon my path, but did go over them with quick leapings, and a wondrous and thrilling eagerness of the heart within me.
And, sudden, in the end of the tenth hour, I perceived that the mighty walls of blackness that made the sides of the Gorge be no more there, and that I was come truly upon the end of the Gorge. And I near trembled with hope and astonishment; for when I was gone a little way on, I had ceased to go upward any more, and was come clear out from the mouth of the Gorge, and did peer forth across a mighty country of night. And it did seem to me as that I was come to a second Land of strange matters, even as the Night Land where did lie the wonder of the Mighty Pyramid. And surely, I did think within mine heart that I was come at last to that far and hidden place of the world where did be the Lesser Redoubt. But yet was there no place in all that night where did tower the shining lights of the Lesser Pyramid, the which I did hope vainly to perceive. And a new despair came upon me; for indeed, it seemed I was come all astray in the night of the World, and did nowise have any knowing whether I stood near to the Country of the Lesser Redoubt, or whether that I was gone half across the World unto a strange place.
And, then, as the despair troubled my spirit and dulled the beating of mine heart, a sudden thought did light up a fresh hope within me; for, indeed, as you do know, I was come upward of a great height, and did surely have a huge view over all that Land; and mayhaps the Lesser Pyramid did lie somewhere in a valley, if, in verity, it did be anywheres at all in that Country. And I turned me from the cliffs, and lookt backward over all the night of the Land; but there was nowhere in all that Country the shining of the Lights of the Lesser Pyramid.
And lo! of a sudden I did know that there was something in the night. And I stared, with a very keen and anxious look. And behold there was the black shape of a great pyramid afar off in the night, that did show against the shining of the distant light; for it did stand between me and the far off fires. But until I was come to that place, whence I did look, I had not stood to have it plain against the shining upon the other side of that Land. And how I did feel in that moment, I have no words to set out unto you. But surely was mine heart gracious with thankfulness, and I ready to leap with joy and hope, and all my body thrilled with an excitement that would not have me to be silent; so that, suddenly, I began to shoot foolishly across the night. But came soon to wisdom and silence, as you shall think. And I ran down into the Land, and many hours I went; and presently I sat me down to rest.
And, after that I had sat there awhile, I did mind me suddenly that I should send the Master-Word through the night; for, indeed, how else might I ever know whether Naani did yet live; though, in truth, I had little, save desperate hope, in this matter; but yet did remember how that I had seemed odd times of my journey to hear the beat of the Master-Word with my spirit, out of all the dark of the world. And, in verity, if Naani answered not, but there came instead an Evil Power to destroy me, I should but cease me of mine utter misery the more speedy.
And I stood me upon my feet, and looked outward about me into the blackness of that Land. And I sent the Master-Word with my brain-elements; and immediately I called Naani, thrice, sending the call with my brain-elements.
And lo! in a moment, as it did seem, there broke around me out of all the mystery of night, low and solemn, the Master-Word, beating in the night. And immediately there did sound within my brain a far, small voice, very lone and faint, as that it had come from the end of the world. And the voice was the voice of Naani and the voice of Mirdath, and did call me by mine olden love-name.
Then, inde
ed, I did near to choke with the utter affright of joy that did take me in the heart, and also I was shaken with a mighty excitement, and my despair was gone, as that I had never known it. For, in verity, Naani did live and did call unto me with her brain-elements; and surely I had not heard the voice of mine Own for an utter age of grim labour and dread.
And the voice was, as I did say, as that it came from one that did be in a far place of the earth. And, in verity, whilst I stood dazed with a great joy that the Maid did live, I knew within me, concerning the fear that she was utter far off; and what peril might come anigh to her, before that I should stand to her side, to do battle for her life and well-being and mine own joy.
And lo! in the same moment, and before that I made further speech unto Naani, I did wot that some one did be a little way off from me, in the bushes, where a fire hole did burn anigh to me; and it was as that my spirit knew this thing, and told of it unto my brain. And I made no answer unto the Maid, across all the dark of the world; but went very swift into a great bush that was nigh to the fire-hole, upon this side. And I lookt through, into the open space that did be about the fire-hole. And there was a little figure that did kneel, sobbing, upon the earth, beside the fire-hole; and truly it was a slim maid, and she did seem as that she harked very desperate, even whilst yet she did sob. And surely, mine own soul did Know, all in one white moment of life. And she there, unknowing, and harking unto a cry of the spirit, that she did think to come through all the desolation of the night—even from the Mighty Pyramid. For oft, as I did perceive, had she cried unto me in all that lonesome month, and known no answer; neither that I was making a desperate way unto her; for, indeed, her weakness was great, so that she had no power to throw the Word strongly afar, neither to make plain her spiritual cryings through any mighty space of the aether.
The Dream of X and Other Fantastic Visions Page 44