The Golden Age of Weird Fiction MEGAPACK™, Vol. 4: Nictzin Dyalhis

by Nictzin Dyalhis

  Her eyes opened. Hastily yet gracefully she rose to her feet, her perfect form reflecting shimmeringly through her sheer draperies the lights of the Shrine. Crossing her hands on her breast, she bent her head in acknowledgment of my rank and status; then raised her eyes to mine, half timid and half bold.

  “Fortunate me!” she murmured. “It is but seldom that you come alone to the empty shrine. Never before has it been my lot to be here on such an occasion. I have seen you when the full chapter was convened—”

  “Nor did I come here now to be with you,” I reproved quietly. “Keep your allurements for those of lesser status. You know your task—perform that!”

  I stretched myself full length on the stone slab, lying on my back with my hands crossed on my breast in the position of a corpse. The “Dove”, rebuked, flitted about her task; lighted the burners of incense, and commenced singing softly the “Dream Chant”. And I knew, although my eyes, fixed upon the ceiling above me, could not see her, that she was weaving about me with twinkling, gliding feet and waving hands, the Dance of Sleep.

  I do not mean the ordinary sleep of the material world—but the mystic Temple-sleep wherein the bodily faculties are all in abeyance and the self is free—free to go, but, perchance, never to return—free to reach to whatever plane it merits, be that plane one of the many hells of the universe, or—to the very Presence itself.

  Softly, sweetly, the voice of the singer came to my ears, and, highly attuned as I was, I could sense in every nerve-fiber the vibrations which were fast filling the place; due to the mystic geometrical patterns and figures formed in the ether by her words, her tones, and her motions.

  To me came the sensations one would experience were that one reclining full length in a boat on a gently heaving sea. It was a slow, easy, inexpressibly soothing lift and sway and rise and fall. I was drifting, half-conscious. The light of the shrine, even through my closed lids, became softer than moonshine yet surpassing vivid sunlight… an even greater rise and fall… a lift, with no after-feeling of sinking back—and I was free!

  If an arrow from a powerful bow has sensation, it must feel as I felt in that moment. I was shooting through space—at first the ordinary atmosphere of this gray old earth which the ancients very truly styled Myalba, the “Abode of Trouble.”

  Thence I passed out into interplanetary space; through the blue-blackness of night wherein stars, planets and suns shone as bright spots of different colored lights, yet gave forth no illumination.

  On and on I sped until a vague fear assailed me and several very definite questions took form within my consciousness—for I had not counted on any such extended trip as this!

  “Whither was I bound? What lay before me? Should I ever return to earth, my home-planet? Or had the merit I had acquired during life been of such evil nature that I was to be expelled out of the known universe into some unknown and probably very dreadful realm outside all finite concept?”

  I tried to check my progress, but to no avail. I tried to slow down my speed at least. Utterly futile! In fact, the effort seemed to accelerate it.

  I noted, as I shot past it, a constellation to my left very near, and my astronomical knowledge informed me that it was one of the remotest in our solar system. And at that, the fear became anything but vague; for I became certain that ahead of me lay the Unknown—and what effect would that have upon me?

  I thought of the Temple; of my brethren in the Occult Order; I thought of the couch whereon lay my earth-body. I thought of the Black Shrine; of the cubical stone altar; and finally I bethought me of that awful, beautiful and terrible, supernal goddess to whom that shrine was dedicated, to whom that altar had been raised, and who—if the whispered word spake truth—sometimes descended and rested thereon for a few moments; manifest as a tongue of flame of dazzling silvery brilliancy.

  Would she let one of her followers come to grief—to an eternal woe? True, I knew that great though she was, she still was subordinate to the Presence Itself—although she was one of Its ministers—and might not be able to aid, despite her known powers.

  I knew that to utter her secret name unworthily meant death on earth and punishment thereafter. But it seemed to me that never again could my need be so desperate—and I pronounced (not vocally, for my body was lacking, but shall I say “telepathically”?) her awful word.

  Nothing happened! Yet, everything happened. I still continued that awful flight through space; but all fear left me. I was serenely conscious that all was well; that for all she had in nowise made herself manifest, I was under her direct protection. I felt certain that in some way as yet uncomprehended, my entire recent actions had been inspired by her will.

  And once that certitude became fixed in my consciousness, I surrendered myself completely to that now delightful sensation of terrific momentum.

  * * * *

  Eventually, far ahead of me I saw a faint, nebulous glow. Somehow I became convinced that it was my destination. And even as before I had experienced a vague, unnamable fear; so now I felt a very definite desire to reach that slowly increasing brightness. For I was fully convinced that there I should find and know the hitherto unknowable.

  Brighter and yet more bright it shone, and I realized that it was neither planet, star nor sun; and for a little space I was lost in speculation as to what it could actually be.

  The color changed, as I drew nearer, changed from an indeterminate tinge to a wondrous ruby red—inexpressibly soul-comforting, if I may use such a word. But, as I drew still closer, it shifted to a tender azure blue. No! It was clear topaz! Why, it was emerald—violet—orange—cerise—it had no color—it was of all colors—it was color! Color well-nigh celestial; and over me crept a strange reverence and awe.

  I was in the luminescence itself. It did not burn, nor even warm, but oh, how it did invigorate! There was something spiritually magnetic about it, and I reveled in the radiance.

  That wondrous effulgence streamed and scintillated from tower and temple and buildings. It sparkled and shimmered in the very “air” itself. It shone and gleamed from the streets and the ground.

  Oh! I know that I am using the phraseology of Earth. Yet, if I do not, how may I make my meaning plain to dwellers of Earth? So if I say “air,” “ground,” and other familiar words; find for me in your minds pardon and allowance, and eke out with your imaginations my poor descriptive attempts.

  But to return to my narration. I was in a city of some sort. That was certain. But where? And why? How, I already knew.

  Constantly I am confronted by the impossible, for how shall I describe the beings I saw? They were formed even as we of earth are shaped; but far more radiant, brilliant, seeming to glow with an internal light which shone through what looked to be translucent flesh that was not flesh. Yet of raiment, they wore none. But their chief glory lay not in beauty of forms and color; although no two shone with quite the same tints of light. Rather, their beauty lay in their faces and their eyes.

  Had I reached to the great Central Heaven? I wondered. But even as I thought it, I received from all those shining beings a reply in a very definite yet calm negative.

  As I say, it was a city, but not on any planet. Of that I felt assured. There was nothing to give the impression of planetary solidity—no gravitational pull, for example.

  And these bright beings, although appearing to walk the streets, in truth, did but touch the surfaces of the walks and ways, nor did they move their feet as do we of earth, but rather glided along.

  I noted that I, shooting high above their heads in contact with nothing, appeared conspicuous; so I deliberately willed myself to descend and progress as did they—and found to my delight that I could do so. Yet, here and there, as I passed, I caught the thought flashing from one to another: “An earth-mortal whom She has summoned!”

  I found myself before a vast building which shone with the combined light of all the lights, colored by the blending, or rather, the intermingling, of all the colors. And I knew that here was my
actual destination.

  I entered, and those whom I met, one and all, gave me salutation. It was but a gravely courteous bend of the head; yet it conveyed in some subtle manner a greater cordiality than any welcome I had ever known on earth.

  Direct as if I had been long accustomed to tread that way, I went straight to a central sheen of light and passed within its effulgence.

  “Welcome, my servitor from Earth!”

  The voice was that of all music. For one brief second I stared—and oh! here again, description baffles me!

  It was a throne of ebony blackness, and seated thereon was that goddess to whom our Order upon Earth gives reverence. Had she stood, she had towered some thirty feet or more in height. Her form (for she like all others in that abode of light) was devoid of apparel, was of transcendent splendor. Yet there was about her majesty no suggestion of the nude—not even in the sense in which we speak of it in art and sculpture.

  She was seated, and I came scarcely to her knee; yet I had already noted that my stature was half again that which it appears while inhabiting the house of clay.

  But it was not her beauty of form or of face that stamped her with that awful yet gentle majesty. For she seemed formed of translucent silver light, rather than glowing super-flesh; and it was spirit, and spirit alone, that invested her with that supernal grandeur.

  In deepest awe I knelt there on that night-black dais, before that shining silver foot above which I dared not raise my eyes.

  “Nay,” murmured that thrilling strain of music that, for want of a better word, I must call her “voice.” “Kneel not, but rise and give attention. I have called you to my throne, for I have need of you!”

  Did I hear aright? Could such as She, one of the Celestials, one of that shining host who serve the Presence, have need of me, an Earthman? It seemed absolute madness to think it. Yet she herself had just said it. In sincere humility I waited; rising and gazing straight into that glorious countenance, so calm, serene, so awe-inspiring.

  “Will it please thee to make thy meaning clear?” I asked boldly. “My wits are but those of the dull Earth—I do not understand.”

  She smiled, and all the countless throng of those who stood to either side and back of the throne smiled likewise, much as drops of dew, sparkling, give back the sun-rays which touch them.

  “I mean just this,” she replied. “I have an enemy whom I may not reach; with whom as yet I cannot cope! Always has the balance of power between us been equal; although between us twain has always been war. Yet it has been—thou knowest what I am?” she broke off to query.

  “Thou art Love itself—its Prototype,” I responded as directly as she had asked. She nodded, well pleased, but amplified for my benefit the statement I had just made.

  “Aye,” she answered, “I am Love. But not alone am I that as it is understood upon thy world. For I am Love’s Self. I am the love a man holds for a maid; the love the maid gives to the man of her heart’s choice; yet I am the love the mother bears for her babe; the tigress for its young; the serpent for its little snakes. I am even the love the miser knows for his treasure; that the warrior holds for strife; that the worshiper feels for his divinity—I am, as thou hast said, ‘Love’s Prototype’. Yet as abstract love touches each nature, that nature transmutes it into terms of its own desires—now hast thou begun to comprehend?”

  “Very dimly,” I replied, for my thought was racing, amplifying even beyond her revealing words, and I was amazed, at the extent and ramifications of what I comprehended. For that love, carried to its extreme scope, includes desire for wisdom, and all that distinguishes man from beast—angel from demon!

  “So,” she approved; “I believe thou hast in truth grasped some faint idea as to my Self—ah, well! let that pass for the present, Yet, on every planet, on each world, in all the illimitable, immeasurable regions of space, wheresoever in all the universe the conscious egos have abode, there am I to be found in one ideal or another.

  “So, too, this enemy of whom but now I spoke! He is Lord of Hate, even as I am Lady of Love. And even to him my power penetrates; for—strange words to go together!—he loves to hate! For it is in this wise that his nature transmutes! And so too, it is with me—for I, despite my nature, am touched by that power flowing from him; and my nature transmutes it all to hate of Hate’s source.

  “Learn, then, that these be natural laws! Nor can mere ‘will’, not even that of us Celestials, alter these, no matter how greatly we may desire to do so.

  “And so, throughout all the universe the balance swings; the old, old patient contest of Love against Hate—the frenzied, virulent enmity of Hate against Love. But thus far, knowing what we know, there has been no overt strife. It has been rather a quiet, silent struggle ever working in the conscious coils of the egos inhabiting the various planes.

  “But now I have sure tidings that he meditates actual aggression—his hate having overruled his judgment! Not here, against my city of love alone, does he plot, but everywhere that my influence reaches! And oh! but he is served by such fiends, such demons, such things of absolute, concrete malignancy, that I sicken at thought of what must befall the universe if he actually takes the field of war!

  “And that he so intends, I know for sure, but what his plans may be, I know not; for I am not omniscient. That is the attribute of the Presence Itself, and not that of us who do but serve.

  “So, I have picked thee out and drawn thee to me. I need a spy! None of these who servo me can approach him; for if they did, terrible indeed would be their sufferings. For they carry about them always the vibrations of love; and even in the realms of hate, still would their presences be recognized.

  “But thou art of Earth—as capable of hate as of love; and he, the Terrible, is served and followed and even adored by egos from all the worlds. An Earthman more or less would scarce be noted among his subject throngs. Now, dost thou realize my need of thee?”

  I understood! And knew, as only the Self can know, the wild, thrilling allure of anticipated adventure! Say as they will; Mars may or may not be the planet of war; Jupiter may or may not preside over the plane of judicial intellect; and Mercury may or may not rule the selves of mechanics and inventors and those of excitable, volatile natures—but this is certain: Earth, that gray old planet that shines with the strange green radiance in the night skies, is unquestionably the abode of the true adventurers.

  No other planet in the universe is inhabited by so bold, daring, and hardy a race of egos. To them, space is merely a little-understood ocean; to be charted, mapped, traveled if possible in safety, but traveled anyway. Why, that courageous creature, “Man,” has even the temerity to attempt to measure the measureless; to find, if possible, the limits of the illimitable!

  Nay, let him but once dream its possibility, and he will devise methods of transportation and storm the walls of the Highest Heaven! And this he will do in no spirit of blasphemy, but simply from the sheer love of achieving the hitherto unaccomplished—the joy of the adventure itself! For thus is “Man” constituted!

  And because he is thus, he has the right to style himself the “Apex of Creation.” It is not arrogance, but simple truth. On all the other planets, in all the other realms of space, the dwellers are either content to obey the “Law” or to exist in sulky rebellion against it. But Man, the investigator, confronted with “laws”, rests never content until he has explored their workings, fully comprehended them and recorded his observations for the benefit of others to be born in the years to come. And then, if in any way it may be achieved, he harnesses their energies and bends them to his will, and makes them do his work!

  Knowing this, and proud of my heritage, I raised my head and smiled full into those glowing pools of light—her eyes.

  “Great honor is mine,” I replied; “that to me, of all Earthmen, has been given this mission. Let me go, O Shining One! I may fail or I may succeed—but this I promise: you shall have no shame from your messenger, nor regret because of your choice.”<
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  “There spake the true Earthman,” she smiled. “Proud, confident, arrogant! Yet I would not have thee otherwise. I am well pleased with my choice. Go!”

  I had no time in which to ask questions, receive directions, or even think. I was gone! To all intents and purposes, the glowing city of light, the shining inhabitants, the goddess herself, might as well never have existed! For I was once again hurtling through space at a hundred times my previous rate of speed.

  * * * *

  I may have passed some few swarms of planets or suns or asteroids. But if I did I never knew it. True, several times I was aware of a flicker of light, but so transitory that each time it might mean anything or nothing.

  Once more the blackness lessened, glowing faintly with a lurid, angry, deep crimson light shot through by streaks of sullen black and jagged lines of glaring, venomous scarlet. I had touched the borders of the regions of Hate! I knew it, felt it; through every atom of my disembodied body I could sense that terrific emotional vibration.

  It may be a matter of wonderment to some, that I had found my way so accurately through the uncharted and unknown voids of space; but a moment’s reflection will clear this up.

  A freed ego, released into space, is inevitably attracted by the “Law of Affinity” to whatsoever plane it is in greatest sympathy with. So it will be noted, that I, by the time the Silver One had made clear to me her requirements and fears, so thoroughly hated the cause of her apprehensions that there remained to me in all space no other destination possible.

  Too abruptly for immediate realization, I found myself standing on what felt like solid ground. And, furthermore, I felt myself re-embodied. For a long minute my shocked mind refused to grasp the stupendous fact. But then, applying all my long scientific training to the solution of the problem, I came to a full realization of what had happened to me.

  Hate is one of the lowest of the emotions. And the lower phases are invariably denser than are the higher ones. So, where hate has surcharged the ether, density is a natural outcome.