The A. Merritt Megapack

by Abraham Merritt

“If Sri escaped, let him come with the embassy. Better still—let him come before them. Send word through the drums that he may come as soon as he can. He has my safe-conduct, and shall stay with Evalie until all is settled.”

  They chattered over that, assented. The Witch-woman made no comment. For the first time I saw Evalie’s eyes soften as she looked at me.

  When the pygmies were gone, Lur walked to the door, and beckoned. Ouarda entered.

  “Ouarda!”

  I liked Ouarda. It was good to know she was alive. I went to her with outstretched hands. She took them.

  “It was two of the soldiers, Lord. They had sisters in Sirk. They cut the ladder before we could stop them. They were slain,” she said.

  Would to God they had cut it before any could, have followed me!

  Before I could speak, one of my captains knocked and entered.

  “It is long after dusk and the gates are closed, Lord. All those who would come are behind them.”

  “Were there many, soldier?”

  “No, Lord—not more than a hundred or so. The others refused.”

  “And did they say why they refused?”

  “Is the question an order, Lord?”

  “It is an order.”

  “They said they were safer where they were. That the Rrrllya had no quarrel with them, who were but meat for Khalk’ru.”

  “Enough, soldier!” The Witch-woman’s voice was harsh. “Go! Take the Rrrllya with you.”

  The captain saluted, turned smartly and was gone with the dwarfs. I laughed.

  “Soldiers cut our ladder for sympathy of those who fled Khalk’ru. The people fear the enemies of Khalk’ru less than they do their own kind who are his butchers! We do well to make peace with the Rrrllya, Lur.”

  I watched her face pale, then redden and saw the knuckles of her hands whiten as she clenched them. She smiled, poured herself wine, lifted it with a steady hand.

  “I drink to your wisdom—Dwayanu!”

  A strong soul—the Witch-woman’s! A warrior’s heart. Somewhat lacking in feminine softness, it was true. But it was no wonder that Dwayanu had loved her—in his way and as much as he could love a woman.

  A silence dropped upon the chamber, intensified in some odd fashion by the steady beating of the drums. How long we sat in that silence I do not know. But suddenly the beat of the drums became fainter.

  And then all at once the drums ceased entirely. The quiet brought a sense of unreality. I could feel the tense nerves loosening like springs long held taut. The abrupt silence made ears ache, slowed heart-beat.

  “They have the message. They have accepted it,” Evalie spoke.

  The Witch-woman arose.

  “You keep the girl beside you to-night, Dwayanu?”

  “She sleeps in one of these rooms, Lur. She will be under guard. No one can reach her without passing through my room here,” I looked at her, significantly. “And I sleep lightly. You need have no fear of her escape.”

  “I am glad the drums will not disturb your sleep—Dwayanu.”

  She gave me a mocking salute, and, with Ouarda, left me.

  And suddenly the weariness dropped upon me again. I turned to Evalie, watching me with eyes in which I thought doubt of her own deep doubt had crept. Certainly there was no scorn, nor loathing in them. Well, now I had her where all this manoeuvring had been meant to bring her. Alone with me. And looking at her I felt that in the face of all she had seen of me, all she had undergone because of me—words were useless things. Nor could I muster them as I wanted. No, there would be plenty of time… in the morning, perhaps, when I had slept… or after I had done what I had to do…then she must believe…

  “Sleep, Evalie. Sleep without fear…and believe that all that has been wrong is now becoming right. Go with Dara. You shall be well guarded. None can come to you except through this room, and here I will be. Sleep and fear nothing.”

  I called Dara, gave her instructions, and Evalie went with her. At the curtains masking the entrance to the next room she hesitated, half turned as though to speak, but did not. And not long after Dara returned. She said:

  “She is already asleep, Dwayanu.”

  “As you should be, friend,” I told her. “And all those others who stood by me this day. I think there is nothing to fear to-night. Select those whom you can trust and have them guard the corridor and my door. Where have you put her?”

  “In the chamber next this, Lord.”

  “It would be better if you and the others slept here, Dara. There are half a dozen rooms for you. Have wine and food brought for you—plenty of it.”

  She laughed.

  “Do you expect a siege, Dwayanu?”

  “One never knows.”

  “You do not greatly trust Lur, Lord?”

  “I trust her not at all, Dara.”

  She nodded, turned to go. Upon the impulse I said:

  “Dara, would it make you sleep better to-night and those with you, and would it help you in picking your guard if I told you this: there will be no more sacrifices to Khalk’ru while I live?”

  She started; her face lightened, softened. She thrust out her hand to me:

  “Dwayanu—I had a sister who was given to Khalk’ru. Do you mean this?”

  “By the life of my blood! By all the living gods! I mean it!”

  “Sleep well, Lord!” Her voice was choked. She walked away, through the curtain, but not before I had seen the tears on her cheeks.

  Well, a woman had a right to weep—even if she was a soldier. I myself had wept to-day.

  I poured myself wine, sat thinking as I drank. Mainly my thoughts revolved around the enigma of Khalk’ru. And there was a good reason for that.

  What was Khalk’ru?

  I slipped the chain from round my neck, opened the locket and studied the ring. I closed it, and threw it on the table. Somehow I felt that it was better there than over my heart while I was doing this thinking.

  Dwayanu had had his doubts about that dread Thing being any Spirit of the Void, and I, who now was Leif Langdon and a passive Dwayanu, had no doubts whatever that it was not. Yet I could not accept Barr’s theory of mass hypnotism—and trickery was out of the question.

  Whatever Khalk’ru might be, Khalk’ru—as the Witch-woman had said—was. Or at least that Shape which became material through ritual, ring and screen—was.

  I thought that I might have put the experience in the temple of the oasis down as hallucination if it had not been repeated here in the Shadowed-land. But there could be no possible doubt about the reality of the sacrifice I had conducted; no possible doubt as to the destruction—absorption—dissolvement—of the twelve girls. And none of Yodin’s complete belief in the power of the tentacle to remove me, and none of his complete effacement. And I thought that if the sacrifices and Yodin were standing in the wings laughing at me, as Barr had put it—then it was in the wings of a theatre in some other world than this. And there was the deep horror of the Little People, the horror of so many of the Ayjir—and there was the revolt in ancient Ayjirland born of this same horror, which had destroyed Ayjirland by civil war.

  No, whatever the Thing was, no matter how repugnant to science its recognition as a reality might be—still it was Atavism, superstition—call it what Barr would—I knew the Thing was real! Not of this earth—no, most certainly not of this earth. Not even supernatural. Or rather, supernatural only insofar as it might come from another dimension or even another world which our five senses could not encompass.

  And I reflected, now, that science and religion are really blood brothers, which is largely why they hate each other so, that scientists and religionists are quite alike in their dogmatism, their intolerance, and that every bitter battle of religion over some interpretation of creed or cult has its parallel in battles of science over a bone or rock.

  Yet just as there are men in the churches whose minds have not become religiously fossilized, so there are men in the laboratories whose minds have not become scie
ntifically fossilized…Einstein, who dared challenge all conceptions of space and time with his four dimensional space in which time itself was a dimension, and who followed that with proof of five dimensional space instead of the four which are all our senses can apprehend, and which apprehends one of them wrongly…the possibility of a dozen worlds spinning interlocked with this one…in the same space…the energy which we call matter of each of them keyed to the different vibration, and each utterly unaware of the other…and utterly overturning the old axiom that two bodies cannot occupy the same place at the same time.

  And I thought—what if far and far back in time, a scientist of that day, one of the Ayjir people, had discovered all that! Had discovered the fifth dimension beyond length, breadth, thickness and time. Or had discovered one of those interlocking worlds whose matter streams through the interstices of the matter of ours. And discovering dimension or world, had found the way to make dwellers in that dimension or that other world both aware of and manifest to those of this. By sound and gesture, by ring and screen, had made a gateway through which such dwellers could come—or at least, appear! And then what a weapon this discoverer had—what a weapon the inevitable priests of that Thing would have! And did have ages gone, just as they had here in Karak.

  If so, was it one dweller or many who lurked in those gateways for its drink of life? The memories bequeathed me by Dwayanu told me there had been other temples in Ayjirland besides that one of the oasis. Was it the same Being that appeared in each? Was the Shape that came from the shattered stone of the oasis the same that had fed in the temple of the mirage? Or were there many of them—dwellers in other dimension or other world—avidly answering the summons? Nor was it necessarily true that in their own place these Things had the form of the Kraken. That might be the shape, through purely natural laws, which entrance into this world forced upon them.

  I thought over that for quite awhile. It seemed to me the best explanation of Khalk’ru. And if it was, then the way to be rid of Khalk’ru was to destroy his means of entrance. And that, I reflected, was precisely how the ancient Ayjirs had argued.

  But it did not explain why only those of the old blood could summon—

  I heard a low voice at the door. I walked softly over to it, listened. I opened the door and there was Lur, talking to the guards.

  “What is it you are seeking, Lur?”

  “To speak with you. I will keep you only a little time, Dwayanu.”

  I studied the Witch-woman. She stood, very quietly, in her eyes nothing of defiance nor resentment nor subtle calculation—only appeal. Her red braids fell over her white shoulders; she was without weapon or ornament. She looked younger than ever I had seen her, and somewhat forlorn. I felt no desire to mock her nor to deny her. I felt instead the stirrings of a deep pity.

  “Enter, Lur—and say all that is in your mind.”

  I closed the door behind her. She walked over to the window, looked out into the dim greenly glimmering night. I went to her.

  “Speak softly, Lur. The girl is asleep there in the next chamber. Let her rest.”

  She said, tonelessly:

  “I wish you had never come here, Yellow-hair.” I thought of Jim, and I answered:

  “I wish that too, Witch-woman. But here I am.” She leaned towards me, put her hand over my heart. “Why do you hate me so greatly?”

  “I do not hate you, Lur. I have no hate left in me—except for one thing.”

  “And that—?”

  Involuntarily I looked at the table. One candle shone there and its light fell on the locket that held the ring. Her glance followed mine. She said:

  “What do you mean to do? Throw Karak open to the dwarfs? Mend Nansur? Rule here over Karak and the Rrrllya with their dark girl at your side? Is it that…and if it is that—what is to become of Lur? Answer me. I have the right to know. There is a bond between us…I loved you when you were Dwayanu…you know how well…”

  “And would have killed me while I was still Dwayanu,” I said, sombrely.

  “Because I saw Dwayanu dying as you looked into the eyes of the stranger,” she answered. “You whom Dwayanu had mastered was killing Dwayanu. I loved Dwayanu. Why should I not avenge him?”

  “If you believe I am no longer Dwayanu, then I am the man whose friend you trapped and murdered—the man whose love you trapped and would have destroyed. And if that be so—what claim have you upon me, Lur?”

  She did not answer for moments; then she said:

  “I have some justice on my side. I tell you I loved Dwayanu. Something I knew of your case from the first, Yellow-hair. But I saw Dwayanu awaken within you. And I knew it was truly he! I knew, too, that as long as that friend of yours and the dark girl lived there was danger for Dwayanu. That was why I plotted to bring them into Sirk. I threw the dice upon the chance of killing them before you had seen them. Then, I thought, all would be well. There would be none left to rouse that in you which Dwayanu had mastered. I lost. I knew I had lost when by whim of Luka she threw you three together. And rage and sorrow caught me—and I did…what I did.”

  “Lur,” I said, “answer me truly. That day you returned to the Lake of the Ghosts after pursuit of the two women—were they not your spies who bore that lying message into Sirk? And did you not wait until you learned my friend and Evalie were in the trap before you gave me word to march? And was it not in your thought that you would then—if I opened the way into Sirk—rid yourself not only of those two but of Dwayanu? For remember—you may have loved Dwayanu, but as he told you, you loved power better than he. And Dwayanu threatened your power. Answer me truly.”

  For the second time I saw tears in the eyes of the Witch-woman. She said, brokenly:

  “I sent the spies, yes. I waited until the two were in the trap. But I never meant harm to Dwayanu!”

  I did not believe her. But still I felt no anger, no hate. The pity grew.

  “Lur, now I will tell you truth. It is not in my mind to rule with Evalie over Karak and the Rrrllya. I have no more desire for power. That went with Dwayanu. In the peace I make with the dwarfs, you shall rule over Karak—if that be your desire. The dark girl shall go back with them. She will not desire to remain in Karak. Nor do I…”

  “You cannot go with her,” she interrupted me. “Never would the yellow dogs trust you. Their arrows would be ever pointed at you.”

  I nodded—that thought had occurred to me long before.

  “All that must adjust itself,” I said. “But there shall be no more sacrifices. The gate of Khalk’ru shall be closed against him for ever. And I will close it.”

  Her eyes dilated.

  “You mean—”

  “I mean that I will shut Khalk’ru for ever from Karak—unless Khalk’ru proves stronger than I.”

  She wrung her hands, helplessly.

  “What use rule over Karak to me then…how could I hold the people?”

  “Nevertheless—I will destroy the gate of Khalk’ru.”

  She whispered:

  “Gods—if I had Yodin’s ring…”

  I smiled at that.

  “Witch-woman, you know as well as I that Khalk’ru comes to no woman’s call.”

  The witch-lights flickered in her eyes; a flash of green shone through them.

  “There is an ancient prophecy, Yellow-hair, that Dwayanu did not know—or had forgotten. It says that when Khalk’ru comes to a woman’s call, he—stays! That was the reason no woman in ancient Ayjilrand might be priestess at the sacrifice.”

  I laughed at that.

  “A fine pet, Lur—to add to your wolves.”

  She walked toward the door, paused.

  “What if I could love you—as I loved Dwayanu? Could make you love me as Dwayanu loved me? And more! Send the dark girl to join her people and take the ban of death from them on this side of Nanbu. Would you let things be as they are—rule with me over Karak?”

  I opened the door for her.

  “I told you I no longer care for power, Lur.�
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  She walked away.

  I went back to the window, drew a chair to it, and sat thinking. Suddenly from somewhere close to the citadel I heard a wolf cry. Thrice it howled, then thrice again.

  “Leif!”

  I jumped to my feet. Evalie was beside me. She peered at me through the veils of her hair; her clear eyes shone upon me—no longer doubting, hating, fearing. They were as they were of old.

  “Evalie!”

  My arms went round her; my lips found hers.

  “I listened, Leif!”

  “You believe, Evalie!”

  She kissed me, held me tight.

  “But she was right—Leif. You could not go with me again into the land of the Little People. Never, never would they understand. And I would not dwell in Karak.”

  “Will you go with me, Evalie—to my own land? After I have done what I must do…and if I am not destroyed in its doing?”

  “I will go with you, Leif!”

  And she wept awhile, and after another while she fell asleep in my arms. And I lifted her, and carried her into her chamber and covered her with the sleep silks. Nor did she awaken.

  I returned to my own room. As I passed the table I picked up the locket, started to put it round my neck. I threw it back. Never would I wear that chain again, I dropped upon the bed, sword at hand. I slept.

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  IN KHALK’RU’S TEMPLE

  Twice I awakened. The first time it was the howling of the wolves that aroused me. It was as though they were beneath my window. I listened drowsily, and sank back to sleep.

  The second time I came wide awake from a troubled dream. Some sound in the chamber had roused me, of that I was sure. My hand dropped to my sword lying on the floor beside my bed. I had the feeling that there was someone in the room. I could see nothing in the green darkness that filled the chamber. I called, softly:

  “Evalie! Is that you?”

  There was no answer, no sound.

  I sat up in the bed, even thrust a leg out to rise. And then I remembered the guards at my door, and Dara and her soldiers beyond, and I told myself that it had been only my troubled dream that had awakened me. Yet for a time I lay awake listening, sword in hand. And then the silence lulled me back to sleep.