Voyage to Arcturus

by David Lindsay

  The steering was effected by means of a shutter attached by a cord to the top of the staff, which could be so manipulated that any segment of the male stone's rays, or all the rays, or none at all, could be shut off at will. No sooner was the staff raised than the aerial vessel quietly detached itself from the rock to which it had been drawn, and passed slowly forward in the direction of the mountains. Branchspell sank below the horizon. The gathering mist blotted out everything outside a radius of a few miles. The air grew cool and fresh.

  Soon the rock masses ceased on the great, rising plain. Haunte withdrew the shutter entirely, and the boat gathered full speed.

  "You say that navigation among the mountains is difficult at night,"

  exclaimed Maskull. "I would have thought it impossible."

  Haunte grunted. "You will have to take risks, and think yourself fortunate if you come off with nothing worse than a cracked skull. But one thing I can tell you - if you go on disturbing me with your chitchat we shan't get as far as the mountains."

  Thereafter Maskull was silent.

  The twilight deepened; the murk grew denser. There was little to look at, but much to feel. The motion of the boat, which was due to the never-ending struggle between the male stones and the force of gravitation, resembled in an exaggerated fashion the violent tossing of a small craft on a choppy sea. The two passengers became unhappy. Haunte, from his seat in the stern, gazed at them sardonically with one eye. The darkness now came on rapidly.

  About ninety minutes after the commencement of the voyage they arrived at the foothills of Lichstorm. They began to mount. There was no daylight left to see by. Beneath them, however, on both sides of them and in the rear, the landscape was lighted up for a considerable distance by the now vivid blue rays of the twin male stones. Ahead, where these rays did not shine, Haunte was guided by the self-luminous nature of the rocks, grass, and trees. These were faintly phosphorescent; the vegetation shone out more strongly than the soil.

  The moon was not shining and there were no stars; Maskull therefore inferred that the upper atmosphere was dense with mist. Once or twice, from his sensations of choking, he thought that they were entering a fogbank, but it was a strange kind of fog, for it had the effect of doubling the intensity of every light in front of them. Whenever this happened, nightmare feelings attacked him; he experienced transitory, unreasoning fright and horror.

  Now they passed high above the valley that separated the foothills from the mountains themselves. The boat began an ascent of many thousands of feet and, as the cliffs were near, Haunte had to manoeuvre carefully with the rear light in order to keep clear of them. Maskull watched the delicacy of his movements, not without admiration. A long time went by. It grew much colder; the air was damp and drafty. The fog began to deposit something like snow on their persons. Maskull kept sweating with terror, not because of the danger they were in, but because of the cloud banks that continued to envelop them.

  They cleared the first line of precipices. Still mounting, but this time with a forward motion, as could be seen by the vapours illuminated by the male stones through which they passed, they were soon altogether out of sight of solid ground. Suddenly and quite unexpectedly the moon broke through. In the upper atmosphere thick masses of fog were seen crawling hither and thither, broken in many places by thin rifts of sky, through one of which Teargeld was shining. Below them, to their left, a gigantic peak, glittering with green ice, showed itself for a few seconds, and was then swallowed up again. All the rest of the world was hidden by the mist. The moon went in again. Maskull had seen quite enough to make him long for the aerial voyage to end.

  The light from the male stones presently illuminated the face of a new cliff. It was grand, rugged, and perpendicular. Upward, downward, and on both sides, it faded imperceptibly into the night. After coasting it a little way, they observed a shelf of rock jutting out. It was square, measuring about a dozen feet each way. Green snow covered it to a depth of some inches. Immediately behind it was a dark slit in the rock, which promised to be the mouth of a cave.

  Haunte skilfully landed the boat on this platform. Standing up, he raised the staff bearing the keel light and lowered the other; then removed both male stones, which he continued to hold in his hand. His face was thrown into strong relief by the vivid, sparkling blue-white rays. It looked rather surly.

  "Do we get out?" inquired Maskull.

  "Yes. I live here."

  "Thanks for the successful end of a dangerous journey."

  "Yes, it has been touch-and-go."

  Corpang jumped onto the platform. He was smiling coarsely. "There has been no danger, for our destinies lie elsewhere. You are merely a ferryman, Haunte."

  "Is that so?" returned Haunte, with a most unpleasant laugh. "I thought I was carrying men, not gods."

  "Where are we?" asked Maskull. As he spoke, he got out, but Haunte remained standing a minute in the boat.

  "This is Sarclash - the second highest mountain in the land."

  "Which is the highest, then?"

  "Adage. Between Sarclash and Adage there is a long ridge - very difficult in places. About halfway along the ridge, at the lowest point, lies the top of the Mornstab Pass, which goes through to Barey. Now you know the lay of the land."

  "Does the woman Sullenbode live near here?"

  "Near enough." Haunte grinned.

  He leaped out of the boat and, pushing past the others without ceremony, walked straight into the cave.

  Maskull followed, with Corpang at his heels. A few stone steps led to a doorway, curtained by the skin of some large beast. Their host pushed his way in, never offering to hold the skin aside for them. Maskull made no comment, but grabbed it with his fist and tugged it away from its fastenings to the ground. Haunte looked at the skin, and then stared hard at Maskull with his disagreeable smile, but neither said anything.

  The place in which they found themselves was a large oblong cavern, with walls, floor, and ceiling of natural rock. There were two doorways: that by which they had entered, and another of smaller size directly opposite. The cave was cold and cheerless; a damp draft passed from door to door. Many skins of wild animals lay scattered on the ground. A number of lumps of sun-dried flesh were hanging on a string along the wall, and a few bulging liquor skins reposed in a corner. There were tusks, horns, and bones everywhere. Resting against the wall were two short hunting spears, having beautiful crystal heads.

  Haunte set down the two male stones on the ground, near the farther door; their light illuminated the whole cave. He then walked over to the meat and, snatching a large piece, began to gnaw it ravenously.

  "Are we invited to the feast?" asked Maskull.

  Haunte pointed to the hanging flesh and to the liquor skins, but did not pause in his chewing.

  "Where's a cup?" inquired Maskull, lifting one of the skins.

  Haunte indicated a clay goblet lying on the floor. Maskull picked it up, undid the neck of the skin, and, resting it under his arm, filled the cup. Tasting the liquor, he discovered it to be raw spirit. He tossed off the draught, and then felt much better.

  The second cupful he proffered to Corpang. The latter took a single sip, swallowed it, and then passed the cup back without a word. He refused to drink again, as long as they were in the cave. Maskull finished the cup, and began to throw off care.

  Going to the meat line, he took down a large double handful, and sat down on a pile of skins to eat at his ease. The flesh was tough and coarse, but he had never tasted anything sweeter. He could not understand the flavour, which was not surprising in a world of strange animals. The meal proceeded in silence. Corpang ate sparingly, standing up, and afterward lay down on a bundle of furs. His bold eyes watched all the movements of the other two. Haunte had not drunk as yet.

  At last Maskull concluded his meal. He emptied another cup, sighed pleasantly, and prepared to talk.

  "Now explain further about your women, Haunte."

  Haunte fetched another skin of liqu
or and a second cup. He tore off the string with his teeth, and poured out and drank cup after cup in quick succession. Then he sat down, crossed his legs, and turned to Maskull.

  "Well?"

  "So they are objectionable?"

  "They are deadly."

  "Deadly? In what way can they possibly be deadly?"

  "You will learn. I was watching you in the boat, Maskull. You had some bad feelings, eh?"

  "I don't conceal it. There were times when I felt as if I were struggling with a nightmare. What caused it?"

  "The female atmosphere of Lichstorm. Sexual passion."

  "I had no passion."

  "That was passion - the first stage. Nature tickles your people into marriage, but it tortures us. Wait till you get outside. You'll have a return of those sensations - only ten times worse. The drink you've had will see to that… How do you suppose it will all end?"

  "If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you questions."

  Haunte laughed loudly. "Sullenbode."

  "You mean it will end in my seeking Sullenbode?"

  "But what will come of it, Maskull? What will she give you? Sweet, fainting, white-armed, feminine voluptuousness?"

  Maskull coolly drank another cup. "And why should she give all that to a passerby?"

  "Well, as a matter of fact, she hasn't it to give. No, what she will give you, and what you'll accept from her, because you can't help it, is - anguish, insanity, possibly death."

  "You may be talking sense, but it sounds like raving to me. Why should I accept insanity and death?"

  "Because your passion will force you to."

  "What about yourself?" Maskull asked, biting his nails.

  "Oh, I have my male stones. I am immune."

  "Is that all that prevents you from being like other men?"

  "Yes, but don't attempt any tricks, Maskull."

  Maskull went on drinking steadily, and said nothing for a time. "So men and women here are hostile to each other, and love is unknown?" he proceeded at last.

  "That magic word… Shall I tell you what love is, Maskull? Love between male and female is impossible. When Maskull loves a woman, it is Maskull's female ancestors who are loving her. But here in this land the men are pure males. They have drawn nothing from the female side."

  "Where do the male stones come from?"

  "Oh, they are not freaks. There must be whole beds of the stuff somewhere. It is all that prevents the world from being a pure female world. It would be one big mass of heavy sweetness, without individual shapes."

  "Yet this same sweetness is torturing to men?"

  "The life of an absolute male is fierce. An excess of life is dangerous to the body. How can it be anything else than torturing?"

  Corpang now sat up suddenly, and addressed Haunte. "I remind you of your promise to tell about Muspel."

  Haunte regarded him with a malevolent smile. "Ha! The underground man has come to life."

  "Yes, tell us," put in Maskull carelessly.

  Haunte drank, and laughed a little. "Well, the tale's short, and hardly worth telling, but since you're interested… A stranger came here five years ago, inquiring after Muspel-light. His name was Lodd. He came from the east. He came up to me one bright morning in summer, outside this very cave. If you ask me to describe him - I can't imagine a second man like him. He looked so proud, noble, superior, that I felt my own blood to be dirty by comparison. You can guess I don't have this feeling for everyone. Now that I am recalling him, he was not so much superior as different. I was so impressed that I rose and talked to him standing. He inquired the direction of the mountain Adage. He went on to say, 'They say Muspel-light is sometimes seen there. What do you know of such a thing?' I told him the truth - that I knew nothing about it, and then he went on, 'Well, I am going to Adage. And tell those who come after me on the same errand that they had better do the same thing.' That was the whole conversation. He started on his way, and I've never seen him or heard of him since."

  "So you didn't have the curiosity to follow him?"

  "No, because the moment he had turned his back all my interest in the man somehow seemed to vanish."

  "Probably because he was useless to you."

  Corpang glanced at Maskull. "Our road is marked out for us."

  "So it would appear," said Maskull indifferently.

  The talk flagged for a time. Maskull felt the silence oppressive, and grew restless.

  "What do you call the colour of your skin, Haunte, as I saw it in daylight? It struck me as strange."

  "Dolm," said Haunte.

  "A compound of ulfire and blue," explained Corpang.

  "Now I know. These colours are puzzling for a stranger."

  "What colours have you in your world?" asked Corpang.

  "Only three primary ones, but here you seem to have five, though how it comes about I can't imagine."

  "There are two sets of three primary colours here," said Corpang, "but as one of the colours - blue - is identical in both sets, altogether there are five primary colours."

  "Why two sets?"

  "Produced by the two suns. Branchspell produces blue, yellow, and red; Alppain, ulfire, blue, and jale."

  "It's remarkable that explanation has never occurred to me before."

  "So here you have another illustration of the necessary trinity of nature. Blue is existence. It is darkness seen through light; a contrasting of existence and nothingness. Yellow is relation. In yellow light we see the relation of objects in the clearest way. Red is feeling. When we see red, we are thrown back on our personal feelings… As regards the Alppain colours, blue stands in the middle and is therefore not existence, but relation. Ulfire is existence; so it must be a different sort of existence."

  Haunte yawned. "There are marvellous philosophers in your underground hole."

  Maskull got up and looked about him.

  "Where does that other door lead to?"

  "Better explore," said Haunte.

  Maskull took him at his word, and strolled across the cave, flinging the curtain aside and disappearing into the night. Haunte rose abruptly and hurried after him.

  Corpang too got to his feet. He went over to the untouched spirit skins, untied the necks, and allowed the contents to gush out on to the floor. Next he took the hunting spears, and snapped off the points between his hands. Before he had time to resume his seat, Haunte and Maskull reappeared. The host's quick, shifty eyes at once took in what had happened. He smiled, and turned pale.

  "You haven't been idle, friend."

  Corpang fixed Haunte with his bold, heavy gaze. "I thought it well to draw your teeth."

  Maskull burst out laughing. "The toad's come into the light to some purpose, Haunte. Who would have expected it?"

  Haunte, after staring hard at Corpang for two or three minutes, suddenly uttered a strange cry, like an evil spirit, and flung himself upon him. The two men began to wrestle like wildcats. They were as often on the floor as on their legs, and Maskull could not see who was getting the better of it. He made no attempt to separate them. A thought came into his head and, snatching up the two male stones, he ran with them, laughing, through the upper doorway, into the open night air.

  The door overlooked an abyss on another face of the mountain. A narrow ledge, sprinkled with green snow, wound along the cliff to the right; it was the only available path. He pitched the pebbles over the edge of the chasm. Although hard and heavy in his hand, they sank more like feathers than stones, and left a long trail of vapour behind. While Maskull was still watching them disappear, Haunte came rushing out of the cavern, followed by Corpang. He gripped Maskull's arm excitedly.

  "What in Krag's name have you done?"

  "Overboard they have gone," replied Maskull, renewing his laughter.

  "You accursed madman!"

  Haunte's luminous colour came and went, just as though his internal light were breathing. Then he grew suddenly calm, by a supreme exertion of his will.

  "You know this kills me?"
/>
  "Haven't you been doing your best this last hour to make me ripe for Sullenbode? Well then, cheer up, and join the pleasure party!"

  "You say it as a joke, but it is the miserable truth."

  Haunte's jeering malevolence had completely vanished. He looked a sick man - yet somehow his face had become nobler.

  "I would be very sorry for you, Haunte, if it did not entail my being also very sorry for myself. We are now all three together on the same errand - which doesn't appear to have struck you yet."

  "But why this errand at all?" asked Corpang quietly. "Can't you men exercise self-control till you have arrived out of danger?"

  Haunte fixed him with wild eyes. "No. The phantoms come trooping in on me already."

  He sat down moodily, but the next minute was up again.

  "And I cannot wait… the game is started."

  Soon afterward, by silent consent, they began to walk the ledge, Haunte in front. It was narrow, ascending, and slippery, so that extreme caution was demanded. The way was lighted by the self-luminous snow and rocks.

  When they had covered about half a mile, Maskull, who went second of the party, staggered, caught the cliff, and finally sat down.

  "The drink works. My old sensations are returning, but worse."

  Haunte turned back. "Then you are a doomed man."

  Maskull, though fully conscious of his companions and situation, imagined that he was being oppressed by a black, shapeless, supernatural being, who was trying to clasp him. He was filled with horror, trembled violently, yet could not move a limb. Sweat tumbled off his face in great drops. The waking nightmare lasted a long time, but during that space it kept coming and going. At one moment the vision seemed on the point of departing; the next it almost took shape - which he knew would be his death. Suddenly it vanished altogether - he was free. A fresh spring breeze fanned his face; he heard the slow, solitary singing of a sweet bird; and it seemed to him as if a poem had shot together in his soul. Such flashing, heartbreaking joy he had never experienced before in all his life! Almost immediately that too vanished.