by Anthology
"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.
Sitting up, he passed his hand across his eyes and swayed quietly, like one who has been visited by an angel.
"Your colour changed to white," said Corpang. "What happened?"
"I passed through torture to love," replied Maskull simply.
He stood up. Haunte gazed at him sombrely. "Will you not describe that passage?"
Maskull answered slowly and thoughtfully. "When I was in Matterplay, I saw heavy clouds discharge themselves and change to coloured, living animals. In the same way, my black, chaotic pangs just now seemed to consolidate themselves and spring together as a new sort of joy. The joy would not have been possible without the preliminary nightmare. It is not accidental; Nature intends it so. The truth has just flashed through my brain.... You men of Lichstorm don't go far enough. You stop at the pangs, Without realising that they are birth pangs."
"If this is true, you are a great pioneer," muttered Haunte.
"How does this sensation differ from common love?" interrogated Corpang.
"This was all that love is, multiplied by wildness."
Corpang fingered his chin awhile. "The Lichstorm men, however, will never reach this stage, for they are too masculine."
Haunte turned pale. "Why should we alone suffer?"
"Nature is freakish and cruel, and doesn't act according to justice.... Follow us, Haunte, and escape from it all."
"I'll see," muttered Haunte. "Perhaps I will."
"Have we far to go, to Sullenbode?" inquired Maskull.
"No, her home's under the hanging cap of Sarclash."
"What is to happen tonight?" Maskull spoke to himself, but Haunte answered him.
"Don't expect anything pleasant, in spite of what has just occurred. She is not a woman, but a mass of pure sex. Your passion will draw her out into human shape, but only for a moment. If the change were permanent, you would have endowed her with a soul."
"Perhaps the change might be made permanent."
"To do that, it is not enough to desire her; she must desire you as well. But why should she desire you?"
"Nothing turns out as one expects," said Maskull, shaking his head. "We had better get on again."
They resumed the journey. The ledge still rose, but, on turning a corner of the cliff, Haunte quitted it and began to climb a steep gully, which mounted directly to the upper heights. Here they were compelled to use both hands and feet. Maskull thought all the while of nothing but the overwhelming sweetness he had just experienced.
The flat ground on top was dry and springy. There was no more snow, and bright plants appeared. Haunte turned sharply to the left.
"This must be under the cap," said Maskull.
"It is; and within five minutes you will see Sullenbode."
When he spoke his words, Maskull's li
ps surprised him by their tender sensitiveness. Their action against each other sent thrills throughout his body.
The grass shone dimly. A huge tree, with glowing branches, came into sight. It bore a multitude of red fruit, like hanging lanterns, but no leaves. Underneath this tree Sullenbode was sitting. Her beautiful light--a mingling of jale and white--gleamed softly through the darkness. She sat erect, on crossed legs, asleep. She was clothed in a singular skin garment, which started as a cloak thrown over one shoulder, and ended as loose breeches terminating above the knees. Her forearms were lightly folded, and in one hand she held a half-eaten fruit.
Maskull stood over her and looked down, deeply interested. He thought he had never seen anything half so feminine. Her flesh was almost melting in its softness. So undeveloped were the facial organs that they looked scarcely human; only the lips were full, pouting, and expressive. In their richness, these lips seemed like a splash of vivid will on a background of slumbering protoplasm. Her hair was undressed. Its colour could not be distinguished. It was long and tangled, and had been tucked into her garment behind, for convenience.
Corpang looked calm and sullen, but both the others were visibly agitated. Maskull's heart was hammering away under his chest. Haunte pulled him, and said, "My head feels as if it were being torn from my shoulders."
"What can that mean?"
"Yet there's a horrible joy in it," added Haunte, with a sickly smile.
He put his hand on the woman's shoulder. She awoke softly, glanced up at them, smiled, and then resumed eating her fruit. Maskull did not imagine that she had intelligence enough to speak. Haunte suddenly dropped on his knees, and kissed her lips.
She did not repulse him. During the continuance of the kiss, Maskull noticed with a shock that her face was altering. The features emerged from their indistinctness and became human, and almost powerful. The smile faded, a scowl took its place. She thrust Haunte away, rose to her feet, and stared beneath bent brows at the three men, each one in turn. Maskull came last; his face she studied for quite a long time, but nothing indicated what she thought.
Meanwhile Haunte again approached her, staggering and grinning. She suffered him quietly; but the instant lips met lips the second time, he fell backward with a startled cry, as though he had come in contact with an electric wire. The back of his head struck the ground, and he lay there motionless.
Corpang sprang forward to his assistance. But, when he saw what had happened, he left him where he was.
"Maskull, come here quickly!"
The light was perceptibly fading from Haunte's skin, as Maskull bent over. The man was dead. His face was unrecognisable. The head had been split from the top downward into two halves, streaming with strange-coloured blood, as though it had received a terrible blow from an axe.
"This couldn't be from the fall," said Maskull.
"No, Sullenbode did it."
Maskull turned quickly to look at the woman. She had resumed her former attitude on the ground. The momentary intelligence had vanished from her face, and she was again smiling.
Chapter 19.
SULLENBODE
Sullenbode's naked skin glowed softly through the darkness, but the clothed part of her person was invisible. Maskull watched her senseless, smiling face, and shivered. Strange feelings ran through his body.
Corpang spoke out of the night. "She looks like an evil spirit filled with deadliness."
"It was like deliberately kissing lightning."
"Haunte was insane with passion."
"So am I," said Maskull quietly. "My body seems full of rocks, all grinding against one another."
"This is what I was afraid of."
"It appears I shall have to kiss her too."
Corpang pulled his arm. "Have you lost all manliness?"
But Maskull impatiently shook himself free. He plucked nervously at his beard, and stared at Sullenbode. His lips kept twitching. After this had gone on for a few minutes, he stepped forward, bent over the woman, and lifted her bodily in his arms. Setting her upright against the rugged tree trunk, he kissed her.
A cold, knifelike shock passed down his frame. He thought that it was death, and lost consciousness.
When his sense returned, Sullenbode was holding him by the shoulder with one hand at arm's length, searching his face with gloomy eyes. At first he failed to recognise her; it was not the woman he had kissed, but another. Then he gradually realised that her face was identical with that which Haunte's action had called into existence. A great calmness came upon him; his bad sensations had disappeared.
Sullenbode was transformed into a living soul. Her skin was firm, her features were strong, her eyes gleamed with the consciousness of power. She was tall and slight, but slow in all her gestures and movements. Her face was not beautiful. It was long, and palely lighted, while the mouth crossed the lower half like a gash of fire. The lips were as voluptuous as before. Her brows were heavy. There was nothing vulgar in her--she looked the kingliest of all women. She appeared not more than twenty-five.
Growing tired, apparently, of his scrutiny, she pushed him a little way and allowed her arm to drop, at the same time curving her mouth into a long, bowlike smile. "Whom have I to thank for this gift of life?"
Her voice was rich, slow, and odd. Maskull felt himself in a dream.
"My name is Maskull."
She motioned to him to come a step nearer. "Listen, Maskull. Man after man has drawn me into the world, but they could not keep me there, for I did not wish it. But now you have drawn me into it for all time, for good or evil."
Maskull stretched a hand toward the now invisible corpse, and said quietly, "What have you to say about him?"
"Who was it?"
"Haunte."
"So that was Haunte. The news will travel far and wide. He was a famous man."
"It's a horrible affair. I can't think that you killed him deliberately."
"We women are endowed with terrible power, but it is our only protection. We do not want these visits; we loathe them."
"I might have died, too."
"You came together?"
"There were three of us. Corpang still stands over there."
"I see a faintly glimmering form. What do you want of me, Corpang?"
"Nothing."
"Then go away, and leave me with Maskull."
"No need, Corpang. I am coming with you."
"This is not that pleasure, then?" demanded the low, earnest voice, out of the darkness.
"No, that pleasure has not returned."
Sullenbode gripped his arm hard. "What pleasure are you speaking of?"
"A presentiment of love, which I felt not long ago."
"But what do you feel now?"
"Calm and free."
Sullenbode's face seemed like a pallid mask, hiding a slow, swelling sea of elemental passions. "I do not know how it will end, Maskull, but we will still keep together a little. Where are you going?"
"To Adage," said Corpang, stepping forward.
"But why?"
"We are following the steps of Lodd, who went there years ago, to find Muspel-light."
"It's the light of another world."
"The quest is grand. But cannot women see that light?"
"On one condition," said Corpang. "They must forget their sex. Womanhood and love belong to life, while Muspel is above life."
"I give you all other men," said Sullenbode. "Maskull is mine."
"No. I am not here to help Maskull to a lover but to remind him of the existence of nobler things."
"You are a good man. But you two alone will never strike the road to Adage."
"Are you acquainted with it?"
Again the woman gripped Maskull's arm. "What is love--which Corpang despises?"
Maskull looked at her attentively. Sullenbode went on, "Love is that which is perfectly willing to disappear and become nothing, for the sake of the beloved."
Corpang wrinkled his forehead. "A magnanimous female lover is new
in my experience."
Maskull put him aside with his hand, and said to Sullenbode, "Are you contemplating a sacrifice?"
She gazed at her feet, and smiled. "What does it matter what my thoughts are? Tell me, are you starting at once, or do you mean to rest first? It's a rough road to Adage."
"What's in your mind?" demanded Maskull.
"I will guide you a little. When we reach the ridge between Sarclash and Adage, perhaps I shall turn back."
"And then?"
"Then if the moon shines perhaps you will arrive before daybreak, but if it is dark it's hardly likely."
"That's not what I meant. What will become of you after we have parted company?"
"I shall return somewhere--perhaps here."
Maskull went close up to her, in order to study her face better. "Shall you sink back into--the old state?"
"No, Maskull, thank heaven."
"Then how will you live?"
Sullenbode calmly removed the hand which he had placed on her arm. There was a sort of swirling flame in her eyes. "And who said I would go on living?"
Maskull blinked at her in bewilderment. A few moments passed before he spoke again. "You women are a sacrificing lot. You know I can't leave you like this."
Their eyes met. Neither withdrew them, and neither felt embarrassed.
"You will always be the most generous of men, Maskull. Now let us go.... Corpang is a single-minded personage, and the least we others--who aren't so single-minded--can do is to help him to his destination. We mustn't inquire whether the destination of single-minded men is as a rule worth arriving at."
"If it is good for Maskull, it will be good for me."
"Well, no vessel can hold more than its appointed measure."
Corpang gave a wry smile. "During your long sleep you appear to have picked up wisdom."
"Yes, Corpang, I have met many men, and explored many minds."
As they moved off, Maskull remembered Haunte.
"Can we not bury that poor fellow?"
"By this time tomorrow we shall need burial ourselves. But I do not include Corpang."
"We have no tools, so you must have your way. You killed him, but I am the real murderer. I stole his protecting light."