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diff --git a/1329-0.txt b/1329-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a6d0f92 --- /dev/null +++ b/1329-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12236 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1329 *** + +A VOYAGE TO ARCTURUS. + +By David Lindsay + + + +CONTENTS + + + +Chapter 1. THE SÉANCE + +Chapter 2. IN THE STREET + +Chapter 3. STARKNESS + +Chapter 4. THE VOICE + +Chapter 5. THE NIGHT OF DEPARTURE + +Chapter 6. JOIWIND + +Chapter 7. PANAWE + +Chapter 8. THE LUSION PLAIN + +Chapter 9. OCEAXE + +Chapter 10. TYDOMIN + +Chapter 11. ON DISSCOURN + +Chapter 12. SPADEVIL + +Chapter 13. THE WOMBFLASH FOREST + +Chapter 14. POLECRAB + +Chapter 15. SWAYLONE’S ISLAND + +Chapter 16. LEEHALLFAE + +Chapter 17. CORPANG + +Chapter 18. HAUNTE + +Chapter 19. SULLENBODE + +Chapter 20. BAREY + +Chapter 21. MUSPEL + + + +Chapter 1. THE SÉANCE + +On a March evening, at eight o’clock, Backhouse, the medium—a fast- +rising star in the psychic world—was ushered into the study at Prolands, +the Hampstead residence of Montague Faull. The room was illuminated only +by the light of a blazing fire. The host, eying him with indolent +curiosity, got up, and the usual conventional greetings were exchanged. +Having indicated an easy chair before the fire to his guest, the South +American merchant sank back again into his own. The electric light was +switched on. Faull’s prominent, clear-cut features, metallic-looking +skin, and general air of bored impassiveness, did not seem greatly to +impress the medium, who was accustomed to regard men from a special +angle. Backhouse, on the contrary, was a novelty to the merchant. As he +tranquilly studied him through half closed lids and the smoke of a +cigar, he wondered how this little, thickset person with the pointed +beard contrived to remain so fresh and sane in appearance, in view of +the morbid nature of his occupation. + +“Do you smoke?” drawled Faull, by way of starting the conversation. “No? +Then will you take a drink?” + +“Not at present, I thank you.” + +A pause. + +“Everything is satisfactory? The materialisation will take place?” + +“I see no reason to doubt it.” + +“That’s good, for I would not like my guests to be disappointed. I have +your check written out in my pocket.” + +“Afterward will do quite well.” + +“Nine o’clock was the time specified, I believe?” + +“I fancy so.” + +The conversation continued to flag. Faull sprawled in his chair, and +remained apathetic. + +“Would you care to hear what arrangements I have made?” + +“I am unaware that any are necessary, beyond chairs for your guests.” + +“I mean the decoration of the siance room, the music, and so forth.” + +Backhouse stared at his host. “But this is not a theatrical +performance.” + +“That’s correct. Perhaps I ought to explain.... There will be ladies +present, and ladies, you know, are aesthetically inclined.” + +“In that case I have no objection. I only hope they will enjoy the +performance to the end.” + +He spoke rather dryly. + +“Well, that’s all right, then,” said Faull. Flicking his cigar into the +fire, he got up and helped himself to whisky. + +“Will you come and see the room?” + +“Thank you, no. I prefer to have nothing to do with it till the time +arrives.” + +“Then let’s go to see my sister, Mrs. Jameson, who is in the drawing +room. She sometimes does me the kindness to act as my hostess, as I am +unmarried.” + +“I will be delighted,” said Backhouse coldly. + +They found the lady alone, sitting by the open pianoforte in a pensive +attitude. She had been playing Scriabin and was overcome. The medium +took in her small, tight, patrician features and porcelain-like hands, +and wondered how Faull came by such a sister. She received him bravely, +with just a shade of quiet emotion. He was used to such receptions at +the hands of the sex, and knew well how to respond to them. + +“What amazes me,” she half whispered, after ten minutes of graceful, +hollow conversation, “is, if you must know it, not so much the +manifestation itself—though that will surely be wonderful—as your +assurance that it will take place. Tell me the grounds of your +confidence.” + +“I dream with open eyes,” he answered, looking around at the door, “and +others see my dreams. That is all.” + +“But that’s beautiful,” responded Mrs. Jameson. She smiled rather +absently, for the first guest had just entered. + +It was Kent-Smith, the ex-magistrate, celebrated for his shrewd judicial +humour, which, however, he had the good sense not to attempt to carry +into private life. Although well on the wrong side of seventy, his eyes +were still disconcertingly bright. With the selective skill of an old +man, he immediately settled himself in the most comfortable of many +comfortable chairs. + +“So we are to see wonders tonight?” + +“Fresh material for your autobiography,” remarked Faull. + +“Ah, you should not have mentioned my unfortunate book. An old public +servant is merely amusing himself in his retirement, Mr. Backhouse. You +have no cause for alarm—I have studied in the school of discretion.” + +“I am not alarmed. There can be no possible objection to your publishing +whatever you please.” + +“You are most kind,” said the old man, with a cunning smile. + +“Trent is not coming tonight,” remarked Mrs. Jameson, throwing a curious +little glance at her brother. + +“I never thought he would. It’s not in his line.” + +“Mrs. Trent, you must understand,” she went on, addressing the ex- +magistrate, “has placed us all under a debt of gratitude. She has +decorated the old lounge hall upstairs most beautifully, and has secured +the services of the sweetest little orchestra.” + +“But this is Roman magnificence.” + +“Backhouse thinks the spirits should be treated with more deference,” +laughed Faull. + +“Surely, Mr. Backhouse—a poetic environment...” + +“Pardon me. I am a simple man, and always prefer to reduce things to +elemental simplicity. I raise no opposition, but I express my opinion. +Nature is one thing, and art is another.” + +“And I am not sure that I don’t agree with you,” said the ex-magistrate. +“An occasion like this ought to be simple, to guard against the +possibility of deception—if you will forgive my bluntness, Mr. +Backhouse.” + +“We shall sit in full light,” replied Backhouse, “and every opportunity +will be given to all to inspect the room. I shall also ask you to submit +me to a personal examination.” + +A rather embarrassed silence followed. It was broken by the arrival of +two more guests, who entered together. These were Prior, the prosperous +City coffee importer, and Lang, the stockjobber, well known in his own +circle as an amateur prestidigitator. Backhouse was slightly acquainted +with the latter. Prior, perfuming the room with the faint odour of wine +and tobacco smoke, tried to introduce an atmosphere of joviality into +the proceedings. Finding that no one seconded his efforts, however, he +shortly subsided and fell to examining the water colours on the walls. +Lang, tall, thin, and growing bald, said little, but stared at Backhouse +a good deal. + +Coffee, liqueurs, and cigarettes were now brought in. Everyone partook, +except Lang and the medium. At the same moment, Professor Halbart was +announced. He was the eminent psychologist, the author and lecturer on +crime, insanity, genius, and so forth, considered in their mental +aspects. His presence at such a gathering somewhat mystified the other +guests, but all felt as if the object of their meeting had immediately +acquired additional solemnity. He was small, meagre-looking, and mild in +manner, but was probably the most stubborn-brained of all that mixed +company. Completely ignoring the medium, he at once sat down beside +Kent-Smith, with whom he began to exchange remarks. + +At a few minutes past the appointed hour Mrs. Trent entered, +unannounced. She was a woman of about twenty-eight. She had a white, +demure, saintlike face, smooth black hair, and lips so crimson and full +that they seemed to be bursting with blood. Her tall, graceful body was +most expensively attired. Kisses were exchanged between her and Mrs. +Jameson. She bowed to the rest of the assembly, and stole a half glance +and a smile at Faull. The latter gave her a queer look, and Backhouse, +who lost nothing, saw the concealed barbarian in the complacent gleam of +his eye. She refused the refreshment that was offered her, and Faull +proposed that, as everyone had now arrived, they should adjourn to the +lounge hall. + +Mrs. Trent held up a slender palm. “Did you, or did you not, give me +carte blanche, Montague?” + +“Of course I did,” said Faull, laughing. “But what’s the matter?” + +“Perhaps I have been rather presumptuous. I don’t know. I have invited a +couple of friends to join us. No, no one knows them.... The two most +extraordinary individuals you ever saw. And mediums, I am sure.” + +“It sounds very mysterious. Who are these conspirators?” + +“At least tell us their names, you provoking girl,” put in Mrs. Jameson. + +“One rejoices in the name of Maskull, and the other in that of +Nightspore. That’s nearly all that I know about them, so don’t overwhelm +me with any more questions.” + +“But where did you pick them up? You must have picked them up +somewhere.” + +“But this is a cross-examination. Have I sinned against convention? I +swear I will tell you not another word about them. They will be here +directly, and then I will deliver them to your tender mercy.” + +“I don’t know them,” said Faull, “and nobody else seems to, but, of +course, we will all be very pleased to have them.... Shall we wait, or +what?” + +“I said nine, and it’s past that now. It’s quite possible they may not +turn up after all.... Anyway, don’t wait.” + +“I would prefer to start at once,” said Backhouse. + +The lounge, a lofty room, forty feet long by twenty wide, had been +divided for the occasion into two equal parts by a heavy brocade curtain +drawn across the middle. The far end was thus concealed. The nearer half +had been converted into an auditorium by a crescent of armchairs. There +was no other furniture. A large fire was burning halfway along the wall, +between the chairbacks and the door. The room was brilliantly lighted by +electric bracket lamps. A sumptuous carpet covered the floor. + +Having settled his guests in their seats, Faull stepped up to the +curtain and flung it aside. A replica, or nearly so, of the Drury Lane +presentation of the temple scene in The Magic Flute was then exposed to +view: the gloomy, massive architecture of the interior, the glowing sky +above it in the background, and, silhouetted against the latter, the +gigantic seated statue of the Pharaoh. A fantastically carved wooden +couch lay before the pedestal of the statue. Near the curtain, obliquely +placed to the auditorium, was a plain oak armchair, for the use of the +medium. + +Many of those present felt privately that the setting was quite +inappropriate to the occasion and savoured rather unpleasantly of +ostentation. Backhouse in particular seemed put out. The usual +compliments, however, were showered on Mrs. Trent as the deviser of so +remarkable a theatre. Faull invited his friends to step forward and +examine the apartment as minutely as they might desire. Prior and Lang +were the only ones to accept. The former wandered about among the +pasteboard scenery, whistling to himself and occasionally tapping a part +of it with his knuckles. Lang, who was in his element, ignored the rest +of his party and commenced a patient, systematic search, on his own +account, for secret apparatus. Faull and Mrs. Trent stood in a corner of +the temple, talking together in low tones; while Mrs. Jameson, +pretending to hold Backhouse in conversation, watched them as only a +deeply interested woman knows how to watch. + +Lang, to his own disgust, having failed to find anything of a suspicious +nature, the medium now requested that his own clothing should be +searched. + +“All these precautions are quite needless and beside the matter in hand, +as you will immediately see for yourselves. My reputation demands, +however, that other people who are not present would not be able to say +afterward that trickery has been resorted to.” + +To Lang again fell the ungrateful task of investigating pockets and +sleeves. Within a few minutes he expressed himself satisfied that +nothing mechanical was in Backhouse’s possession. The guests reseated +themselves. Faull ordered two more chairs to be brought for Mrs. Trent’s +friends, who, however, had not yet arrived. He then pressed an electric +bell, and took his own seat. + +The signal was for the hidden orchestra to begin playing. A murmur of +surprise passed through the audience as, without previous warning, the +beautiful and solemn strains of Mozart’s “temple” music pulsated through +the air. The expectation of everyone was raised, while, beneath her +pallor and composure, it could be seen that Mrs. Trent was deeply moved. +It was evident that aesthetically she was by far the most important +person present. Faull watched her, with his face sunk on his chest, +sprawling as usual. + +Backhouse stood up, with one hand on the back of his chair, and began +speaking. The music instantly sank to pianissimo, and remained so for as +long as he was on his legs. + +“Ladies and gentlemen, you are about to witness a materialisation. That +means you will see something appear in space that was not previously +there. At first it will appear as a vaporous form, but finally it will +be a solid body, which anyone present may feel and handle—and, for +example, shake hands with. For this body will be in the human shape. It +will be a real man or woman—which, I can’t say—but a man or woman +without known antecedents. If, however, you demand from me an +explanation of the origin of this materialised form—where it comes from, +whence the atoms and molecules composing its tissues are derived—I am +unable to satisfy you. I am about to produce the phenomenon; if anyone +can explain it to me afterward, I shall be very grateful.... That is all +I have to say.” + +He resumed his seat, half turning his back on the assembly, and paused +for a moment before beginning his task. + +It was precisely at this minute that the manservant opened the door and +announced in a subdued but distinct voice: “Mr. Maskull, Mr. +Nightspore.” + +Everyone turned round. Faull rose to welcome the late arrivals. +Backhouse also stood up, and stared hard at them. + +The two strangers remained standing by the door, which was closed +quietly behind them. They seemed to be waiting for the mild sensation +caused by their appearance to subside before advancing into the room. +Maskull was a kind of giant, but of broader and more robust physique +than most giants. He wore a full beard. His features were thick and +heavy, coarsely modelled, like those of a wooden carving; but his eyes, +small and black, sparkled with the fires of intelligence and audacity. +His hair was short, black, and bristling. Nightspore was of middle +height, but so tough-looking that he appeared to be trained out of all +human frailties and susceptibilities. His hairless face seemed consumed +by an intense spiritual hunger, and his eyes were wild and distant. Both +men were dressed in tweeds. + +Before any words were spoken, a loud and terrible crash of falling +masonry caused the assembled party to start up from their chairs in +consternation. It sounded as if the entire upper part of the building +had collapsed. Faull sprang to the door, and called to the servant to +say what was happening. The man had to be questioned twice before he +gathered what was required of him. He said he had heard nothing. In +obedience to his master’s order, he went upstairs. Nothing, however, was +amiss there, neither had the maids heard anything. + +In the meantime Backhouse, who almost alone of those assembled had +preserved his sangfroid, went straight up to Nightspore, who stood +gnawing his nails. + +“Perhaps you can explain it, sir?” + +“It was supernatural,” said Nightspore, in a harsh, muffled voice, +turning away from his questioner. + +“I guessed so. It is a familiar phenomenon, but I have never heard it so +loud.” + +He then went among the guests, reassuring them. By degrees they settled +down, but it was observable that their former easy and good-humoured +interest in the proceedings was now changed to strained watchfulness. +Maskull and Nightspore took the places allotted to them. Mrs. Trent kept +stealing uneasy glances at them. Throughout the entire incident, +Mozart’s hymn continued to be played. The orchestra also had heard +nothing. + +Backhouse now entered on his task. It was one that began to be familiar +to him, and he had no anxiety about the result. It was not possible to +effect the materialisation by mere concentration of will, or the +exercise of any faculty; otherwise many people could have done what he +had engaged himself to do. His nature was phenomenal—the dividing wall +between himself and the spiritual world was broken in many places. +Through the gaps in his mind the inhabitants of the invisible, when he +summoned them, passed for a moment timidly and awfully into the solid, +coloured universe.... He could not say how it was brought about.... The +experience was a rough one for the body, and many such struggles would +lead to insanity and early death. That is why Backhouse was stern and +abrupt in his manner. The coarse, clumsy suspicion of some of the +witnesses, the frivolous aestheticism of others, were equally obnoxious +to his grim, bursting heart; but he was obliged to live, and, to pay his +way, must put up with these impertinences. + +He sat down facing the wooden couch. His eyes remained open but seemed +to look inward. His cheeks paled, and he became noticeably thinner. The +spectators almost forgot to breathe. The more sensitive among them began +to feel, or imagine, strange presences all around them. Maskull’s eyes +glittered with anticipation, and his brows went up and down, but +Nightspore appeared bored. + +After a long ten minutes the pedestal of the statue was seen to become +slightly blurred, as though an intervening mist were rising from the +ground. This slowly developed into a visible cloud, coiling hither and +thither, and constantly changing shape. The professor half rose, and +held his glasses with one hand further forward on the bridge of his +nose. + +By slow stages the cloud acquired the dimensions and approximate outline +of an adult human body, although all was still vague and blurred. It +hovered lightly in the air, a foot or so above the couch. Backhouse +looked haggard and ghastly. Mrs. Jameson quietly fainted in her chair, +but she was unnoticed, and presently revived. The apparition now settled +down upon the couch, and at the moment of doing so seemed suddenly to +grow dark, solid, and manlike. Many of the guests were as pale as the +medium himself, but Faull preserved his stoical apathy, and glanced once +or twice at Mrs. Trent. She was staring straight at the couch, and was +twisting a little lace handkerchief through the different fingers of her +hand. The music went on playing. + +The figure was by this time unmistakably that of a man lying down. The +face focused itself into distinctness. The body was draped in a sort of +shroud, but the features were those of a young man. One smooth hand fell +over, nearly touching the floor, white and motionless. The weaker +spirits of the company stared at the vision in sick horror; the rest +were grave and perplexed. The seeming man was dead, but somehow it did +not appear like a death succeeding life, but like a death preliminary to +life. All felt that he might sit up at any minute. + +“Stop that music!” muttered Backhouse, tottering from his chair and +facing the party. Faull touched the bell. A few more bars sounded, and +then total silence ensued. + +“Anyone who wants to may approach the couch,” said Backhouse with +difficulty. + +Lang at once advanced, and stared awestruck at the supernatural youth. + +“You are at liberty to touch,” said the medium. + +But Lang did not venture to, nor did any of the others, who one by one +stole up to the couch—until it came to Faull’s turn. He looked straight +at Mrs. Trent, who seemed frightened and disgusted at the spectacle +before her, and then not only touched the apparition but suddenly +grasped the drooping hand in his own and gave it a powerful squeeze. +Mrs. Trent gave a low scream. The ghostly visitor opened his eyes, +looked at Faull strangely, and sat up on the couch. A cryptic smile +started playing over his mouth. Faull looked at his hand; a feeling of +intense pleasure passed through his body. + +Maskull caught Mrs. Jameson in his arms; she was attacked by another +spell of faintness. Mrs. Trent ran forward, and led her out of the room. +Neither of them returned. + +The phantom body now stood upright, looking about him, still with his +peculiar smile. Prior suddenly felt sick, and went out. The other men +more or less hung together, for the sake of human society, but +Nightspore paced up and down, like a man weary and impatient, while +Maskull attempted to interrogate the youth. The apparition watched him +with a baffling expression, but did not answer. Backhouse was sitting +apart, his face buried in his hands. + +It was at this moment that the door was burst open violently, and a +stranger, unannounced, half leaped, half strode a few yards into the +room, and then stopped. None of Faull’s friends had ever seen him +before. He was a thick, shortish man, with surprising muscular +development and a head far too large in proportion to his body. His +beardless yellow face indicated, as a first impression, a mixture of +sagacity, brutality, and humour. + +“Aha-i, gentlemen!” he called out loudly. His voice was piercing, and +oddly disagreeable to the ear. “So we have a little visitor here.” + +Nightspore turned his back, but everyone else stared at the intruder in +astonishment. He took another few steps forward, which brought him to +the edge of the theatre. + +“May I ask, sir, how I come to have the honour of being your host?” +asked Faull sullenly. He thought that the evening was not proceeding as +smoothly as he had anticipated. + +The newcomer looked at him for a second, and then broke into a great, +roaring guffaw. He thumped Faull on the back playfully—but the play was +rather rough, for the victim was sent staggering against the wall before +he could recover his balance. + +“Good evening, my host!” + +“And good evening to you too, my lad!” he went on, addressing the +supernatural youth, who was now beginning to wander about the room, in +apparent unconsciousness of his surroundings. “I have seen someone very +like you before, I think.” + +There was no response. + +The intruder thrust his head almost up to the phantom’s face. “You have +no right here, as you know.” + +The shape looked back at him with a smile full of significance, which, +however, no one could understand. + +“Be careful what you are doing,” said Backhouse quickly. + +“What’s the matter, spirit usher?” + +“I don’t know who you are, but if you use physical violence toward that, +as you seem inclined to do, the consequences may prove very unpleasant.” + +“And without pleasure our evening would be spoiled, wouldn’t it, my +little mercenary friend?” + +Humour vanished from his face, like sunlight from a landscape, leaving +it hard and rocky. Before anyone realised what he was doing, he +encircled the soft, white neck of the materialised shape with his hairy +hands and, with a double turn, twisted it completely round. A faint, +unearthly shriek sounded, and the body fell in a heap to the floor. Its +face was uppermost. The guests were unutterably shocked to observe that +its expression had changed from the mysterious but fascinating smile to +a vulgar, sordid, bestial grin, which cast a cold shadow of moral +nastiness into every heart. The transformation was accompanied by a +sickening stench of the graveyard. + +The features faded rapidly away, the body lost its consistence, passing +from the solid to the shadowy condition, and, before two minutes had +elapsed, the spirit-form had entirely disappeared. + +The short stranger turned and confronted the party, with a long, loud +laugh, like nothing in nature. + +The professor talked excitedly to Kent-Smith in low tones. Faull +beckoned Backhouse behind a wing of scenery, and handed him his check +without a word. The medium put it in his pocket, buttoned his coat, and +walked out of the room. Lang followed him, in order to get a drink. + +The stranger poked his face up into Maskull’s. + +“Well, giant, what do you think of it all? Wouldn’t you like to see the +land where this sort of fruit grows wild?” + +“What sort of fruit?” + +“That specimen goblin.” + +Maskull waved him away with his huge hand. “Who are you, and how did you +come here?” + +“Call up your friend. Perhaps he may recognise me.” Nightspore had moved +a chair to the fire, and was watching the embers with a set, fanatical +expression. + +“Let Krag come to me, if he wants me,” he said, in his strange voice. + +“You see, he does know me,” uttered Krag, with a humorous look. Walking +over to Nightspore, he put a hand on the back of his chair. + +“Still the same old gnawing hunger?” + +“What is doing these days?” demanded Nightspore disdainfully, without +altering his attitude. + +“Surtur has gone, and we are to follow him.” + +“How do you two come to know each other, and of whom are you speaking?” +asked Maskull, looking from one to the other in perplexity. + +“Krag has something for us. Let us go outside,” replied Nightspore. He +got up, and glanced over his shoulder. Maskull, following the direction +of his eye, observed that the few remaining men were watching their +little group attentively. + + + +Chapter 2. IN THE STREET + +The three men gathered in the street outside the house. The night was +slightly frosty, but particularly clear, with an east wind blowing. The +multitude of blazing stars caused the sky to appear like a vast scroll +of hieroglyphic symbols. Maskull felt oddly excited; he had a sense that +something extraordinary was about to happen. “What brought you to this +house tonight, Krag, and what made you do what you did? How are we +understand that apparition?” + +“That must have been Crystalman’s expression on its face,” muttered +Nightspore. + +“We have discussed that, haven’t we, Maskull? Maskull is anxious to +behold that rare fruit in its native wilds.” + +Maskull looked at Krag carefully, trying to analyse his own feelings +toward him. He was distinctly repelled by the man’s personality, yet +side by side with this aversion a savage, living energy seemed to spring +up in his heart that in some strange fashion was attributable to Krag. + +“Why do you insist on this simile?” he asked. + +“Because it is apropos. Nightspore’s quite right. That was Crystalman’s +face, and we are going to Crystalman’s country.” + +“And where is this mysterious country?” + +“Tormance.” + +“That’s a quaint name. But where is it?” + +Krag grinned, showing his yellow teeth in the light of the street lamp. + +“It is the residential suburb of Arcturus.” + +“What is he talking about, Nightspore?... Do you mean the star of that +name?” he went on, to Krag. + +“Which you have in front of you at this very minute,” said Krag, +pointing a thick finger toward the brightest star in the south-eastern +sky. “There you see Arcturus, and Tormance is its one inhabited planet.” + +Maskull looked at the heavy, gleaming star, and again at Krag. Then he +pulled out a pipe, and began to fill it. + +“You must have cultivated a new form of humour, Krag.” + +“I am glad if I can amuse you, Maskull, if only for a few days.” + +“I meant to ask you—how do you know my name?” + +“It would be odd if I didn’t, seeing that I only came here on your +account. As a matter of fact, Nightspore and I are old friends.” + +Maskull paused with his suspended match. “You came here on my account?” + +“Surely. On your account and Nightspore’s. We three are to be fellow +travellers.” + +Maskull now lit his pipe and puffed away coolly for a few moments. + +“I’m sorry, Krag, but I must assume you are mad.” + +Krag threw his head back, and gave a scraping laugh. “Am I mad, +Nightspore?” + +“Has Surtur gone to Tormance?” ejaculated Nightspore in a strangled +voice, fixing his eyes on Krag’s face. + +“Yes, and he requires that we follow him at once.” + +Maskull’s heart began to beat strangely. It all sounded to him like a +dream conversation. + +“And since how long, Krag, have I been required to do things by a total +stranger.... Besides, who is this individual?” + +“Krag’s chief,” said Nightspore, turning his head away. + +“The riddle is too elaborate for me. I give up.” + +“You are looking for mysteries,” said Krag, “so naturally you are +finding them. Try and simplify your ideas, my friend. The affair is +plain and serious.” + +Maskull stared hard at him and smoked rapidly. + +“Where have you come from now?” demanded Nightspore suddenly. + +“From the old observatory at Starkness.... Have you heard of the famous +Starkness Observatory, Maskull?” + +“No. Where is it?” + +“On the north-east coast of Scotland. Curious discoveries are made there +from time to time.” + +“As, for example, how to make voyages to the stars. So this Surtur turns +out to be an astronomer. And you too, presumably?” + +Krag grinned again. “How long will it take you to wind up your affairs? +When can you be ready to start?” + +“You are too considerate,” said Maskull, laughing outright. “I was +beginning to fear that I would be hauled away at once.... However, I +have neither wife, land, nor profession, so there’s nothing to wait +for.... What is the itinerary?” + +“You are a fortunate man. A bold, daring heart, and no encumbrances.” +Krag’s features became suddenly grave and rigid. “Don’t be a fool, and +refuse a gift of luck. A gift declined is not offered a second time.” + +“Krag,” replied Maskull simply, returning his pipe to his pocket. “I ask +you to put yourself in my place. Even if I were a man sick for +adventures, how could I listen seriously to such an insane proposition +as this? What do I know about you, or your past record? You may be a +practical joker, or you may have come out of a madhouse—I know nothing +about it. If you claim to be an exceptional man, and want my +cooperation, you must offer me exceptional proofs.” + +“And what proofs would you consider adequate, Maskull?” + +As he spoke he gripped Maskull’s arm. A sharp, chilling pain immediately +passed through the latter’s body and at the same moment his brain caught +fire. A light burst in upon him like the rising of the sun. He asked +himself for the first time if this fantastic conversation could by any +chance refer to real things. + +“Listen, Krag,” he said slowly, while peculiar images and conceptions +started to travel in rich disorder through his mind. “You talk about a +certain journey. Well, if that journey were a possible one, and I were +given the chance of making it, I would be willing never to come back. +For twenty-four hours on that Arcturian planet, I would give my life. +That is my attitude toward that journey.... Now prove to me that you’re +not talking nonsense. Produce your credentials.” + +Krag stared at him all the time he was speaking, his face gradually +resuming its jesting expression. + +“Oh, you will get your twenty-four hours, and perhaps longer, but not +much longer. You’re an audacious fellow, Maskull, but this trip will +prove a little strenuous, even for you.... And so, like the unbelievers +of old, you want a sign from heaven?” + +Maskull frowned. “But the whole thing is ridiculous. Our brains are +overexcited by what took place in there. Let us go home, and sleep it +off.” + +Krag detained him with one hand, while groping in his breast pocket with +the other. He presently fished out what resembled a small folding lens. +The diameter of the glass did not exceed two inches. + +“First take a peep at Arcturus through this, Maskull. It may serve as a +provisional sign. It’s the best I can do, unfortunately. I am not a +travelling magician.... Be very careful not to drop it. It’s somewhat +heavy.” + +Maskull took the lens in his hand, struggled with it for a minute, and +then looked at Krag in amazement. The little object weighed at least +twenty pounds, though it was not much bigger than a crown piece. + +“What stuff can this be, Krag?” + +“Look through it, my good friend. That’s what I gave it to you for.” + +Maskull held it up with difficulty, directed it toward the gleaming +Arcturus, and snatched as long and as steady a glance at the star as the +muscles of his arm would permit. What he saw was this. The star, which +to the naked eye appeared as a single yellow point of light, now became +clearly split into two bright but minute suns, the larger of which was +still yellow, while its smaller companion was a beautiful blue. But this +was not all. Apparently circulating around the yellow sun was a +comparatively small and hardly distinguishable satellite, which seemed +to shine, not by its own, but by reflected light.... Maskull lowered and +raised his arm repeatedly. The same spectacle revealed itself again and +again, but he was able to see nothing else. Then he passed back the lens +to Krag, without a word, and stood chewing his underlip. + +“You take a glimpse too,” scraped Krag, proffering the glass to +Nightspore. + +Nightspore turned his back and began to pace up and down. Krag laughed +sardonically, and returned the lens to his pocket. “Well, Maskull, are +you satisfied?” + +“Arcturus, then, is a double sun. And is that third point the planet +Tormance?” + +“Our future home, Maskull.” + +Maskull continued to ponder. “You inquire if I am satisfied. I don’t +know, Krag. It’s miraculous, and that’s all I can say about it.... But +I’m satisfied of one thing. There must be very wonderful astronomers at +Starkness and if you invite me to your observatory I will surely come.” + +“I do invite you. We set off from there.” + +“And you, Nightspore?” demanded Maskull. + +“The journey has to be made,” answered his friend in indistinct tones, +“though I don’t see what will come of it.” + +Krag shot a penetrating glance at him. “More remarkable adventures than +this would need to be arranged before we could excite Nightspore.” + +“Yet he is coming.” + +“But not con amore. He is coming merely to bear you company.” + +Maskull again sought the heavy, sombre star, gleaming in solitary might, +in the south-eastern heavens, and, as he gazed, his heart swelled with +grand and painful longings, for which, however, he was unable to account +to his own intellect. He felt that his destiny was in some way bound up +with this gigantic, far-distant sun. But still he did not dare to admit +to himself Krag’s seriousness. + +He heard his parting remarks in deep abstraction, and only after the +lapse of several minutes, when, alone with Nightspore, did he realise +that they referred to such mundane matters as travelling routes and +times of trains. + +“Does Krag travel north with us, Nightspore? I didn’t catch that.” + +“No. We go on first, and he joins us at Starkness on the evening of the +day after tomorrow.” + +Maskull remained thoughtful. “What am I to think of that man?” + +“For your information,” replied Nightspore wearily, “I have never known +him to lie.” + + + +Chapter 3. STARKNESS + +A couple of days later, at two o’clock in the afternoon, Maskull and +Nightspore arrived at Starkness Observatory, having covered the seven +miles from Haillar Station on foot. The road, very wild and lonely, ran +for the greater part of the way near the edge of rather lofty cliffs, +within sight of the North Sea. The sun shone, but a brisk east wind was +blowing and the air was salt and cold. The dark green waves were flecked +with white. Throughout the walk, they were accompanied by the plaintive, +beautiful crying of the gulls. + +The observatory presented itself to their eyes as a self-contained +little community, without neighbours, and perched on the extreme end of +the land. There were three buildings: a small, stone-built dwelling +house, a low workshop, and, about two hundred yards farther north, a +square tower of granite masonry, seventy feet in height. + +The house and the shop were separated by an open yard, littered with +waste. A single stone wall surrounded both, except on the side facing +the sea, where the house itself formed a continuation of the cliff. No +one appeared. The windows were all closed, and Maskull could have sworn +that the whole establishment was shut up and deserted. + +He passed through the open gate, followed by Nightspore, and knocked +vigorously at the front door. The knocker was thick with dust and had +obviously not been used for a long time. He put his ear to the door, but +could hear no movements inside the house. He then tried the handle; the +door was looked. + +They walked around the house, looking for another entrance, but there +was only the one door. + +“This isn’t promising,” growled Maskull. “There’s no one here..... Now +you try the shed, while I go over to that tower.” + +Nightspore, who had not spoken half a dozen words since leaving the +train, complied in silence, and started off across the yard. Maskull +passed out of the gate again. When he arrived at the foot of the tower, +which stood some way back from the cliff, he found the door heavily +padlocked. Gazing up, he saw six windows, one above the other at equal +distances, all on the east face—that is, overlooking the sea. Realising +that no satisfaction was to be gained here, he came away again, still +more irritated than before. When he rejoined his friend, Nightspore +reported that the workshop was also locked. + +“Did we, or did we not, receive an invitation?” demanded Maskull +energetically. + +“The house is empty,” replied Nightspore, biting his nails. “Better +break a window.” + +“I certainly don’t mean to camp out till Krag condescends to come.” + +He picked up an old iron bolt from the yard and, retreating to a safe +distance, hurled it against a sash window on the ground floor. The lower +pane was completely shattered. Carefully avoiding the broken glass, +Maskull thrust his hand through the aperture and pushed back the frame +fastening. A minute later they had climbed through and were standing +inside the house. + +The room, which was a kitchen, was in an indescribably filthy and +neglected condition. The furniture scarcely held together, broken +utensils and rubbish lay on the floor instead of on the dust heap, +everything was covered with a deep deposit of dust. The atmosphere was +so foul that Maskull judged that no fresh air had passed into the room +for several months. Insects were crawling on the walls. + +They went into the other rooms on the lower floor—a scullery, a barely +furnished dining room, and a storing place for lumber. The same dirt, +mustiness, and neglect met their eyes. At least half a year must have +elapsed since these rooms were last touched, or even entered. + +“Does your faith in Krag still hold?” asked Maskull. “I confess mine is +at vanishing point. If this affair isn’t one big practical joke, it has +every promise of being one. Krag never lived here in his life.” + +“Come upstairs first,” said Nightspore. + +The upstairs rooms proved to consist of a library and three bedrooms. +All the windows were tightly closed, and the air was insufferable. The +beds had been slept in, evidently a long time ago, and had never been +made since. The tumbled, discoloured bed linen actually preserved the +impressions of the sleepers. There was no doubt that these impressions +were ancient, for all sorts of floating dirt had accumulated on the +sheets and coverlets. + +“Who could have slept here, do you think?” interrogated Maskull. “The +observatory staff?” + +“More likely travellers like ourselves. They left suddenly.” + +Maskull flung the windows wide open in every room he came to, and held +his breath until he had done so. Two of the bedrooms faced the sea; the +third, the library, the upward-sloping moorland. This library was now +the only room left unvisited, and unless they discovered signs of recent +occupation here Maskull made up his mind to regard the whole business as +a gigantic hoax. + +But the library, like all the other rooms, was foul with stale air and +dust-laden. Maskull, having flung the window up and down, fell heavily +into an armchair and looked disgustedly at his friend. + +“Now what is your opinion of Krag?” + +Nightspore sat on the edge of the table which stood before the window. +“He may still have left a message for us.” + +“What message? Why? Do you mean in this room?—I see no message.” + +Nightspore’s eyes wandered about the room, finally seeming to linger +upon a glass-fronted wall cupboard, which contained a few old bottles on +one of the shelves and nothing else. Maskull glanced at him and at the +cupboard. Then, without a word, he got up to examine the bottles. + +There were four altogether, one of which was larger than the rest. The +smaller ones were about eight inches long. All were torpedo-shaped, but +had flattened bottoms, which enabled them to stand upright. Two of the +smaller ones were empty and unstoppered, the others contained a +colourless liquid, and possessed queer-looking, nozzle-like stoppers +that were connected by a thin metal rod with a catch halfway down the +side of the bottle. They were labelled, but the labels were yellow with +age and the writing was nearly undecipherable. Maskull carried the +filled bottles with him to the table in front of the window, in order to +get better light. Nightspore moved away to make room for him. + +He now made out on the larger bottle the words “Solar Back Rays”; and on +the other one, after some doubt, he thought that he could distinguish +something like “Arcturian Back Rays.” + +He looked up, to stare curiously at his friend. “Have you been here +before, Nightspore?” + +“I guessed Krag would leave a message.” + +“Well, I don’t know—it may be a message, but it means nothing to us, or +at all events to me. What are ‘back rays’?” + +“Light that goes back to its source,” muttered Nightspore. + +“And what kind of light would that be?” + +Nightspore seemed unwilling to answer, but, finding Maskull’s eyes still +fixed on him, he brought out: “Unless light pulled, as well as pushed, +how would flowers contrive to twist their heads around after the sun?” + +“I don’t know. But the point is, what are these bottles for?” + +While he was still talking, with his hand on the smaller bottle, the +other, which was lying on its side, accidentally rolled over in such a +manner that the metal caught against the table. He made a movement to +stop it, his hand was actually descending, when—the bottle suddenly +disappeared before his eyes. It had not rolled off the table, but had +really vanished—it was nowhere at all. + +Maskull stared at the table. After a minute he raised his brows, and +turned to Nightspore with a smile. “The message grows more intricate.” + +Nightspore looked bored. “The valve became unfastened. The contents have +escaped through the open window toward the sun, carrying the bottle with +them. But the bottle will be burned up by the earth’s atmosphere, and +the contents will dissipate, and will not reach the sun.” + +Maskull listened attentively, and his smile faded. “Does anything +prevent us from experimenting with this other bottle?” + +“Replace it in the cupboard,” said Nightspore. “Arcturus is still below +the horizon, and you would succeed only in wrecking the house.” + +Maskull remained standing before the window, pensively gazing out at the +sunlit moors. + +“Krag treats me like a child,” he remarked presently. “And perhaps I +really am a child.... My cynicism must seem most amusing to Krag. But +why does he leave me to find out all this by myself—for I don’t include +you, Nightspore.... But what time will Krag be here?” + +“Not before dark, I expect,” his friend replied. + + + +Chapter 4. THE VOICE + +It was by this time past three o’clock. Feeling hungry, for they had +eaten nothing since early morning, Maskull went downstairs to forage, +but without much hope of finding anything in the shape of food. In a +safe in the kitchen he discovered a bag of mouldy oatmeal, which was +untouchable, a quantity of quite good tea in an airtight caddy, and an +unopened can of ox tongue. Best of all, in the dining-room cupboard he +came across an uncorked bottle of first-class Scotch whisky. He at once +made preparations for a scratch meal. + +A pump in the yard ran clear after a good deal of hard working at it, +and he washed out and filled the antique kettle. For firewood, one of +the kitchen chairs was broken up with a chopper. The light, dusty wood +made a good blaze in the grate, the kettle was boiled, and cups were +procured and washed. Ten minutes later the friends were dining in the +library. + +Nightspore ate and drank little, but Maskull sat down with good +appetite. There being no milk, whisky took the place of it; the nearly +black tea was mixed with an equal quantity of the spirit. Of this +concoction Maskull drank cup after cup, and long after the tongue had +disappeared he was still imbibing. + +Nightspore looked at him queerly. “Do you intend to finish the bottle +before Krag comes?” + +“Krag won’t want any, and one must do something. I feel restless.” + +“Let us take a look at the country.” + +The cup, which was on its way to Maskull’s lips, remained poised in the +air. “Have you anything in view, Nightspore?” + +“Let us walk out to the Gap of Sorgie.” + +“What’s that?” + +“A showplace,” answered Nightspore, biting his lip. + +Maskull finished off the cup, and rose to his feet. “Walking is better +than soaking at any time, and especially on a day like this.... How far +is it?” + +“Three or four miles each way.” + +“You probably mean something,” said Maskull, “for I’m beginning to +regard you as a second Krag. But if so, so much the better. I am growing +nervous, and need incidents.” + +They left the house by the door, which they left ajar, and immediately +found themselves again on the moorland road that had brought them from +Haillar. This time they continued along it, past the tower. + +Maskull, as they went by, regarded the erection with puzzled interest. +“What is that tower, Nightspore?” + +“We sail from the platform on the top.” + +“Tonight?”—throwing him a quick look. + +“Yes.” + +Maskull smiled, but his eyes were grave. “Then we are looking at the +gateway of Arcturus, and Krag is now travelling north to unlock it.” + +“You no longer think it impossible, I fancy,” mumbled Nightspore. + +After a mile or two, the road parted from the sea coast and swerved +sharply inland, across the hills. With Nightspore as guide, they left it +and took to the grass. A faint sheep path marked the way along the cliff +edge for some distance, but at the end of another mile it vanished. The +two men then had some rough walking up and down hillsides and across +deep gullies. The sun disappeared behind the hills, and twilight +imperceptibly came on. They soon reached a spot where further progress +appeared impossible. The buttress of a mountain descended at a steep +angle to the very edge of the cliff, forming an impassable slope of +slippery grass. Maskull halted, stroked his beard, and wondered what the +next step was to be. + +“There’s a little scrambling here,” said Nightspore. “We are both used +to climbing, and there is not much in it.” + +He indicated a narrow ledge, winding along the face of the precipice a +few yards beneath where they were standing. It averaged from fifteen to +thirty inches in width. Without waiting for Maskull’s consent to the +undertaking, he instantly swung himself down and started walking along +this ledge at a rapid pace. Maskull, seeing that there was no help for +it, followed him. The shelf did not extend for above a quarter of a +mile, but its passage was somewhat unnerving; there was a sheer drop to +the sea, four hundred feet below. In a few places they had to sidle +along without placing one foot before another. The sound of the breakers +came up to them in a low, threatening roar. + +Upon rounding a corner, the ledge broadened out into a fair-sized +platform of rock and came to a sudden end. A narrow inlet of the sea +separated them from the continuation of the cliffs beyond. + +“As we can’t get any further,” said Maskull, “I presume this is your Gap +of Sorgie?” + +“Yes,” answered his friend, first dropping on his knees and then lying +at full length, face downward. He drew his head and shoulders over the +edge and began to stare straight down at the water. + +“What is there interesting down there, Nightspore?” + +Receiving no reply, however, he followed his friend’s example, and the +next minute was looking for himself. Nothing was to be seen; the gloom +had deepened, and the sea was nearly invisible. But, while he was +ineffectually gazing, he heard what sounded like the beating of a drum +on the narrow strip of shore below. It was very faint, but quite +distinct. The beats were in four-four time, with the third beat slightly +accented. He now continued to hear the noise all the time he was lying +there. The beats were in no way drowned by the far louder sound of the +surf, but seemed somehow to belong to a different world.... + +When they were on their feet again, he questioned Nightspore. “We came +here solely to hear that?” + +Nightspore cast one of his odd looks at him. “It’s called locally ‘The +Drum Taps of Sorgie.’ You will not hear that name again, but perhaps you +will hear the sound again.” + +“And if I do, what will it imply?” demanded Maskull in amazement. + +“It bears its own message. Only try always to hear it more and more +distinctly.... Now it’s growing dark, and we must get back.” + +Maskull pulled out his watch automatically, and looked at the time. It +was past six.... But he was thinking of Nightspore’s words, and not of +the time. + +***** + + +Night had already fallen by the time they regained the tower. The black +sky was glorious with liquid stars. Arcturus was a little way above the +sea, directly opposite them, in the east. As they were passing the base +of the tower, Maskull observed with a sudden shock that the gate was +open. He caught hold of Nightspore’s arm violently. “Look! Krag is +back.” + +“Yes, we must make haste to the house.” + +“And why not the tower? He’s probably in there, since the gate is open. +I’m going up to look.” + +Nightspore grunted, but made no opposition. + +All was pitch-black inside the gate. Maskull struck a match, and the +flickering light disclosed the lower end of a circular flight of stone +steps. “Are you coming up?” he asked. + +“No, I’ll wait here.” + +Maskull immediately began the ascent. Hardly had he mounted half a dozen +steps, however, before he was compelled to pause, to gain breath. He +seemed to be carrying upstairs not one Maskull, but three. As he +proceeded, the sensation of crushing weight, so far from diminishing, +grew worse and worse. It was nearly physically impossible to go on; his +lungs could not take in enough oxygen, while his heart thumped like a +ship’s engine. Sweat coursed down his face. At the twentieth step he +completed the first revolution of the tower and came face to face with +the first window, which was set in a high embrasure. + +Realising that he could go no higher, he struck another match, and +climbed into the embrasure, in order that he might at all events see +something from the tower. The flame died, and he stared through the +window at the stars. Then, to his astonishment, he discovered that it +was not a window at all but a lens.... The sky was not a wide expanse of +space containing a multitude of stars, but a blurred darkness, focused +only in one part, where two very bright stars, like small moons in size, +appeared in close conjunction; and near them a more minute planetary +object, as brilliant as Venus and with an observable disk. One of the +suns shone with a glaring white light; the other was a weird and awful +blue. Their light, though almost solar in intensity, did not illuminate +the interior of the tower. + +Maskull knew at once that the system of spheres at which he was gazing +was what is known to astronomy as the star Arcturus.... He had seen the +sight before, through Krag’s glass, but then the scale had been smaller, +the colors of the twin suns had not appeared in their naked reality.... +These colors seemed to him most marvellous, as if, in seeing them +through earth eyes, he was not seeing them correctly.... But it was at +Tormance that he stared the longest and the most earnestly. On that +mysterious and terrible earth, countless millions of miles distant, it +had been promised him that he would set foot, even though he might leave +his bones there. The strange creatures that he was to behold and touch +were already living, at this very moment. + +A low, sighing whisper sounded in his ear, from not more than a yard +away. “Don’t you understand, Maskull, that you are only an instrument, +to be used and then broken? Nightspore is asleep now, but when he wakes +you must die. You will go, but he will return.” + +Maskull hastily struck another match, with trembling fingers. No one was +in sight, and all was quiet as the tomb. + +The voice did not sound again. After waiting a few minutes, he +redescended to the foot of the tower. On gaining the open air, his +sensation of weight was instantly removed, but he continued panting and +palpitating, like a man who has lifted a far too heavy load. + +Nightspore’s dark form came forward. “Was Krag there?” + +“If he was, I didn’t see him. But I heard someone speak.” + +“Was it Krag?” + +“It was not Krag—but a voice warned me against you.” + +“Yes, you will hear these voices too,” said Nightspore enigmatically. + + + +Chapter 5. THE NIGHT OF DEPARTURE + +When they returned to the house, the windows were all in darkness and +the door was ajar, just as they had left it; Krag presumably was not +there. Maskull went all over the house, striking matches in every +room—at the end of the examination he was ready to swear that the man +they were expecting had not even stuck his nose inside the premises. +Groping their way into the library, they sat down in the total darkness +to wait, for nothing else remained to be done. Maskull lit his pipe, and +began to drink the remainder of the whisky. Through the open window +sounded in their ears the trainlike grinding of the sea at the foot of +the cliffs. + +“Krag must be in the tower after all,” remarked Maskull, breaking the +silence. + +“Yes, he is getting ready.” + +“I hope he doesn’t expect us to join him there. It was beyond my +powers—but why, heaven knows. The stairs must have a magnetic pull of +some sort.” + +“It is Tormantic gravity,” muttered Nightspore. + +“I understand you—or, rather, I don’t—but it doesn’t matter.” + +He went on smoking in silence, occasionally taking a mouthful of the +neat liquor. “Who is Surtur?” he demanded abruptly. + +“We others are gropers and bunglers, but he is a master.” + +Maskull digested this. “I fancy you are right, for though I know nothing +about him his mere name has an exciting effect on me.... Are you +personally acquainted with him?” + +“I must be... I forget...” replied Nightspore in a choking voice. + +Maskull looked up, surprised, but could make nothing out in the +blackness of the room. + +“Do you know so many extraordinary men that you can forget some of +them?... Perhaps you can tell me this... will we meet him, where we are +going?” + +“You will meet death, Maskull.... Ask me no more questions—I can’t +answer them.” + +“Then let us go on waiting for Krag,” said Maskull coldly. + +Ten minutes later the front door slammed, and a light, quick footstep +was heard running up the stairs. Maskull got up, with a beating heart. + +Krag appeared on the threshold of the door, bearing in his hand a feebly +glimmering lantern. A hat was on his head, and he looked stern and +forbidding. After scrutinising the two friends for a moment or so, he +strode into the room and thrust the lantern on the table. Its light +hardly served to illuminate the walls. + +“You have got here, then, Maskull?” + +“So it seems—but I shan’t thank you for your hospitality, for it has +been conspicuous by its absence.” + +Krag ignored the remark. “Are you ready to start?” + +“By all means—when you are. It is not so entertaining here.” + +Krag surveyed him critically. “I heard you stumbling about in the tower. +You couldn’t get up, it seems.” + +“It looks like an obstacle, for Nightspore informs me that the start +takes place from the top.” + +“But your other doubts are all removed?” + +“So far, Krag, that I now possess an open mind. I am quite willing to +see what you can do.” + +“Nothing more is asked.... But this tower business. You know that until +you are able to climb to the top you are unfit to stand the gravitation +of Tormance?” + +“Then I repeat, it’s an awkward obstacle, for I certainly can’t get up.” + +Krag hunted about in his pockets, and at length produced a clasp knife. + +“Remove your coat, and roll up your shirt sleeve,” he directed. + +“Do you propose to make an incision with that?” + +“Yes, and don’t start difficulties, because the effect is certain, but +you can’t possibly understand it beforehand.” + +“Still, a cut with a pocket-knife—” began Maskull, laughing. + +“It will answer, Maskull,” interrupted Nightspore. + +“Then bare your arm too, you aristocrat of the universe,” said Krag. +“Let us see what your blood is made of.” + +Nightspore obeyed. + +Krag pulled out the big blade of the knife, and made a careless and +almost savage slash at Maskull’s upper arm. The wound was deep, and +blood flowed freely. + +“Do I bind it up?” asked Maskull, scowling with pain. + +Krag spat on the wound. “Pull your shirt down, it won’t bleed any more.” + +He then turned his attention to Nightspore, who endured his operation +with grim indifference. Krag threw the knife on the floor. + +An awful agony, emanating from the wound, started to run through +Maskull’s body, and he began to doubt whether he would not have to +faint, but it subsided almost immediately, and then he felt nothing but +a gnawing ache in the injured arm, just strong enough to make life one +long discomfort. + +“That’s finished,” said Krag. “Now you can follow me.” + +Picking up the lantern, he walked toward the door. The others hastened +after him, to take advantage of the light, and a moment later their +footsteps, clattering down the uncarpeted stairs, resounded through the +deserted house. Krag waited till they were out, and then banged the +front door after them with such violence that the windows shook. + +While they were walking swiftly across to the tower, Maskull caught his +arm. “I heard a voice up those stairs.” + +“What did it say?” + +“That I am to go, but Nightspore is to return.” + +Krag smiled. “The journey is getting notorious,” he remarked, after a +pause. “There must be ill-wishers about.... Well, do you want to +return?” + +“I don’t know what I want. But I thought the thing was curious enough to +be mentioned.” + +“It is not a bad thing to hear voices,” said Krag, “but you mustn’t for +a minute imagine that all is wise that comes to you out of the night +world.” + +When they had arrived at the open gateway of the tower, he immediately +set foot on the bottom step of the spiral staircase and ran nimbly up, +bearing the lantern. Maskull followed him with some trepidation, in view +of his previous painful experience on these stairs, but when, after the +first half-dozen steps, he discovered that he was still breathing +freely, his dread changed to relief and astonishment, and he could have +chattered like a girl. + +At the lowest window Krag went straight ahead without stopping, but +Maskull clambered into the embrasure, in order to renew his acquaintance +with the miraculous spectacle of the Arcturian group. The lens had lost +its magic property. It had become a common sheet of glass, through which +the ordinary sky field appeared. + +The climb continued, and at the second and third windows he again +mounted and stared out, but still the common sights presented +themselves. After that, he gave up and looked through no more windows. + +Krag and Nightspore meanwhile had gone on ahead with the light, so that +he had to complete the ascent in darkness. When he was near the top, he +saw yellow light shining through the crack of a half-opened door. His +companions were standing just inside a small room, shut off from the +staircase by rough wooden planking; it was rudely furnished and +contained nothing of astronomical interest. The lantern was resting on a +table. + +Maskull walked in and looked around him with curiosity. “Are we at the +top?” + +“Except for the platform over our heads,” replied Krag. + +“Why didn’t that lowest window magnify, as it did earlier in the +evening?” + +“Oh, you missed your opportunity,” said Krag, grinning. “If you had +finished your climb then, you would have seen heart-expanding sights. +From the fifth window, for example, you would have seen Tormance like a +continent in relief; from the sixth you would have seen it like a +landscape.... But now there’s no need.” + +“Why not—and what has need got to do with it?” + +“Things are changed, my friend, since that wound of yours. For the same +reason that you have now been able to mount the stairs, there was no +necessity to stop and gape at illusions en route.” + +“Very well,” said Maskull, not quite understanding what he meant. “But +is this Surtur’s den?” + +“He has spent time here.” + +“I wish you would describe this mysterious individual, Krag. We may not +get another chance.” + +“What I said about the windows also applies to Surtur. There’s no need +to waste time over visualising him, because you are immediately going on +to the reality.” + +“Then let us go.” He pressed his eyeballs wearily. + +“Do we strip?” asked Nightspore. + +“Naturally,” answered Krag, and he began to tear off his clothes with +slow, uncouth movements. + +“Why?” demanded Maskull, following, however, the example of the other +two men. + +Krag thumped his vast chest, which was covered with thick hairs, like an +ape’s. “Who knows what the Tormance fashions are like? We may sprout +limbs—I don’t say we shall.” + +“A-ha!” exclaimed Maskull, pausing in the middle of his undressing. + +Krag smote him on the back. “New pleasure organs possible, Maskull. You +like that?” + +The three men stood as nature made them. Maskull’s spirits rose fast, as +the moment of departure drew near. + +“A farewell drink to success!” cried Krag, seizing a bottle and breaking +its head off between his fingers. There were no glasses, but he poured +the amber-coloured wine into some cracked cups. + +Perceiving that the others drank, Maskull tossed off his cupful. It was +as if he had swallowed a draught of liquid electricity.... Krag dropped +onto the floor and rolled around on his back, kicking his legs in the +air. He tried to drag Maskull down on top of him, and a little horseplay +went on between the two. Nightspore took no part in it, but walked to +and fro, like a hungry caged animal. + +Suddenly, from out-of-doors, there came a single prolonged, piercing +wail, such as a banshee might be imagined to utter. It ceased abruptly, +and was not repeated. + +“What’s that?” called out Maskull, disengaging himself impatiently from +Krag. + +Krag rocked with laughter. “A Scottish spirit trying to reproduce the +bagpipes of its earth life—in honour of our departure.” + +Nightspore turned to Krag. “Maskull will sleep throughout the journey?” + +“And you too, if you wish, my altruistic friend. I am pilot, and you +passengers can amuse yourselves as you please.” + +“Are we off at last?” asked Maskull. + +“Yes, you are about to cross your Rubicon, Maskull. But what a +Rubicon!... Do you know that it takes light a hundred years or so to +arrive here from Arcturus? Yet we shall do it in nineteen hours.” + +“Then you assert that Surtur is already there?” + +“Surtur is where he is. He is a great traveller.” + +“Won’t I see him?” + +Krag went up to him and looked him in the eyes. “Don’t forget that you +have asked for it, and wanted it. Few people in Tormance will know more +about him than you do, but your memory will be your worst friend.” + +***** + +He led the way up a short iron ladder, mounting through a trap to the +flat roof above. When they were up, he switched on a small electric +torch. + +Maskull beheld with awe the torpedo of crystal that was to convey them +through the whole breadth of visible space. It was forty feet long, +eight wide, and eight high; the tank containing the Arcturian back rays +was in front, the car behind. The nose of the torpedo was directed +toward the south-eastern sky. The whole machine rested upon a flat +platform, raised about four feet above the level of the roof, so as to +encounter no obstruction on starting its flight. + +Krag flashed the light on to the door of the car, to enable them to +enter. Before doing so, Maskull gazed sternly once again at the +gigantic, far-distant star, which was to be their sun from now onward. +He frowned, shivered slightly, and got in beside Nightspore. Krag +clambered past them onto his pilot’s seat. He threw the flashlight +through the open door, which was then carefully closed, fastened, and +screwed up. + +He pulled the starting lever. The torpedo glided gently from its +platform, and passed rather slowly away from the tower, seaward. Its +speed increased sensibly, though not excessively, until the approximate +limits of the earth’s atmosphere were reached. Krag then released the +speed valve, and the car sped on its way with a velocity more nearly +approaching that of thought than of light. + +Maskull had no opportunity of examining through the crystal walls the +rapidly changing panorama of the heavens. An extreme drowsiness +oppressed him. He opened his eyes violently a dozen times, but on the +thirteenth attempt he failed. From that time forward he slept heavily. + +The bored, hungry expression never left Nightspore’s face. The +alterations in the aspect of the sky seemed to possess not the least +interest for him. + +Krag sat with his hand on the lever, watching with savage intentness his +phosphorescent charts and gauges. + + + +Chapter 6. JOIWIND + +IT WAS DENSE NIGHT when Maskull awoke from his profound sleep. A wind +was blowing against him, gentle but wall-like, such as he had never +experienced on earth. He remained sprawling on the ground, as he was +unable to lift his body because of its intense weight. A numbing pain, +which he could not identify with any region of his frame, acted from now +onward as a lower, sympathetic note to all his other sensations. It +gnawed away at him continuously; sometimes it embittered and irritated +him, at other times he forgot it. + +He felt something hard on his forehead. Putting his hand up, he +discovered there a fleshy protuberance the size of a small plum, having +a cavity in the middle, of which he could not feel the bottom. Then he +also became aware of a large knob on each side of his neck, an inch +below the ear. + +From the region of his heart, a tentacle had budded. It was as long as +his arm, but thin, like whipcord, and soft and flexible. + +As soon as he thoroughly realised the significance of these new organs, +his heart began to pump. Whatever might, or might not, be their use, +they proved one thing—that he was in a new world. + +One part of the sky began to get lighter than the rest. Maskull cried +out to his companions, but received no response. This frightened him. He +went on shouting out, at irregular intervals—equally alarmed at the +silence and at the sound of his own voice. Finally, as no answering hail +came, he thought it wiser not to make too much noise, and after that he +lay quiet, waiting in cold blood for what might happen. + +In a short while he perceived dim shadows around him, but these were not +his friends. + +A pale, milky vapour over the ground began to succeed the black night, +while in the upper sky rosy tints appeared. On earth, one would have +said that day was breaking. The brightness went on imperceptibly +increasing for a very long time. + +Maskull then discovered that he was lying on sand. The colour of the +sand was scarlet. The obscure shadows he had seen were bushes, with +black stems and purple leaves. So far, nothing else was visible. + +The day surged up. It was too misty for direct sunshine, but before long +the brilliance of the light was already greater than that of the midday +sun on earth. The heat, too, was intense, but Maskull welcomed it—it +relieved his pain and diminished his sense of crushing weight. The wind +had dropped with the rising of the sun. + +He now tried to get onto his feet, but succeeded only in kneeling. He +was unable to see far. The mists had no more than partially dissolved, +and all that he could distinguish was a narrow circle of red sand dotted +with ten or twenty bushes. + +He felt a soft, cool touch on the back of his neck. He started forward +in nervous fright and, in doing so, tumbled over onto the sand. Looking +up over his shoulder quickly, he was astounded to see a woman standing +beside him. + +She was clothed in a single flowing, pale green garment, rather +classically draped. According to earth standards she was not beautiful, +for, although her face was otherwise human, she was endowed—or +afflicted—with the additional disfiguring organs that Maskull had +discovered in himself. She also possessed the heart tentacle. But when +he sat up, and their eyes met and remained in sympathetic contact, he +seemed to see right into a soul that was the home of love, warmth, +kindness, tenderness, and intimacy. Such was the noble familiarity of +that gaze, that he thought he knew her. After that, he recognised all +the loveliness of her person. She was tall and slight. All her movements +were as graceful as music. Her skin was not of a dead, opaque colour, +like that of an earth beauty, but was opalescent; its hue was +continually changing, with every thought and emotion, but none of these +tints was vivid—all were delicate, half-toned, and poetic. She had very +long, loosely plaited, flaxen hair. The new organs, as soon as Maskull +had familiarised himself with them, imparted something to her face that +was unique and striking. He could not quite define it to himself, but +subtlety and inwardness seemed added. The organs did not contradict the +love of her eyes or the angelic purity of her features, but nevertheless +sounded a deeper note—a note that saved her from mere girlishness. + +Her gaze was so friendly and unembarrassed that Maskull felt scarcely +any humiliation at sitting at her feet, naked and helpless. She realised +his plight, and put into his hands a garment that she had been carrying +over her arm. It was similar to the one she was wearing, but of a +darker, more masculine colour. + +“Do you think you can put it on by yourself?” + +He was distinctly conscious of these words, yet her voice had not +sounded. + +He forced himself up to his feet, and she helped him to master the +complications of the drapery. + +“Poor man—how you are suffering!” she said, in the same inaudible +language. This time he discovered that the sense of what she said was +received by his brain through the organ on his forehead. + +“Where am I? Is this Tormance?” he asked. As he spoke, he staggered. + +She caught him, and helped him to sit down. “Yes. You are with friends.” + +Then she regarded him with a smile, and began speaking aloud, in +English. Her voice somehow reminded him of an April day, it was so +fresh, nervous, and girlish. “I can now understand your language. It was +strange at first. In the future I’ll speak to you with my mouth.” + +“This is extraordinary! What is this organ?” he asked, touching his +forehead. + +“It is named the ‘breve.’ By means of it we read one another’s thoughts. +Still, speech is better, for then the heart can be read too.” + +He smiled. “They say that speech is given us to deceive others.” + +“One can deceive with thought, too. But I’m thinking of the best, not +the worst.” + +“Have you seen my friends?” + +She scrutinised him quietly, before answering. “Did you not come alone?” + +“I came with two other men, in a machine. I must have lost consciousness +on arrival, and I haven’t seen them since.” + +“That’s very strange! No, I haven’t seen them. They can’t be here, or we +would have known it. My husband and I—” + +“What is your name, and your husband’s name?” + +“Mine is Joiwind—my husband’s is Panawe. We live a very long way from +here; still, it came to us both last night that you were lying here +insensible. We almost quarrelled about which of us should come to you, +but in the end I won.” Here she laughed. “I won, because I am the +stronger-hearted of the two; he is the purer in perception.” + +“Thanks, Joiwind!” said Maskull simply. + +The colors chased each other rapidly beneath her skin. “Oh, why do you +say that? What pleasure is greater than loving-kindness? I rejoiced at +the opportunity.... But now we must exchange blood.” + +“What is this?” he demanded, rather puzzled. + +“It must be so. Your blood is far too thick and heavy for our world. +Until you have an infusion of mine, you will never get up.” + +Maskull flushed. “I feel like a complete ignoramus here.... Won’t it +hurt you?” + +“If your blood pains you, I suppose it will pain me. But we will share +the pain.” + +“This is a new kind of hospitality to me,” he muttered. + +“Wouldn’t you do the same for me?” asked Joiwind, half smiling, half +agitated. + +“I can’t answer for any of my actions in this world. I scarcely know +where I am.... Why, yes—of course I would, Joiwind.” + +While they were talking it had become full day. The mists had rolled +away from the ground, and only the upper atmosphere remained fog- +charged. The desert of scarlet sand stretched in all directions, except +one, where there was a sort of little oasis—some low hills, clothed +sparsely with little purple trees from base to summit. It was about a +quarter of a mile distant. + +Joiwind had brought with her a small flint knife. Without any trace of +nervousness, she made a careful, deep incision on her upper arm. Maskull +expostulated. + +“Really, this part of it is nothing,” she said, laughing. “And if it +were—a sacrifice that is no sacrifice—what merit is there in that?... +Come now—your arm!” + +The blood was streaming down her arm. It was not red blood, but a milky, +opalescent fluid. + +“Not that one!” said Maskull, shrinking. “I have already been cut +there.” He submitted the other, and his blood poured forth. + +Joiwind delicately and skilfully placed the mouths of the two wounds +together, and then kept her arm pressed tightly against Maskull’s for a +long time. He felt a stream of pleasure entering his body through the +incision. His old lightness and vigour began to return to him. After +about five minutes a duel of kindness started between them; he wanted to +remove his arm, and she to continue. At last he had his way, but it was +none too soon—she stood there pale and dispirited. + +She looked at him with a more serious expression than before, as if +strange depths had opened up before her eyes. + +“What is your name?” + +“Maskull.” + +“Where have you come from, with this awful blood?” + +“From a world called Earth.... The blood is clearly unsuitable for this +world, Joiwind, but after all, that was only to be expected. I am sorry +I let you have your way.” + +“Oh, don’t say that! There was nothing else to be done. We must all help +one another. Yet, somehow—forgive me—I feel polluted.” + +“And well you may, for it’s a fearful thing for a girl to accept in her +own veins the blood of a strange man from a strange planet. If I had not +been so dazed and weak I would never have allowed it.” + +“But I would have insisted. Are we not all brothers and sisters? Why did +you come here, Maskull?” + +He was conscious of a slight degree of embarrassment. “Will you think it +foolish if I say I hardly know?—I came with those two men. Perhaps I was +attracted by curiosity, or perhaps it was the love of adventure.” + +“Perhaps,” said Joiwind. “I wonder... These friends of yours must be +terrible men. Why did they come?” + +“That I can tell you. They came to follow Surtur.” + +Her face grew troubled. “I don’t understand it. One of them at least +must be a bad man, and yet if he is following Surtur—or Shaping, as he +is called here—he can’t be really bad.” + +“What do you know of Surtur?” asked Maskull in astonishment. + +Joiwind remained silent for a time, studying his face. His brain moved +restlessly, as though it were being probed from outside. “I see.... and +yet I don’t see,” she said at last. “It is very difficult.... Your God +is a dreadful Being—bodyless, unfriendly, invisible. Here we don’t +worship a God like that. Tell me, has any man set eyes on your God?” + +“What does all this mean, Joiwind? Why speak of God?” + +“I want to know.” + +“In ancient times, when the earth was young and grand, a few holy men +are reputed to have walked and spoken with God, but those days are +past.” + +“Our world is still young,” said Joiwind. “Shaping goes among us and +converses with us. He is real and active—a friend and lover. Shaping +made us, and he loves his work.” + +“Have you met him?” demanded Maskull, hardly believing his ears. + +“No. I have done nothing to deserve it yet. Some day I may have an +opportunity to sacrifice myself, and then I may be rewarded by meeting +and talking with Shaping.” + +“I have certainly come to another world. But why do you say he is the +same as Surtur?” + +“Yes, he is the same. We women call him Shaping, and so do most men, but +a few name him Surtur.” + +Maskull bit his nail. “Have you ever heard of Crystalman?” + +“That is Shaping once again. You see, he has many names—which shows how +much he occupies our minds. Crystalman is a name of affection.” + +“It’s odd,” said Maskull. “I came here with quite different ideas about +Crystalman.” + +Joiwind shook her hair. “In that grove of trees over there stands a +desert shrine of his. Let us go and pray there, and then we’ll go on our +way to Poolingdred. That is my home. It’s a long way off, and we must +get there before Blodsombre.” + +“Now, what is Blodsombre?” + +“For about four hours in the middle of the day Branchspell’s rays are so +hot that no one can endure them. We call it Blodsombre.” + +“Is Branchspell another name for Arcturus?” + +Joiwind threw off her seriousness and laughed. “Naturally we don’t take +our names from you, Maskull. I don’t think our names are very poetic, +but they follow nature.” + +She took his arm affectionately, and directed their walk towards the +tree-covered hills. As they went along, the sun broke through the upper +mists and a terrible gust of scorching heat, like a blast from a +furnace, struck Maskull’s head. He involuntarily looked up, but lowered +his eyes again like lightning. All that he saw in that instant was a +glaring ball of electric white, three times the apparent diameter of the +sun. For a few minutes he was quite blind. + +“My God!” he exclaimed. “If it’s like this in early morning you must be +right enough about Blodsombre.” When he had somewhat recovered himself +he asked, “How long are the days here, Joiwind?” + +Again he felt his brain being probed. + +“At this time of the year, for every hour’s daylight that you have in +summer, we have two.” + +“The heat is terrific—and yet somehow I don’t feel so distressed by it +as I would have expected.” + +“I feel it more than usual. It’s not difficult to account for it; you +have some of my blood, and I have some of yours.” + +“Yes, every time I realise that, I—Tell me, Joiwind, will my blood +alter, if I stay here long enough?—I mean, will it lose its redness and +thickness, and become pure and thin and light-coloured, like yours?” + +“Why not? If you live as we live, you will assuredly grow like us.” + +“Do you mean food and drink?” + +“We eat no food, and drink only water.” + +“And on that you manage to sustain life?” + +“Well, Maskull, our water is good water,” replied Joiwind, smiling. + +As soon as he could see again he stared around at the landscape. The +enormous scarlet desert extended everywhere to the horizon, excepting +where it was broken by the oasis. It was roofed by a cloudless, deep +blue, almost violet, sky. The circle of the horizon was far larger than +on earth. On the skyline, at right angles to the direction in which they +were walking, appeared a chain of mountains, apparently about forty +miles distant. One, which was higher than the rest, was shaped like a +cup. Maskull would have felt inclined to believe he was travelling in +dreamland, but for the intensity of the light, which made everything +vividly real. + +Joiwind pointed to the cup-shaped mountain. “That’s Poolingdred.” + +“You didn’t come from there!” he exclaimed, quite startled. + +“Yes, I did indeed. And that is where we have to go to now.” + +“With the single object of finding me?” + +“Why, yes.” + +The colour mounted to his face. “Then you are the bravest and noblest of +all girls,” he said quietly, after a pause. “Without exception. Why, +this is a journey for an athlete!” + +She pressed his arm, while a score of unpaintable, delicate hues stained +her cheeks in rapid transition. “Please don’t say any more about it, +Maskull. It makes me feel unpleasant.” + +“Very well. But can we possibly get there before midday?” + +“Oh, yes. And you mustn’t be frightened at the distance. We think +nothing of long distances here—we have so much to think about and feel. +Time goes all too quickly.” + +During their conversation they had drawn near the base of the hills, +which sloped gently, and were not above fifty feet in height. Maskull +now began to see strange specimens of vegetable life. What looked like a +small patch of purple grass, above five feet square, was moving across +the sand in their direction. When it came near enough he perceived that +it was not grass; there were no blades, but only purple roots. The roots +were revolving, for each small plant in the whole patch, like the spokes +of a rimless wheel. They were alternately plunged in the sand, and +withdrawn from it, and by this means the plant proceeded forward. Some +uncanny, semi-intelligent instinct was keeping all the plants together, +moving at one pace, in one direction, like a flock of migrating birds in +flight. + +Another remarkable plant was a large, feathery ball, resembling a +dandelion fruit, which they encountered sailing through the air. Joiwind +caught it with an exceedingly graceful movement of her arm, and showed +it to Maskull. It had roots and presumably lived in the air and fed on +the chemical constituents of the atmosphere. But what was peculiar about +it was its colour. It was an entirely new colour—not a new shade or +combination, but a new primary colour, as vivid as blue, red, or yellow, +but quite different. When he inquired, she told him that it was known as +“ulfire.” Presently he met with a second new colour. This she designated +“jale.” The sense impressions caused in Maskull by these two additional +primary colors can only be vaguely hinted at by analogy. Just as blue is +delicate and mysterious, yellow clear and unsubtle, and red sanguine and +passionate, so he felt ulfire to be wild and painful, and jale +dreamlike, feverish, and voluptuous. + +The hills were composed of a rich, dark mould. Small trees, of weird +shapes, all differing from each other, but all purple-coloured, covered +the slopes and top. Maskull and Joiwind climbed up and through. Some +hard fruit, bright blue in colour, of the size of a large apple, and +shaped like an egg, was lying in profusion underneath the trees. + +“Is the fruit here poisonous, or why don’t you eat it?” asked Maskull. + +She looked at him tranquilly. “We don’t eat living things. The thought +is horrible to us.” + +“I have nothing to say against that, theoretically. But do you really +sustain your bodies on water?” + +“Supposing you could find nothing else to live on, Maskull—would you eat +other men?” + +“I would not.” + +“Neither will we eat plants and animals, which are our fellow creatures. +So nothing is left to us but water, and as one can really live on +anything, water does very well.” + +Maskull picked up one of the fruits and handled it curiously. As he did +so another of his newly acquired sense organs came into action. He found +that the fleshy knobs beneath his ears were in some novel fashion +acquainting him with the inward properties of the fruit. He could not +only see, feel, and smell it, but could detect its intrinsic nature. +This nature was hard, persistent and melancholy. + +Joiwind answered the questions he had not asked. + +“Those organs are called ‘poigns.’ Their use is to enable us to +understand and sympathise with all living creatures.” + +“What advantage do you derive from that, Joiwind?” + +“The advantage of not being cruel and selfish, dear Maskull.” + +He threw the fruit away and flushed again. + +Joiwind looked into his swarthy, bearded face without embarrassment and +slowly smiled. “Have I said too much? Have I been too familiar? Do you +know why you think so? It’s because you are still impure. By and by you +will listen to all language without shame.” + +Before he realised what she was about to do, she threw her tentacle +round his neck, like another arm. He offered no resistance to its cool +pressure. The contact of her soft flesh with his own was so moist and +sensitive that it resembled another kind of kiss. He saw who it was that +embraced him—a pale, beautiful girl. Yet, oddly enough, he experienced +neither voluptuousness nor sexual pride. The love expressed by the +caress was rich, glowing, and personal, but there was not the least +trace of sex in it—and so he received it. + +She removed her tentacle, placed her two arms on his shoulders and +penetrated with her eyes right into his very soul. + +“Yes, I wish to be pure,” he muttered. “Without that what can I ever be +but a weak, squirming devil?” + +Joiwind released him. “This we call the ‘magn,’” she said, indicating +her tentacle. “By means of it what we love already we love more, and +what we don’t love at all we begin to love.” + +“A godlike organ!” + +“It is the one we guard most jealously,” said Joiwind. + +The shade of the trees afforded a timely screen from the now almost +insufferable rays of Branchspell, which was climbing steadily upward to +the zenith. On descending the other side of the little hills, Maskull +looked anxiously for traces of Nightspore and Krag, but without result. +After staring about him for a few minutes he shrugged his shoulders; but +suspicions had already begun to gather in his mind. + +A small, natural amphitheatre lay at their feet, completely circled by +the tree-clad heights. The centre was of red sand. In the very middle +shot up a tall, stately tree, with a black trunk and branches, and +transparent, crystal leaves. At the foot of this tree was a natural, +circular well, containing dark green water. + +When they had reached the bottom, Joiwind took him straight over to the +well. + +Maskull gazed at it intently. “Is this the shrine you talked about?” + +“Yes. It is called Shaping’s Well. The man or woman who wishes to invoke +Shaping must take up some of the gnawl water, and drink it.” + +“Pray for me,” said Maskull. “Your unspotted prayer will carry more +weight.” + +“What do you wish for?” + +“For purity,” answered Maskull, in a troubled voice. + +Joiwind made a cup of her hand, and drank a little of the water. She +held it up to Maskull’s mouth. “You must drink too.” He obeyed. She then +stood erect, closed her eyes, and, in a voice like the soft murmurings +of spring, prayed aloud. + +“Shaping, my father, I am hoping you can hear me. A strange man has come +to us weighed down with heavy blood. He wishes to be pure. Let him know +the meaning of love, let him live for others. Don’t spare him pain, dear +Shaping, but let him seek his own pain. Breathe into him a noble soul.” + +Maskull listened with tears in his heart. + +As Joiwind finished speaking, a blurred mist came over his eyes, and, +half buried in the scarlet sand, appeared a large circle of dazzlingly +white pillars. For some minutes they flickered to and fro between +distinctness and indistinctness, like an object being focused. Then they +faded out of sight again. + +“Is that a sign from Shaping?” asked Maskull, in a low, awed tone. + +“Perhaps it is. It is a time mirage.” + +“What can that be, Joiwind?” + +“You see, dear Maskull, the temple does not yet exist but it will do so, +because it must. What you and I are now doing in simplicity, wise men +will do hereafter in full knowledge.” + +“It is right for man to pray,” said Maskull. “Good and evil in the world +don’t originate from nothing. God and Devil must exist. And we should +pray to the one, and fight the other.” + +“Yes, we must fight Krag.” + +“What name did you say?” asked Maskull in amazement. + +“Krag—the author of evil and misery—whom you call Devil.” + +He immediately concealed his thoughts. To prevent Joiwind from learning +his relationship to this being, he made his mind a blank. + +“Why do you hide your mind from me?” she demanded, looking at him +strangely and changing colour. + +“In this bright, pure, radiant world, evil seems so remote, one can +scarcely grasp its meaning.” But he lied. + +Joiwind continued gazing at him, straight out of her clean soul. “The +world is good and pure, but many men are corrupt. Panawe, my husband, +has travelled, and he has told me things I would almost rather have not +heard. One person he met believed the universe to be, from top to +bottom, a conjurer’s cave.” + +“I should like to meet your husband.” + +“Well, we are going home now.” + +Maskull was on the point of inquiring whether she had any children, but +was afraid of offending her, and checked himself. + +She read the mental question. “What need is there? Is not the whole +world full of lovely children? Why should I want selfish possessions?” + +An extraordinary creature flew past, uttering a plaintive cry of five +distinct notes. It was not a bird, but had a balloon-shaped body, +paddled by five webbed feet. It disappeared among the trees. + +Joiwind pointed to it, as it went by. “I love that beast, grotesque as +it is—perhaps all the more for its grotesqueness. But if I had children +of my own, would I still love it? Which is best—to love two or three, or +to love all?” + +“Every woman can’t be like you, Joiwind, but it is good to have a few +like you. Wouldn’t it be as well,” he went on, “since we’ve got to walk +through that sun-baked wilderness, to make turbans for our heads out of +some of those long leaves?” + +She smiled rather pathetically. “You will think me foolish, but every +tearing off of a leaf would be a wound in my heart. We have only to +throw our robes over our heads.” + +“No doubt that will answer the same purpose, but tell me—weren’t these +very robes once part of a living creature?” + +“Oh, no—no, they are the webs of a certain animal, but they have never +been in themselves alive.” + +“You reduce life to extreme simplicity,” remarked Maskull meditatively, +“but it is very beautiful.” + +Climbing back over the hills, they now without further ceremony began +their march across the desert. + +They walked side by side. Joiwind directed their course straight toward +Poolingdred. From the position of the sun, Maskull judged their way to +lie due north. The sand was soft and powdery, very tiring to his naked +feet. The red glare dazed his eyes, and made him semi-blind. He was hot, +parched, and tormented with the craving to drink; his undertone of pain +emerged into full consciousness. + +“I see my friends nowhere, and it is very queer.” + +“Yes, it is queer—if it is accidental,” said Joiwind, with a peculiar +intonation. + +“Exactly!” agreed Maskull. “If they had met with a mishap, their bodies +would still be there. It begins to look like a piece of bad work to me. +They must have gone on, and left me.... Well, I am here, and I must make +the best of it. I will trouble no more about them.” + +“I don’t wish to speak ill of anyone,” said Joiwind, “but my instinct +tells me that you are better away from those men. They did not come here +for your sake, but for their own.” + +They walked on for a long time. Maskull was beginning to feel faint. She +twined her magn lovingly around his waist, and a strong current of +confidence and well-being instantly coursed through his veins. + +“Thanks, Joiwind! But am I not weakening you?” + +“Yes,” she replied, with a quick, thrilling glance. “But not much—and it +gives me great happiness.” + +Presently they met a fantastic little creature, the size of a new-born +lamb, waltzing along on three legs. Each leg in turn moved to the front, +and so the little monstrosity proceeded by means of a series of complete +rotations. It was vividly coloured, as though it had been dipped into +pots of bright blue and yellow paint. It looked up with small, shining +eyes, as they passed. + +Joiwind nodded and smiled to it. “That’s a personal friend of mine, +Maskull. Whenever I come this way, I see it. It’s always waltzing, and +always in a hurry, but it never seems to get anywhere.” + +“It seems to me that life is so self-sufficient here that there is no +need for anyone to get anywhere. What I don’t quite understand is how +you manage to pass your days without ennui.” + +“That’s a strange word. It means, does it not, craving for excitement?” + +“Something of the kind,” said Maskull. + +“That must be a disease brought on by rich food.” + +“But are you never dull?” + +“How could we be? Our blood is quick and light and free, our flesh is +clean and unclogged, inside and out.... Before long I hope you will +understand what sort of question you have asked.” + +Farther on they encountered a strange phenomenon. In the heart of the +desert a fountain rose perpendicularly fifty feet into the air, with a +cool and pleasant hissing sound. It differed, however, from a fountain +in this respect—that the water of which it was composed did not return +to the ground but was absorbed by the atmosphere at the summit. It was +in fact a tall, graceful column of dark green fluid, with a capital of +coiling and twisting vapours. + +When they came closer, Maskull perceived that this water column was the +continuation and termination of a flowing brook, which came down from +the direction of the mountains. The explanation of the phenomenon was +evidently that the water at this spot found chemical affinities in the +upper air, and consequently forsook the ground. + +“Now let us drink,” said Joiwind. + +She threw herself unaffectedly at full length on the sand, face +downward, by the side of the brook, and Maskull was not long in +following her example. She refused to quench her thirst until she had +seen him drink. He found the water heavy, but bubbling with gas. He +drank copiously. It affected his palate in a new way—with the purity and +cleanness of water was combined the exhilaration of a sparkling wine, +raising his spirits—but somehow the intoxication brought out his better +nature, and not his lower. + +“We call it ‘gnawl water’,” said Joiwind. “This is not quite pure, as +you can see by the colour. At Poolingdred it is crystal clear. But we +would be ungrateful if we complained. After this you’ll find we’ll get +along much better.” + +Maskull now began to realise his environment, as it were for the first +time. All his sense organs started to show him beauties and wonders that +he had not hitherto suspected. The uniform glaring scarlet of the sands +became separated into a score of clearly distinguished shades of red. +The sky was similarly split up into different blues. The radiant heat of +Branchspell he found to affect every part of his body with unequal +intensities. His ears awakened; the atmosphere was full of murmurs, the +sands hummed, even the sun’s rays had a sound of their own—a kind of +faint Aeolian harp. Subtle, puzzling perfumes assailed his nostrils. His +palate lingered over the memory of the gnawl water. All the pores of his +skin were tickled and soothed by hitherto unperceived currents of air. +His poigns explored actively the inward nature of everything in his +immediate vicinity. His magn touched Joiwind, and drew from her person a +stream of love and joy. And lastly by means of his breve he exchanged +thoughts with her in silence. This mighty sense symphony stirred him to +the depths, and throughout the walk of that endless morning he felt no +more fatigue. + +When it was drawing near to Blodsombre, they approached the sedgy margin +of a dark green lake, which lay underneath Poolingdred. + +Panawe was sitting on a dark rock, waiting for them. + + + +Chapter 7. PANAWE + +The husband got up to meet his wife and their guest. He was clothed in +white. He had a beardless face, with breve and poigns. His skin, on face +and body alike, was so white, fresh, and soft, that it scarcely looked +skin at all—it rather resembled a new kind of pure, snowy flesh, +extending right down to his bones. It had nothing in common with the +artificially whitened skin of an over-civilised woman. Its whiteness and +delicacy aroused no voluptuous thoughts; it was obviously the +manifestation of a cold and almost cruel chastity of nature. His hair, +which fell to the nape of his neck, also was white; but again, from +vigour, not decay. His eyes were black, quiet and fathomless. He was +still a young man, but so stern were his features that he had the +appearance of a lawgiver, and this in spite of their great beauty and +harmony. + +His magn and Joiwind’s intertwined for a single moment and Maskull saw +his face soften with love, while she looked exultant. She put him in her +husband’s arms with gentle force, and stood back, gazing and smiling. +Maskull felt rather embarrassed at being embraced by a man, but +submitted to it; a sense of cool, pleasant languor passed through him in +the act. + +“The stranger is red-blooded, then?” + +He was startled by Panawe’s speaking in English, and the voice too was +extraordinary. It was absolutely tranquil, but its tranquillity seemed +in a curious fashion to be an illusion, proceeding from a rapidity of +thoughts and feelings so great that their motion could not be detected. +How this could be, he did not know. + +“How do you come to speak in a tongue you have never heard before?” +demanded Maskull. + +“Thought is a rich, complex thing. I can’t say if I am really speaking +your tongue by instinct, or if you yourself are translating my thoughts +into your tongue as I utter them.” + +“Already you see that Panawe is wiser than I am,” said Joiwind gaily. + +“What is your name?” asked the husband. + +“Maskull.” + +“That name must have a meaning—but again, thought is a strange thing. I +connect that name with something—but with what?” + +“Try to discover,” said Joiwind. + +“Has there been a man in your world who stole something from the Maker +of the universe, in order to ennoble his fellow creatures?” + +“There is such a myth. The hero’s name was Prometheus.” + +“Well, you seem to be identified in my mind with that action—but what it +all means I can’t say, Maskull.” + +“Accept it as a good omen, for Panawe never lies, and never speaks +thoughtlessly.” + +“There must be some confusion. These are heights beyond me,” said +Maskull calmly, but looking rather contemplative. + +“Where do you come from?” + +“From the planet of a distant sun, called Earth.” + +“What for?” + +“I was tired of vulgarity,” returned Maskull laconically. He +intentionally avoided mentioning his fellow voyagers, in order that +Krag’s name should not come to light. + +“That’s an honourable motive,” said Panawe. “And what’s more, it may be +true, though you spoke it as a prevarication.” + +“As far as it goes, it’s quite true,” said Maskull, staring at him with +annoyance and surprise. + +The swampy lake extended for about half a mile from where they were +standing to the lower buttresses of the mountain. Feathery purple reeds +showed themselves here and there through the shallows. The water was +dark green. Maskull did not see how they were going to cross it. + +Joiwind caught his arm. “Perhaps you don’t know that the lake will bear +us?” + +Panawe walked onto the water; it was so heavy that it carried his +weight. Joiwind followed with Maskull. He instantly started to slip +about—nevertheless the motion was amusing, and he learned so fast, by +watching and imitating Panawe, that he was soon able to balance himself +without assistance. After that he found the sport excellent. + +For the same reason that women excel in dancing, Joiwind’s half falls +and recoveries were far more graceful and sure than those of either of +the men. Her slight, draped form—dipping, bending, rising, swaying, +twisting, upon the surface of the dark water—this was a picture Maskull +could not keep his eyes away from. + +The lake grew deeper. The gnawl water became green-black. The crags, +gullies, and precipices of the shore could now be distinguished in +detail. A waterfall was visible, descending several hundred feet. The +surface of the lake grew disturbed—so much so that Maskull had +difficulty in keeping his balance. He therefore threw himself down and +started swimming on the face of the water. Joiwind turned her head, and +laughed so joyously that all her teeth flashed in the sunlight. + +They landed in a few more minutes on a promontory of black rock. The +water on Maskull’s garment and body evaporated very quickly. He gazed +upward at the towering mountain, but at that moment some strange +movements on the part of Panawe attracted his attention. His face was +working convulsively, and he began to stagger about. Then he put his +hand to his mouth and took from it what looked like a bright-coloured +pebble. He looked at it carefully for some seconds. Joiwind also looked, +over his shoulder, with quickly changing colors. After this inspection, +Panawe let the object—whatever it was—fall to the ground, and took no +more interest in it. + +“May I look?” asked Maskull; and, without waiting for permission, he +picked it up. It was a delicately beautiful egg-shaped crystal of pale +green. + +“Where did this come from?” he asked queerly. + +Panawe turned away, but Joiwind answered for him. “It came out of my +husband.” + +“That’s what I thought, but I couldn’t believe it. But what is it?” + +“I don’t know that it has either name or use. It is merely an +overflowing of beauty.” + +“Beauty?” + +Joiwind smiled. “If you were to regard nature as the husband, and Panawe +as the wife, Maskull, perhaps everything would be explained.” + +Maskull reflected. + +“On Earth,” he said after a minute, “men like Panawe are called artists, +poets, and musicians. Beauty overflows into them too, and out of them +again. The only distinction is that their productions are more human and +intelligible.” + +“Nothing comes from it but vanity,” said Panawe, and, taking the crystal +out of Maskull’s hand, he threw it into the lake. + +The precipice they now had to climb was several hundred feet in height. +Maskull was more anxious for Joiwind than for himself. She was evidently +tiring, but she refused all help, and was in fact still the nimbler of +the two. She made a mocking face at him. Panawe seemed lost in quiet +thoughts. The rock was sound, and did not crumble under their weight. +The heat of Branchspell, however, was by this time almost killing, the +radiance was shocking in its white intensity, and Maskull’s pain +steadily grew worse. + +When they got to the top, a plateau of dark rock appeared, bare of +vegetation, stretching in both directions as far as the eye could see. +It was of a nearly uniform width of five hundred yards, from the edge of +the cliffs to the lower slopes of the chain of hills inland. The hills +varied in height. The cup-shaped Poolingdred was approximately a +thousand feet above them. The upper part of it was covered with a kind +of glittering vegetation which he could not comprehend. + +Joiwind put her hand on Maskull’s shoulder, and pointed upward. “Here +you have the highest peak in the whole land—that is, until you come to +the Ifdawn Marest.” + +On hearing that strange name, he experienced a momentary unaccountable +sensation of wild vigour and restlessness—but it passed away. + +Without losing time, Panawe led the way up the mountainside. The lower +half was of bare rock, not difficult to climb. Halfway up, however, it +grew steeper, and they began to meet bushes and small trees. The growth +became thicker as they continued to ascend, and when they neared the +summit, tall forest trees appeared. + +These bushes and trees had pale, glassy trunks and branches, but the +small twigs and the leaves were translucent and crystal. They cast no +shadows from above, but still the shade was cool. Both leaves and +branches were fantastically shaped. What surprised Maskull the most, +however, was the fact that, as far as he could see, scarcely any two +plants belonged to the same species. + +“Won’t you help Maskull out of his difficulty?” said Joiwind, pulling +her husband’s arm. + +He smiled. “If he’ll forgive me for again trespassing in his brain. But +the difficulty is small. Life on a new planet, Maskull, is necessarily +energetic and lawless, and not sedate and imitative. Nature is still +fluid—not yet rigid—and matter is plastic. The will forks and sports +incessantly, and thus no two creatures are alike.” + +“Well, I understand all that,” replied Maskull, after listening +attentively. “But what I don’t grasp is this—if living creatures here +sport so energetically, how does it come about that human beings wear +much the same shape as in my world?” + +“I’ll explain that too,” said Panawe. “All creatures that resemble +Shaping must of necessity resemble one another.” + +“Then sporting is the blind will to become like Shaping?” + +“Exactly.” + +“It is most wonderful,” said Maskull. “Then the brotherhood of man is +not a fable invented by idealists, but a solid fact.” + +Joiwind looked at him, and changed colour. Panawe relapsed into +sternness. + +Maskull became interested in a new phenomenon. The jale-coloured +blossoms of a crystal bush were emitting mental waves, which with his +breve he could clearly distinguish. They cried out silently, “To me! To +me!” While he looked, a flying worm guided itself through the air to one +of these blossoms and began to suck its nectar. The floral cry +immediately ceased. + +They now gained the crest of the mountain, and looked down beyond. A +lake occupied its crater-like cavity. A fringe of trees partly +intercepted the view, but Maskull was able to perceive that this +mountain lake was nearly circular and perhaps a quarter of a mile +across. Its shore stood a hundred feet below them. + +Observing that his hosts did not propose to descend, he begged them to +wait for him, and scrambled down to the surface. When he got there, he +found the water perfectly motionless and of a colourless transparency. +He walked onto it, lay down at full length, and peered into the depths. +It was weirdly clear: he could see down for an indefinite distance, +without arriving at any bottom. Some dark, shadowy objects, almost out +of reach of his eyes, were moving about. Then a sound, very faint and +mysterious, seemed to come up through the gnawl water from an immense +depth. It was like the rhythm of a drum. There were four beats of equal +length, but the accent was on the third. It went on for a considerable +time, and then ceased. + +The sound appeared to him to belong to a different world from that in +which he was travelling. The latter was mystical, dreamlike, and +unbelievable—the drumming was like a very dim undertone of reality. It +resembled the ticking of a clock in a room full of voices, only +occasionally possible to be picked up by the ear. + +He rejoined Panawe and Joiwind, but said nothing to them about his +experience. They all walked round the rim of the crater, and gazed down +on the opposite side. Precipices similar to those that had overlooked +the desert here formed the boundary of a vast moorland plain, whose +dimensions could not be measured by the eye. It was solid land, yet he +could not make out its prevailing colour. It was as if made of +transparent glass, but it did not glitter in the sunlight. No objects in +it could be distinguished, except a rolling river in the far distance, +and, farther off still, on the horizon, a line of dark mountains, of +strange shapes. Instead of being rounded, conical, or hogbacked, these +heights were carved by nature into the semblance of castle battlements, +but with extremely deep indentations. + +The sky immediately above the mountains was of a vivid, intense blue. It +contrasted in a most marvellous way with the blue of the rest of the +heavens. It seemed more luminous and radiant, and was in fact like the +afterglow of a gorgeous blue sunset. + +Maskull kept on looking. The more he gazed, the more restless and noble +became his feelings. + +“What is that light?” + +Panawe was sterner than usual, while his wife clung to his arm. “It is +Alppain—our second sun,” he replied. “Those hills are the Ifdawn +Marest.... Now let us get to our shelter.” + +“Is it imagination, or am I really being affected—tormented by that +light?” + +“No, it’s not imagination—it’s real. How can it be otherwise when two +suns, of different natures, are drawing you at the same time? Luckily +you are not looking at Alppain itself. It’s invisible here. You would +need to go at least as far as Ifdawn, to set eyes on it.” + +“Why do you say ‘luckily’?” + +“Because the agony caused by those opposing forces would perhaps be more +than you could bear.... But I don’t know.” + +For the short distance that remained of their walk, Maskull was very +thoughtful and uneasy. He understood nothing. Whatever object his eye +chanced to rest on changed immediately into a puzzle. The silence and +stillness of the mountain peak seemed brooding, mysterious, and waiting. +Panawe gave him a friendly, anxious look, and without further delay led +the way down a little track, which traversed the side of the mountain +and terminated in the mouth of a cave. + +This cave was the home of Panawe and Joiwind. It was dark inside. The +host took a shell and, filling it with liquid from a well, carelessly +sprinkled the sandy floor of the interior. A greenish, phosphorescent +light gradually spread to the furthest limits of the cavern, and +continued to illuminate it for the whole time they were there. There was +no furniture. Some dried, fernlike leaves served for couches. + +The moment she got in, Joiwind fell down in exhaustion. Her husband +tended her with calm concern. He bathed her face, put drink to her lips, +energised her with his magn, and finally laid her down to sleep. At the +sight of the noble woman thus suffering on his account, Maskull was +distressed. + +Panawe, however, endeavoured to reassure him. “It’s quite true this has +been a very long, hard double journey, but for the future it will +lighten all her other journeys for her.... Such is the nature of +sacrifice.” + +“I can’t conceive how I have walked so far in a morning,” said Maskull, +“and she has been twice the distance.” + +“Love flows in her veins, instead of blood, and that’s why she is so +strong.” + +“You know she gave me some of it?” + +“Otherwise you couldn’t even have started.” + +“I shall never forget that.” + +The languorous heat of the day outside, the bright mouth of the cavern, +the cool seclusion of the interior, with its pale green glow, invited +Maskull to sleep. But curiosity got the better of his lassitude. + +“Will it disturb her if we talk?” + +“No.” + +“But how do you feel?” + +“I require little sleep. In any case, it’s more important that you +should hear something about your new life. It’s not all as innocent and +idyllic as this. If you intend to go through, you ought to be instructed +about the dangers.” + +“Oh, I guessed as much. But how shall we arrange—shall I put questions, +or will you tell me what you think is most essential?” + +Panawe motioned to Maskull to sit down on a pile of ferns, and at the +same time reclined himself, leaning on one arm, with outstretched legs. + +“I will tell some incidents of my life. You will begin to learn from +them what sort of place you have come to.” + +“I shall be grateful,” said Maskull, preparing himself to listen. + +Panawe paused for a moment or two, and then started his narrative in +tranquil, measured, yet sympathetic tones. + +PANAWE’S STORY + +“My earliest recollection is of being taken, when three years old +(that’s equivalent to fifteen of your years, but we develop more slowly +here), by my father and mother, to see Broodviol, the wisest man in +Tormance. He dwelt in the great Wombflash Forest. We walked through +trees for three days, sleeping at night. The trees grew taller as we +went along, until the tops were out of sight. The trunks were of a dark +red colour and the leaves were of pale ulfire. My father kept stopping +to think. If left uninterrupted, he would remain for half a day in deep +abstraction. My mother came out of Poolingdred, and was of a different +stamp. She was beautiful, generous, and charming—but also active. She +kept urging him on. This led to many disputes between them, which made +me miserable. On the fourth day we passed through a part of the forest +which bordered on the Sinking Sea. This sea is full of pouches of water +that will not bear a man’s weight, and as these light parts don’t differ +in appearance from the rest, it is dangerous to cross. My father pointed +out a dim outline on the horizon, and told me it was Swaylone’s Island. +Men sometimes go there, but none ever return. In the evening of the same +day we found Broodviol standing in a deep, miry pit in the forest, +surrounded on all sides by trees three hundred feet high. He was a big +gnarled, rugged, wrinkled, sturdy old man. His age at that time was a +hundred and twenty of our years, or nearly six hundred of yours. His +body was trilateral: he had three legs, three arms, and six eyes, placed +at equal distances all around his head. This gave him an aspect of great +watchfulness and sagacity. He was standing in a sort of trance. I +afterward heard this saying of his: ‘To lie is to sleep, to sit is to +dream, to stand is to think.’ My father caught the infection, and fell +into meditation, but my mother roused them both thoroughly. Broodviol +scowled at her savagely, and demanded what she required. Then I too +learned for the first time the object of our journey. I was a +prodigy—that is to say, I was without sex. My parents were troubled over +this, and wished to consult the wisest of men. + +“Old Broodviol smoothed his face, and said, ‘This perhaps will not be so +difficult. I will explain the marvel. Every man and woman among us is a +walking murderer. If a male, he has struggled with and killed the female +who was born in the same body with him—if a female, she has killed the +male. But in this child the struggle is still continuing.’ + +“‘How shall we end it?’ asked my mother. + +“‘Let the child direct its will to the scene of the combat, and it will +be of whichever sex it pleases.’ + +“‘You want, of course, to be a man, don’t you?’ said my mother to me +earnestly. + +“‘Then I shall be slaying your daughter, and that would be a crime.’ + +“Something in my tone attracted Broodviol’s notice. + +“‘That was spoken, not selfishly, but magnanimously. Therefore the male +must have spoken it, and you need not trouble further. Before you arrive +home, the child will be a boy.’ + +“My father walked away out of sight. My mother bent very low before +Broodviol for about ten minutes, and he remained all that time looking +kindly at her. + +“I heard that shortly afterward Alppain came into that land for a few +hours daily. Broodviol grew melancholy, and died. + +“His prophecy came true—before we reached home, I knew the meaning of +shame. But I have often pondered over his words since, in later years, +when trying to understand my own nature; and I have come to the +conclusion that, wisest of men as he was, he still did not see quite +straight on this occasion. Between me and my twin sister, enclosed in +one body, there never was any struggle, but instinctive reverence for +life withheld both of us from fighting for existence. Hers was the +stronger temperament, and she sacrificed herself—though not +consciously—for me. + +“As soon as I comprehended this, I made a vow never to eat or destroy +anything that contained life—and I have kept it ever since. + +“While I was still hardly a grown man, my father died. My mother’s death +followed immediately, and I hated the associations of the land. I +therefore made up my mind to travel into my mother’s country, where, as +she had often told me, nature was most sacred and solitary. + +“One hot morning I came to Shaping’s Causeway. It is so called either +because Shaping once crossed it, or because of its stupendous character. +It is a natural embankment, twenty miles long, which links the mountains +bordering my homeland with the Ifdawn Marest. The valley lies below at a +depth varying from eight to ten thousand feet—a terrible precipice on +either side. The knife edge of the ridge is generally not much over a +foot wide. The causeway goes due north and south. The valley on my right +hand was plunged in shadow—that on my left was sparkling with sunlight +and dew. I walked fearfully along this precarious path for some miles. +Far to the east the valley was closed by a lofty tableland, connecting +the two chains of mountains, but overtopping even the most towering +pinnacles. This is called the Sant Levels. I was never there, but I have +heard two curious facts concerning the inhabitants. The first is that +they have no women; the second, that though they are addicted to +travelling in other parts they never acquire habits of the peoples with +whom they reside. + +“Presently I turned giddy, and lay at full length for a great while, +clutching the two edges of the path with both hands, and staring at the +ground I was lying on with wide-open eyes. When that passed I felt like +a different man and grew conceited and gay. About halfway across I saw +someone approaching me a long way off. This put fear into my heart +again, for I did not see how we could very well pass. However, I went +slowly on, and presently we drew near enough together for me to +recognise the walker. It was Slofork, the so-called sorcerer. I had +never met him before, but I knew him by his peculiarities of person. He +was of a bright gamboge colour and possessed a very long, proboscis-like +nose, which appeared to be a useful organ, but did not add to his +beauty, as I knew beauty. He was dubbed ‘sorcerer’ from his wondrous +skill in budding limbs and organs. The tale is told that one evening he +slowly sawed his leg off with a blunt stone and then lay for two days in +agony while his new leg was sprouting. He was not reputed to be a +consistently wise man, but he had periodical flashes of penetration and +audacity that none could equal. + +“We sat down and faced one another, about two yards apart. + +“‘Which of us walks over the other?’ asked Slofork. His manner was as +calm as the day itself, but, to my young nature, terrible with hidden +terrors. I smiled at him, but did not wish for this humiliation. We +continued sitting thus, in a friendly way, for many minutes. + +“‘What is greater than Pleasure?’ he asked suddenly. + +“I was at an age when one wishes to be thought equal to any emergency, +so, concealing my surprise, I applied myself to the conversation, as if +it were for that purpose we had met. + +“‘Pain,’ I replied, ‘for pain drives out pleasure.’ + +“‘What is greater than Pain?’ + +“I reflected. ‘Love. Because we will accept our loved one’s share of +pain.’ + +“‘But what is greater than Love?’ he persisted. + +“‘Nothing, Slofork.’ + +“‘And what is Nothing?’ + +“‘That you must tell me.’ + +“‘Tell you I will. This is Shaping’s world. He that is a good child +here, knows pleasure, pain, and love, and gets his rewards. But there’s +another world—not Shaping’s—and there all this is unknown, and another +order of things reigns. That world we call Nothing—but it is not +Nothing, but Something.’ + +“There was a pause. + +“‘I have heard,’ said I, ‘that you are good at growing and ungrowing +organs?’ + +“‘That’s not enough for me. Every organ tells me the same story. I want +to hear different stories.’ + +“‘Is it true, what men say, that your wisdom flows and ebbs in pulses?’ + +“‘Quite true,’ replied Slofork. ‘But those you had it from did not add +that they have always mistaken the flow for the ebb.’ + +“‘My experience is,’ said I sententiously, ‘that wisdom is misery.’ + +“‘Perhaps it is, young man, but you have never learned that, and never +will. For you the world will continue to wear a noble, awful face. You +will never rise above mysticism.... But be happy in your own way.’ + +“Before I realised what he was doing, he jumped tranquilly from the +path, down into the empty void. He crashed with ever-increasing momentum +toward the valley below. I screeched, flung myself down on the ground, +and shut my eyes. + +“Often have I wondered which of my ill-considered, juvenile remarks it +was that caused this sudden resolution on his part to commit suicide. +Whichever it might be, since then I have made it a rigid law never to +speak for my own pleasure, but only to help others. + +“I came eventually to the Marest. I threaded its mazes in terror for +four days. I was frightened of death, but still more terrified at the +possibility of losing my sacred attitude toward life. When I was nearly +through, and was beginning to congratulate myself, I stumbled across the +third extraordinary personage of my experience—the grim Muremaker. It +was under horrible circumstances. On an afternoon, cloudy and stormy, I +saw, suspended in the air without visible support, a living man. He was +hanging in an upright position in front of a cliff—a yawning gulf, a +thousand feet deep, lay beneath his feet. I climbed as near as I could, +and looked on. He saw me, and made a wry grimace, like one who wishes to +turn his humiliation into humour. The spectacle so astounded me that I +could not even grasp what had happened. + +“‘I am Muremaker,’ he cried in a scraping voice which shocked my ears. +‘All my life I have sorbed others—now I am sorbed. Nuclamp and I fell +out over a woman. Now Nuclamp holds me up like this. While the strength +of his will lasts I shall remain suspended; but when he gets tired—and +it can’t be long now—I drop into those depths.’ + +“Had it been another man, I would have tried to save him, but this ogre- +like being was too well known to me as one who passed his whole +existence in tormenting, murdering, and absorbing others, for the sake +of his own delight. I hurried away, and did not pause again that day. + +“In Poolingdred I met Joiwind. We walked and talked together for a +month, and by that time we found that we loved each other too well to +part.” + +Panawe stopped speaking. + +“That is a fascinating story,” remarked Maskull. “Now I begin to know my +way around better. But one thing puzzles me.” + +“What’s that?” + +“How it happens that men here are ignorant of tools and arts, and have +no civilisation, and yet contrive to be social in their habits and wise +in their thoughts.” + +“Do you imagine, then, that love and wisdom spring from tools? But I see +how it arises. In your world you have fewer sense organs, and to make up +for the deficiency you have been obliged to call in the assistance of +stones and metals. That’s by no means a sign of superiority.” + +“No, I suppose not,” said Maskull, “but I see I have a great deal to +unlearn.” + +They talked together a little longer, and then gradually fell asleep. +Joiwind opened her eyes, smiled, and slumbered again. + + + +Chapter 8. THE LUSION PLAIN + +Maskull awoke before the others. He got up, stretched himself, and +walked out into the sunlight. Branchspell was already declining. He +climbed to the top of the crater edge and looked away toward Ifdawn. The +afterglow of Alppain had by now completely disappeared. The mountains +stood up wild and grand. + +They impressed him like a simple musical theme, the notes of which are +widely separated in the scale; a spirit of rashness, daring, and +adventure seemed to call to him from them. It was at that moment that +the determination flashed into his heart to walk to the Marest and +explore its dangers. + +He returned to the cavern to say good-by to his hosts. + +Joiwind looked at him with her brave and honest eyes. “Is this +selfishness, Maskull?” she asked, “or are you drawn by something +stronger than yourself?” + +“We must be reasonable,” he answered, smiling. “I can’t settle down in +Poolingdred before I have found out something about this surprising new +planet of yours. Remember what a long way I have come.... But very +likely I shall come back here.” + +“Will you make me a promise?” + +Maskull hesitated. “Ask nothing difficult, for I hardly know my powers +yet.” + +“It is not hard, and I wish it. Promise this—never to raise your hand +against a living creature, either to strike, pluck, or eat, without +first recollecting its mother, who suffered for it.” + +“Perhaps I won’t promise that,” said Maskull slowly, “but I’ll undertake +something more tangible. I will never lift my hand against a living +creature without first recollecting you, Joiwind.” + +She turned a little pale. “Now if Panawe knew that Panawe existed, he +might be jealous.” + +Panawe put his hand on her gently. “You would not talk like that in +Shaping’s presence,” he said. + +“No. Forgive me! I’m not quite myself. Perhaps it is Maskull’s blood in +my veins.... Now let us bid him adieu. Let us pray that he will do only +honourable deeds, wherever he may be.” + +“I’ll set Maskull on his way,” said Panawe. + +“There’s no need,” replied Maskull. “The way is plain.” + +“But talking shortens the road.” + +Maskull turned to go. + +Joiwind pulled him around toward her softly. “You won’t think badly of +other women on my account?” + +“You are a blessed spirit,” answered he. + +She trod quietly to the inner extremity of the cave and stood there +thinking. Panawe and Maskull emerged into the open air. Halfway down the +cliff face a little spring was encountered. Its water was colourless, +transparent, but gaseous. As soon as Maskull had satisfied his thirst he +felt himself different. His surroundings were so real to him in their +vividness and colour, so unreal in their phantom-like mystery, that he +scrambled downhill like one in a winter’s dream. + +When they reached the plain he saw in front of them an interminable +forest of tall trees, the shapes of which were extraordinarily foreign +looking. The leaves were crystalline and, looking upward, it was as if +he were gazing through a roof of glass. The moment they got underneath +the trees the light rays of the sun continued to come through—white, +savage, and blazing—but they were gelded of heat. Then it was not hard +to imagine that they were wandering through cool, bright elfin glades. + +Through the forest, beginning at their very feet an avenue, perfectly +straight and not very wide, went forward as far as the eye could see. + +Maskull wanted to talk to his travelling companion, but was somehow +unable to find words. Panawe glanced at him with an inscrutable +smile—stern, yet enchanting and half feminine. He then broke the +silence, but, strangely enough, Maskull could not make out whether he +was singing or speaking. From his lips issued a slow musical recitative, +exactly like a bewitching adagio from a low toned stringed +instrument—but there was a difference. Instead of the repetition and +variation of one or two short themes, as in music, Panawe’s theme was +prolonged—it never came to an end, but rather resembled a conversation +in rhythm and melody. And, at the same time, it was no recitative, for +it was not declamatory. It was a long, quiet stream of lovely emotion. + +Maskull listened entranced, yet agitated. The song, if it might be +termed song, seemed to be always just on the point of becoming clear and +intelligible—not with the intelligibility of words, but in the way one +sympathises with another’s moods and feelings; and Maskull felt that +something important was about to be uttered, which would explain all +that had gone before. But it was invariably postponed, he never +understood—and yet somehow he did understand. + +Late in the afternoon they came to a clearing, and there Panawe ceased +his recitative. He slowed his pace and stopped, in the fashion of a man +who wishes to convey that he intends to go no farther. + +“What is the name of this country?” asked Maskull. + +“It is the Lusion Plain.” + +“Was that music in the nature of a temptation—do you wish me not to go +on?” + +“Your work lies before you, and not behind you.” + +“What was it, then? What work do you allude to?” + +“It must have seemed like something to you, Maskull.” + +“It seemed like Shaping music to me.” + +The instant he had absently uttered these words, Maskull wondered why he +had done so, as they now appeared meaningless to him. + +Panawe, however, showed no surprise. “Shaping you will find everywhere.” + +“Am I dreaming, or awake?” + +“You are awake.” + +Maskull fell into deep thought. “So be it,” he said, rousing himself. +“Now I will go on. But where must I sleep tonight?” + +“You will reach a broad river. On that you can travel to the foot of the +Marest tomorrow; but tonight you had better sleep where the forest and +river meet.” + +“Adieu, then, Panawe! But do you wish to say anything more to me?” + +“Only this, Maskull—wherever you go, help to make the world beautiful, +and not ugly.” + +“That’s more than any of us can undertake. I am a simple man, and have +no ambitions in the way of beautifying life—But tell Joiwind I will try +to keep myself pure.” + +They parted rather coldly. Maskull stood erect where they had stopped, +and watched Panawe out of sight. He sighed more than once. + +He became aware that something was about to happen. The air was +breathless. The late-afternoon sunshine, unobstructed, wrapped his frame +in voluptuous heat. A solitary cloud, immensely high, raced through the +sky overhead. + +A single trumpet note sounded in the far distance from somewhere behind +him. It gave him an impression of being several miles away at first; but +then it slowly swelled, and came nearer and nearer at the same time that +it increased in volume. Still the same note sounded, but now it was as +if blown by a giant trumpeter immediately over his head. Then it +gradually diminished in force, and travelled away in front of him. It +ended very faintly and distantly. + +He felt himself alone with Nature. A sacred stillness came over his +heart. Past and future were forgotten. The forest, the sun, the day did +not exist for him. He was unconscious of himself—he had no thoughts and +no feelings. Yet never had Life had such an altitude for him. + +A man stood, with crossed arms, right in his path. He was so clothed +that his limbs were exposed, while his body was covered. He was young +rather than old. Maskull observed that his countenance possessed none of +the special organs of Tormance, to which he had not even yet become +reconciled. He was smooth-faced. His whole person seemed to radiate an +excess of life, like the trembling of air on a hot day. His eyes had +such force that Maskull could not meet them. + +He addressed Maskull by name, in an extraordinary voice. It had a double +tone. The primary one sounded far away; the second was an undertone, +like a sympathetic tanging string. + +Maskull felt a rising joy, as he continued standing in the presence of +this individual. He believed that something good was happening to him. +He found it physically difficult to bring any words out. “Why do you +stop me?” + +“Maskull, look well at me. Who am I?” + +“I think you are Shaping.” + +“I am Surtur.” + +Maskull again attempted to meet his eyes, but felt as if he were being +stabbed. + +“You know that this is my world. Why do you think I have brought you +here? I wish you to serve me.” + +Maskull could no longer speak. + +“Those who joke at my world,” continued the vision, “those who make a +mock of its stern, eternal rhythm, its beauty and sublimity, which are +not skin-deep, but proceed from fathomless roots—they shall not escape.” + +“I do not mock it.” + +“Ask me your questions, and I will answer them.” + +“I have nothing.” + +“It is necessary for you to serve me, Maskull. Do you not understand? +You are my servant and helper.” + +“I shall not fail.” + +“This is for my sake, and not for yours.” + +These last words had no sooner left Surtur’s mouth than Maskull saw him +spring suddenly upward and outward. Looking up at the vault of the sky, +he saw the whole expanse of vision filled by Surtur’s form—not as a +concrete man, but as a vast, concave cloud image, looking down and +frowning at him. Then the spectacle vanished, as a light goes out. + +Maskull stood inactive, with a thumping heart. Now he again heard the +solitary trumpet note. The sound began this time faintly in the far +distance in front of him, travelled slowly toward him with regularly +increasing intensity, passed overhead at its loudest, and then grew more +and more quiet, wonderful, and solemn, as it fell away in the rear, +until the note was merged in the deathlike silence of the forest. It +appeared to Maskull like the closing of a marvellous and important +chapter. + +Simultaneously with the fading away of the sound, the heavens seemed to +open up with the rapidity of lightning into a blue vault of immeasurable +height. He breathed a great breath, stretched all his limbs, and looked +around him with a slow smile. + +After a while he resumed his journey. His brain was all dark and +confused, but one idea was already beginning to stand out from the +rest—huge, shapeless, and grand, like the growing image in the soul of a +creative artist: the staggering thought that he was a man of destiny. + +The more he reflected upon all that had occurred since his arrival in +this new world—and even before leaving Earth—the clearer and more +indisputable it became, that he could not be here for his own purposes, +but must be here for an end. But what that end was, he could not +imagine. + +Through the forest he saw Branchspell at last sinking in the west. It +looked a stupendous ball of red fire—now he could realise at his ease +what a sun it was! The avenue took an abrupt turn to the left and began +to descend steeply. + +A wide, rolling river of clear and dark water was visible in front of +him, no great way off. It flowed from north to south. The forest path +led him straight to its banks. Maskull stood there, and regarded the +lapping, gurgling waters pensively. On the opposite bank, the forest +continued. Miles to the south, Poolingdred could just be distinguished. +On the northern skyline the Ifdawn Mountains loomed up—high, wild, +beautiful, and dangerous. They were not a dozen miles away. + +Like the first mutterings of a thunderstorm, the first faint breaths of +cool wind, Maskull felt the stirrings of passion in his heart. In spite +of his bodily fatigue, he wished to test his strength against something. +This craving he identified with the crags of the Marest. They seemed to +have the same magical attraction for his will as the lodestone for iron. +He kept biting his nails, as he turned his eyes in that +direction—wondering if it would not be possible to conquer the heights +that evening. But when he glanced back again at Poolingdred, he +remembered Joiwind and Panawe, and grew more tranquil. He decided to +make his bed at this spot, and to set off as soon after daybreak as he +should awake. + +He drank at the river, washed himself, and lay down on the bank to +sleep. By this time, so far had his idea progressed, that he cared +nothing for the possible dangers of the night—he confided in his star. + +Branchspell set, the day faded, night with its terrible weight came on, +and through it all Maskull slept. Long before midnight, however, he was +awakened by a crimson glow in the sky. He opened his eyes, and wondered +where he was. He felt heaviness and pain. The red glow was a terrestrial +phenomenon; it came from among the trees. He got up and went toward the +source of the light. + +Away from the river, not a hundred feet off, he nearly stumbled across +the form of a sleeping woman. The object which emitted the crimson rays +was lying on the ground, several yards away from her. It was like a +small jewel, throwing off sparks of red light. He barely threw a glance +at that, however. + +The woman was clothed in the large skin of an animal. She had big, +smooth, shapely limbs, rather muscular than fat. Her magn was not a thin +tentacle, but a third arm, terminating in a hand. Her face, which was +upturned, was wild, powerful, and exceedingly handsome. But he saw with +surprise that in place of a breve on her forehead, she possessed another +eye. All three were closed. The colour of her skin in the crimson glow +he could not distinguish. + +He touched her gently with his hand. She awoke calmly and looked up at +him without stirring a muscle. All three eyes stared at him; but the two +lower ones were dull and vacant—mere carriers of vision. The middle, +upper one alone expressed her inner nature. Its haughty, unflinching +glare had yet something seductive and alluring in it. Maskull felt a +challenge in that look of lordly, feminine will, and his manner +instinctively stiffened. + +She sat up. + +“Can you speak my language?” he asked. “I wouldn’t put such a question, +but others have been able to.” + +“Why should you imagine that I can’t read your mind? Is it so extremely +complex?” + +She spoke in a rich, lingering, musical voice, which delighted him to +listen to. + +“No, but you have no breve.” + +“Well, but haven’t I a sorb, which is better?” And she pointed to the +eye on her brow. + +“What is your name?” + +“Oceaxe.” + +“And where do you come from?” + +“Ifdawn.” + +These contemptuous replies began to irritate him, and yet the mere sound +of her voice was fascinating. + +“I am going there tomorrow,” he remarked. + +She laughed, as if against her will, but made no comment. + +“My name is Maskull,” he went on. “I am a stranger—from another world.” + +“So I should judge, from your absurd appearance.” + +“Perhaps it would be as well to say at once,” said Maskull bluntly, “are +we, or are we not, to be friends?” + +She yawned and stretched her arms, without rising. “Why should we be +friends? If I thought you were a man, I might accept you as a lover.” + +“You must look elsewhere for that.” + +“So be it, Maskull! Now go away, and leave me in peace.” + +She dropped her head again to the ground, but did not at once close her +eyes. + +“What are you doing here?” he interrogated. + +“Oh, we Ifdawn folk occasionally come here to sleep, for there often +enough it is a night for us which has no next morning.” + +“Being such a terrible place, and seeing that I am a total stranger, it +would be merely courteous if you were to warn me what I have to expect +in the way of dangers.” + +“I am perfectly and utterly indifferent to what becomes of you,” +retorted Oceaxe. + +“Are you returning in the morning?” persisted Maskull. + +“If I wish.” + +“Then we will go together.” + +She got up again on her elbow. “Instead of making plans for other +people, I would do a very necessary thing.” + +“Pray, tell me.” + +“Well, there’s no reason why I should, but I will. I would try to +convert my women’s organs into men’s organs. It is a man’s country.” + +“Speak more plainly.” + +“Oh, it’s plain enough. If you attempt to pass through Ifdawn without a +sorb, you are simply committing suicide. And that magn too is worse than +useless.” + +“You probably know what you are talking about, Oceaxe. But what do you +advise me to do?” + +She negligently pointed to the light-emitting stone lying on the ground. + +“There is the solution. If you hold that drude to your organs for a good +while, perhaps it will start the change, and perhaps nature will do the +rest during the night. I promise nothing.” + +Oceaxe now really turned her back on Maskull. + +He considered for a few minutes, and then walked over to where the stone +was lying, and took it in his hand. It was a pebble the size of a hen’s +egg, radiant with crimson light, as though red-hot, and throwing out a +continuous shower of small, blood-red sparks. + +Finally deciding that Oceaxe’s advice was good, he applied the drude +first to his magn, and then to his breve. He experienced a cauterising +sensation—a feeling of healing pain. + + + +Chapter 9. OCEAXE + +Maskull’s second day on Tormance dawned. Branchspell was already above +the horizon when he awoke. He was instantly aware that his organs had +changed during the night. His fleshy breve was altered into an eyelike +sorb; his magn had swelled and developed into a third arm, springing +from the breast. The arm gave him at once a sense of greater physical +security, but with the sorb he was obliged to experiment, before he +could grasp its function. + +As he lay there in the white sunlight, opening and shutting each of his +three eyes in turn, he found that the two lower ones served his +understanding, the upper one his will. That is to say, with the lower +eyes he saw things in clear detail, but without personal interest; with +the sorb he saw nothing as self-existent—everything appeared as an +object of importance or non-importance to his own needs. + +Rather puzzled as to how this would turn out, he got up and looked about +him. He had slept out of sight of Oceaxe. He was anxious to learn if she +were still on the spot, but before going to ascertain he made up his +mind to bathe in the river. + +It was a glorious morning. The hot white sun already began to glare, but +its heat was tempered by a strong wind, which whistled through the +trees. A host of fantastic clouds filled the sky. They looked like +animals, and were always changing shape. The ground, as well as the +leaves and branches of the forest trees, still held traces of heavy dew +or rain during the night. A poignantly sweet smell of nature entered his +nostrils. His pain was quiescent, and his spirits were high. + +Before he bathed, he viewed the mountains of the Ifdawn Marest. In the +morning sunlight they stood out pictorially. He guessed that they were +from five to six thousand feet high. The lofty, irregular, castellated +line seemed like the walls of a magic city. The cliffs fronting him were +composed of gaudy rocks—vermilion, emerald, yellow, ulfire, and black. +As he gazed at them, his heart began to beat like a slow, heavy drum, +and he thrilled all over—indescribable hopes, aspirations, and emotions +came over him. It was more than the conquest of a new world which he +felt—it was something different.... + +He bathed and drank, and as he was reclothing himself, Oceaxe strolled +indolently up. + +He could now perceive the colour of her skin—it was a vivid, yet +delicate mixture of carmine, white, and jale. The effect was startlingly +unearthly. With these new colors she looked like a genuine +representative of a strange planet. Her frame also had something curious +about it. The curves were womanly, the bones were characteristically +female—yet all seemed somehow to express a daring, masculine underlying +will. The commanding eye on her forehead set the same puzzle in plainer +language. Its bold, domineering egotism was shot with undergleams of sex +and softness. + +She came to the river’s edge and reviewed him from top to toe. “Now you +are built more like a man,” she said, in her lovely, lingering voice. + +“You see, the experiment was successful,” he answered, smiling gaily. + +Oceaxe continued looking him over. “Did some woman give you that +ridiculous robe?” + +“A woman did give it to me”—dropping his smile—“but I saw nothing +ridiculous in the gift at the time, and I don’t now.” + +“I think I’d look better in it.” + +As she drawled the words, she began stripping off the skin, which suited +her form so well, and motioned to him to exchange garments. He obeyed, +rather shamefacedly, for he realised that the proposed exchange was in +fact more appropriate to his sex. He found the skin a freer dress. +Oceaxe in her drapery appeared more dangerously feminine to him. + +“I don’t want you to receive gifts at all from other women,” she +remarked slowly. + +“Why not? What can I be to you?” + +“I have been thinking about you during the night.” Her voice was +retarded, scornful, viola-like. She sat down on the trunk of a fallen +tree, and looked away. + +“In what way?” + +She returned no answer to his question, but began to pull off pieces of +the bark. + +“Last night you were so contemptuous.” + +“Last night is not today. Do you always walk through the world with your +head over your shoulder?” + +It was now Maskull’s turn to be silent. + +“Still, if you have male instincts, as I suppose you have, you can’t go +on resisting me forever.” + +“But this is preposterous,” said Maskull, opening his eyes wide. +“Granted that you are a beautiful woman—we can’t be quite so primeval.” + +Oceaxe sighed, and rose to her feet. “It doesn’t matter. I can wait.” + +“From that I gather that you intend to make the journey in my society. I +have no objection—in fact I shall be glad—but only on condition that you +drop this language.” + +“Yet you do think me beautiful?” + +“Why shouldn’t I think so, if it is the fact? I fail to see what that +has to do with my feelings. Bring it to an end, Oceaxe. You will find +plenty of men to admire—and love you.” + +At that she blazed up. “Does love pick and choose, you fool? Do you +imagine I am so hard put to it that I have to hunt for lovers? Is not +Crimtyphon waiting for me at this very moment?” + +“Very well. I am sorry to have hurt your feelings. Now carry the +temptation no farther—for it is a temptation, where a lovely woman is +concerned. I am not my own master.” + +“I’m not proposing anything so very hateful, am I? Why do you humiliate +me so?” + +Maskull put his hands behind his back. “I repeat, I am not my own +master.” + +“Then who is your master?” + +“Yesterday I saw Surtur, and from today I am serving him.” + +“Did you speak with him?” she asked curiously. + +“I did.” + +“Tell me what he said.” + +“No, I can’t—I won’t. But whatever he said, his beauty was more +tormenting than yours, Oceaxe, and that’s why I can look at you in cold +blood.” + +“Did Surtur forbid you to be a man?” + +Maskull frowned. “Is love such a manly sport, then? I should have +thought it effeminate.” + +“It doesn’t matter. You won’t always be so boyish. But don’t try my +patience too far.” + +“Let us talk about something else—and, above all, let us get on our +road.” + +She suddenly broke into a laugh, so rich, sweet, and enchanting, that he +grew half inflamed, and half wished to catch her body in his arms. “Oh, +Maskull, Maskull—what a fool you are!” + +“In what way am I a fool?” he demanded, scowling—not at her words, but +at his own weakness. + +“Isn’t the whole world the handiwork of innumerable pairs of lovers? And +yet you think yourself above all that. You try to fly away from nature, +but where will you find a hole to hide yourself in?” + +“Besides beauty, I now credit you with a second quality: persistence.” + +“Read me well, and then it is natural law that you’ll think twice and +three times before throwing me away.... And now, before we go, we had +better eat.” + +“Eat?” said Maskull thoughtfully. + +“Don’t you eat? Is food in the same category as love?” + +“What food is it?” + +“Fish from the river.” + +Maskull recollected his promise to Joiwind. At the same time, he felt +hungry. + +“Is there nothing milder?” + +She pulled her mouth scornfully. “You came through Poolingdred, didn’t +you? All the people there are the same. They think life is to be looked +at, and not lived. Now that you are visiting Ifdawn, you will have to +change your notions.” + +“Go catch your fish,” he returned, pulling down his brows. + +The broad, clear waters flowed past them with swelling undulations, from +the direction of the mountains. Oceaxe knelt down on the bank, and +peered into the depths. Presently her look became tense and +concentrated; she dipped her hand in and pulled out some sort of little +monster. It was more like a reptile than a fish, with its scaly plates +and teeth. She threw it on the ground, and it started crawling about. +Suddenly she darted all her will into her sorb. The creature leaped into +the air, and fell down dead. + +She picked up a sharp-edged slate, and with it removed the scales and +entrails. During this operation, her hands and garment became stained +with the light scarlet blood. + +“Find the drude, Maskull,” she said, with a lazy smile. “You had it last +night.” + +He searched for it. It was hard to locate, for its rays had grown dull +and feeble in the sunlight, but at last he found it. Oceaxe placed it in +the interior of the monster, and left the body lying on the ground. + +“While it’s cooking, I’ll wash some of this blood away, which frightens +you so much. Have you never seen blood before?” + +Maskull gazed at her in perplexity. The old paradox came back—the +contrasting sexual characteristics in her person. Her bold, masterful, +masculine egotism of manner seemed quite incongruous with the +fascinating and disturbing femininity of her voice. A startling idea +flashed into his mind. + +“In your country I’m told there is an act of will called ‘absorbing.’ +What is that?” + +She held her red, dripping hands away from her draperies, and uttered a +delicious, clashing laugh. “You think I am half a man?” + +“Answer my question.” + +“I’m a woman through and through, Maskull—to the marrowbone. But that’s +not to say I have never absorbed males.” + +“And that means...” + +“New strings for my harp, Maskull. A wider range of passions, a stormier +heart...” + +“For you, yes—But for them?...” + +“I don’t know. The victims don’t describe their experiences. Probably +unhappiness of some sort—if they still know anything.” + +“This is a fearful business!” he exclaimed, regarding her gloomily. “One +would think Ifdawn a land of devils.” + +Oceaxe gave a beautiful sneer as she took a step toward the river. +“Better men than you—better in every sense of the word—are walking about +with foreign wills inside them. You may be as moral as you like, +Maskull, but the fact remains, animals were made to be eaten, and simple +natures were made to be absorbed.” + +“And human rights count for nothing!” + +She had bent over the river’s edge, to wash her arms and hands, but +glanced up over her shoulder to answer his remark. “They do count. But +we only regard a man as human for just as long as he’s able to hold his +own with others.” + +The flesh was soon cooked, and they breakfasted in silence. Maskull cast +heavy, doubtful glances from time to time toward his companion. Whether +it was due to the strange quality of the food, or to his long +abstention, he did not know, but the meal tasted nauseous, and even +cannibalistic. He ate little, and the moment he got up he felt defiled. + +“Let me bury this drude, where I can find it some other time,” said +Oceaxe. “On the next occasion, though, I shall have no Maskull with me, +to shock.... Now we have to take to the river.” + +They stepped off the land onto the water. It flowed against them with a +sluggish current, but the opposition, instead of hindering them, had the +contrary effect—it caused them to exert themselves, and they moved +faster. They climbed the river in this way for several miles. The +exercise gradually improved the circulation of Maskull’s blood, and he +began to look at things in a far more cheerful way. The hot sunshine, +the diminished wind, the marvellous cloud scenery, the quiet, crystal +forests—all was soothing and delightful. They approached nearer and +nearer to the gaily painted heights of Ifdawn. + +There was something enigmatic to him in those bright walls. He was +attracted by them, yet felt a sort of awe. They looked real, but at the +same time very supernatural. If one could see the portrait of a ghost, +painted with a hard, firm outline, in substantial colors, the feelings +produced by such a sight would be exactly similar to Maskull’s +impressions as he studied the Ifdawn precipices. + +He broke the long silence. “Those mountains have most extraordinary +shapes. All the lines are straight and perpendicular—no slopes or +curves.” + +She walked backward on the water, in order to face him. “That’s typical +of Ifdawn. Nature is all hammer blows with us. Nothing soft and +gradual.” + +“I hear you, but I don’t understand you.” + +“All over the Marest you’ll find patches of ground plunging down or +rushing up. Trees grow fast. Women and men don’t think twice before +acting. One may call Ifdawn a place of quick decisions.” + +Maskull was impressed. “A fresh, wild, primitive land.” + +“How is it where you come from?” asked Oceaxe. + +“Oh, mine is a decrepit world, where nature takes a hundred years to +move a foot of solid land. Men and animals go about in flocks. +Originality is a lost habit.” + +“Are there women there?” + +“As with you, and not very differently formed.” + +“Do they love?” + +He laughed. “So much so that it has changed the dress, speech, and +thoughts of the whole sex.” + +“Probably they are more beautiful than I?” + +“No, I think not,” said Maskull. + +There was another rather long silence, as they travelled unsteadily +onward. + +“What is your business in Ifdawn?” demanded Oceaxe suddenly. + +He hesitated over his answer. “Can you grasp that it’s possible to have +an aim right in front of one, so big that one can’t see it as a whole?” + +She stole a long, inquisitive look at him, “What sort of aim?” + +“A moral aim.” + +“Are you proposing to set the world right?” + +“I propose nothing—I am waiting.” + +“Don’t wait too long, for time doesn’t wait—especially in Ifdawn.” + +“Something will happen,” said Maskull. + +Oceaxe threw a subtle smile. “So you have no special destination in the +Marest?” + +“No, and if you’ll permit me, I will come home with you.” + +“Singular man!” she said, with a short, thrilling laugh. “That’s what I +have been offering all the time. Of course you will come home with me. +As for Crimtyphon...” + +“You mentioned that name before. Who is he?” + +“Oh! My lover, or, as you would say, my husband.” + +“This doesn’t improve matters,” said Maskull. + +“It leaves them exactly where they were. We merely have to remove him.” + +“We are certainly misunderstanding each other,” said Maskull, quite +startled. “Do you by any chance imagine that I am making a compact with +you?” + +“You will do nothing against your will. But you have promised to come +home with me.” + +“Tell me, how do you remove husbands in Ifdawn?” + +“Either you or I must kill him.” + +He eyed her for a full minute. “Now we are passing from folly to +insanity.” + +“Not at all,” replied Oceaxe. “It is the too-sad truth. And when you +have seen Crimtyphon, you will realise it.” + +“I’m aware I am on a strange planet,” said Maskull slowly, “where all +sorts of unheard of things may happen, and where the very laws of +morality may be different. Still as far as I am concerned, murder is +murder, and I’ll have no more to do with a woman who wants to make use +of me, to get rid of her husband.” + +“You think me wicked?” demanded Oceaxe steadily. + +“Or mad.” + +“Then you had better leave me, Maskull—only—” + +“Only what?” + +“You wish to be consistent, don’t you? Leave all other mad and wicked +people as well. Then you’ll find it easier to reform the rest.” + +Maskull frowned, but said nothing. + +“Well?” demanded Oceaxe, with a half smile. + +“I’ll come with you, and I’ll see Crimtyphon—if only to warn him.” + +Oceaxe broke into a cascade of rich, feminine laughter, but whether at +the image conjured up by Maskull’s last words, or from some other cause, +he did not know. The conversation dropped. + +At a distance of a couple of miles from the now towering cliffs, the +river made a sharp, right-angled turn to the west, and was no longer of +use to them on their journey. Maskull stared up doubtfully. + +“It’s a stiff climb for a hot morning.” + +“Let’s rest here a little,” said she, indicating a smooth flat island of +black rock, standing up just out of the water in the middle of the +river. + +They accordingly went to it, and Maskull sat down. Oceaxe, however, +standing graceful and erect, turned her face toward the cliffs opposite, +and uttered a piercing and peculiar call. + +“What is that for?” She did not answer. After waiting a minute, she +repeated the call. Maskull now saw a large bird detach itself from the +top of one of the precipices, and sail slowly down toward them. It was +followed by two others. The flight of these birds was exceedingly slow +and clumsy. + +“What are they?” he asked. + +She still returned no answer, but smiled rather peculiarly and sat down +beside him. Before many minutes he was able to distinguish the shapes +and colors of the flying monsters. They were not birds, but creatures +with long, snakelike bodies, and ten reptilian legs apiece, terminating +in fins which acted as wings. The bodies were of bright blue, the legs +and fins were yellow. They were flying, without haste, but in a somewhat +ominous fashion, straight toward them. He could make out a long, thin +spike projecting from each of the heads. + +“They are shrowks,” explained Oceaxe at last. “If you want to know their +intention, I’ll tell you. To make a meal of us. First of all their +spikes will pierce us, and then their mouths, which are really suckers, +will drain us dry of blood—pretty thoroughly too; there are no half +measures with shrowks. They are toothless beasts, so don’t eat flesh.” + +“As you show such admirable sangfroid,” said Maskull dryly, “I take it +there’s no particular danger.” + +Nevertheless he instinctively tried to get on to his feet and failed. A +new form of paralysis was chaining him to the ground. + +“Are you trying to get up?” asked Oceaxe smoothly. + +“Well, yes, but those cursed reptiles seem to be nailing me down to the +rock with their wills. May I ask if you had any special object in view +in waking them up?” + +“I assure you the danger is quite real, Maskull. Instead of talking and +asking questions, you had much better see what you can do with your +will.” + +“I seem to have no will, unfortunately.” + +Oceaxe was seized with a paroxysm of laughter, but it was still rich and +beautiful. “It’s obvious you aren’t a very heroic protector, Maskull. It +seems I must play the man, and you the woman. I expected better things +of your big body. Why, my husband would send those creatures dancing all +around the sky, by way of a joke, before disposing of them. Now watch +me. Two of the three I’ll kill; the third we will ride home on. Which +one shall we keep?” + +The shrowks continued their slow, wobbling flight toward them. Their +bodies were of huge size. They produced in Maskull the same sensation of +loathing as insects did. He instinctively understood that as they hunted +with their wills, there was no necessity for them to possess a swift +motion. + +“Choose which you please,” he said shortly. “They are equally +objectionable to me.” + +“Then I’ll choose the leader, as it is presumably the most energetic +animal. Watch now.” + +She stood upright, and her sorb suddenly blazed with fire. Maskull felt +something snap inside his brain. His limbs were free once more. The two +monsters in the rear staggered and darted head foremost toward the +earth, one after the other. He watched them crash on the ground, and +then lie motionless. The leader still came toward them, but he fancied +that its flight was altered in character; it was no longer menacing, but +tame and unwilling. + +Oceaxe guided it with her will to the mainland shore opposite their +island rock. Its vast bulk lay there extended, awaiting her pleasure. +They immediately crossed the water. + +Maskull viewed the shrowk at close quarters. It was about thirty feet +long. Its bright-coloured skin was shining, slippery, and leathery; a +mane of black hair covered its long neck. Its face was awesome and +unnatural, with its carnivorous eyes, frightful stiletto, and blood- +sucking cavity. There were true fins on its back and tail. + +“Have you a good seat?” asked Oceaxe, patting the creature’s flank. “As +I have to steer, let me jump on first.” + +She pulled up her gown, then climbed up and sat astride the animal’s +back, just behind the mane, which she clutched. Between her and the fin +there was just room for Maskull. He grasped the two flanks with his +outer hands; his third, new arm pressed against Oceaxe’s back, and for +additional security he was compelled to encircle her waist with it. + +Directly he did so, he realised that he had been tricked, and that this +ride had been planned for one purpose only—to inflame his desires. + +The third arm possessed a function of its own, of which hitherto he had +been ignorant. It was a developed magn. But the stream of love which was +communicated to it was no longer pure and noble—it was boiling, +passionate, and torturing. He gritted his teeth, and kept quiet, but +Oceaxe had not plotted the adventure to remain unconscious of his +feelings. She looked around, with a golden, triumphant smile. “The ride +will last some time, so hold on well!” Her voice was soft like a flute, +but rather malicious. + +Maskull grinned, and said nothing. He dared not remove his arm. + +The shrowk straddled on to its legs. It jerked itself forward, and rose +slowly and uncouthly in the air. They began to paddle upward toward the +painted cliffs. The motion was swaying, rocking, and sickening; the +contact of the brute’s slimy skin was disgusting. All this, however, was +merely background to Maskull, as he sat there with closed eyes, holding +on to Oceaxe. In the front and centre of his consciousness was the +knowledge that he was gripping a fair woman, and that her flesh was +responding to his touch like a lovely harp. + +They climbed up and up. He opened his eyes, and ventured to look around +him. By this time they were already level with the top of the outer +rampart of precipices. There now came in sight a wild archipelago of +islands, with jagged outlines, emerging from a sea of air. The islands +were mountain summits; or, more accurately speaking, the country was a +high tableland, fissured everywhere by narrow and apparently bottomless +cracks. These cracks were in some cases like canals, in others like +lakes, in others merely holes in the ground, closed in all round. The +perpendicular sides of the islands—that is, the upper, visible parts of +the innumerable cliff faces—were of bare rock, gaudily coloured; but the +level surfaces were a tangle of wild plant life. The taller trees alone +were distinguishable from the shrowk’s back. They were of different +shapes, and did not look ancient; they were slender and swaying but did +not appear very graceful; they looked tough, wiry, and savage. + +As Maskull continued to explore the landscape, he forgot Oceaxe and his +passion. Other strange feelings came to the front. The morning was gay +and bright. The sun scorched down, quickly-changing clouds sailed across +the sky, the earth was vivid, wild, and lonely. Yet he experienced no +aesthetic sensations—he felt nothing but an intense longing for action +and possession. When he looked at anything, he immediately wanted to +deal with it. The atmosphere of the land seemed not free, but sticky; +attraction and repulsion were its constituents. Apart from this wish to +play a personal part in what was going on around and beneath him, the +scenery had no significance for him. + +So preoccupied was he, that his arm partly released its clasp. Oceaxe +turned around to gaze at him. Whether or not she was satisfied with what +she saw, she uttered a low laugh, like a peculiar chord. + +“Cold again so quickly, Maskull?” + +“What do you want?” he asked absently, still looking over the side. +“It’s extraordinary how drawn I feel to all this.” + +“You wish to take a hand?” + +“I wish to get down.” + +“Oh, we have a good way to go yet.... So you really feel different?” + +“Different from what? What are you talking about?” said Maskull, still +lost in abstraction. + +Oceaxe laughed again. “It would be strange if we couldn’t make a man of +you, for the material is excellent.” + +After that, she turned her back once more. + +The air islands differed from water islands in another way. They were +not on a plane surface, but sloped upward, like a succession of broken +terraces, as the journey progressed. The shrowk had hitherto been flying +well above the ground; but now, when a new line of towering cliffs +confronted them, Oceaxe did not urge the beast upward, but caused it to +enter a narrow canyon, which intersected the mountains like a channel. +They were instantly plunged into deep shade. The canal was not above +thirty feet wide; the walls stretched upward on both sides for many +hundred feet. It was as cool as an ice chamber. When Maskull attempted +to plumb the chasm with his eyes, he saw nothing but black obscurity. + +“What is at the bottom?” he asked. + +“Death for you, if you go to look for it.” + +“We know that. I mean, is there any kind of life down there?” + +“Not that I have ever heard of,” said Oceaxe, “but of course all things +are possible.” + +“I think very likely there is life,” he returned thoughtfully. + +Her ironical laugh sounded out of the gloom. “Shall we go down and see?” + +“You find that amusing?” + +“No, not that. What I do find amusing is the big stranger with the +beard, who is so keenly interested in everything except himself.” + +Maskull then laughed too. “I happen to be the only thing in Tormance +which is not a novelty for me.” + +“Yes, but I am a novelty for you.” + +The channel went zigzagging its way through the belly of the mountain, +and all the time they were gradually rising. + +“At least I have heard nothing like your voice before,” said Maskull, +who, since he had no longer anything to look at, was at last ready for +conversation. + +“What’s the matter with my voice?” + +“It’s all that I can distinguish of you now; that’s why I mentioned it.” + +“Isn’t it clear—don’t I speak distinctly?” + +“Oh, it’s clear enough, but—it’s inappropriate.” + +“Inappropriate?” + +“I won’t explain further,” said Maskull, “but whether you are speaking +or laughing, your voice is by far the loveliest and strangest instrument +I have ever listened to. And yet I repeat, it is inappropriate.” + +“You mean that my nature doesn’t correspond?” + +He was just considering his reply, when their talk was abruptly broken +off by a huge and terrifying, but not very loud sound rising up from the +gulf directly underneath them. It was a low, grinding, roaring thunder. + +“The ground is rising under us!” cried Oceaxe. + +“Shall we escape?” + +She made no answer, but urged the shrowk’s flight upward, at such a +steep gradient that they retained their seats with difficulty. The floor +of the canyon, upheaved by some mighty subterranean force, could be +heard, and almost felt, coming up after them, like a gigantic landslip +in the wrong direction. The cliffs cracked, and fragments began to fall. +A hundred awful noises filled the air, growing louder and louder each +second—splitting, hissing, cracking, grinding, booming, exploding, +roaring. When they had still fifty feet or so to go, to reach the top, a +sort of dark, indefinite sea of broken rocks and soil appeared under +their feet, ascending rapidly, with irresistible might, accompanied by +the most horrible noises. The canal was filled up for two hundred yards, +before and behind them. Millions of tons of solid matter seemed to be +raised. The shrowk in its ascent was caught by the uplifted debris. +Beast and riders experienced in that moment all the horrors of an +earthquake—they were rolled violently over, and thrown among the rocks +and dirt. All was thunder, instability, motion, confusion. + +Before they had time to realise their position, they were in the +sunlight. The upheaval still continued. In another minute or two the +valley floor had formed a new mountain, a hundred feet or more higher +than the old. Then its movement ceased suddenly. Every noise stopped, as +if by magic; not a rock moved. Oceaxe and Maskull picked themselves up +and examined themselves for cuts and bruises. The shrowk lay on its +side, panting violently, and sweating with fright. + +“That was a nasty affair,” said Maskull, flicking the dirt off his +person. + +Oceaxe staunched a cut on her chin with a corner of her robe. + +“It might have been far worse.... I mean, it’s bad enough to come up, +but it’s death to go down, and that happens just as often.” + +“Whatever induces you to live in such a country?” + +“I don’t know, Maskull. Habit, I suppose. I have often thought of moving +out of it.” + +“A good deal must be forgiven you for having to spend your life in a +place like this, where one is obviously never safe from one minute to +another.” + +“You will learn by degrees,” she answered, smiling. + +She looked hard at the monster, and it got heavily to its feet. + +“Get on again, Maskull!” she directed, climbing back to her perch. “We +haven’t too much time to waste.” + +He obeyed. They resumed their interrupted flight, this time over the +mountains, and in full sunlight. Maskull settled down again to his +thoughts. The peculiar atmosphere of the country continued to soak into +his brain. His will became so restless and uneasy that merely to sit +there in inactivity was a torture. He could scarcely endure not to be +doing something. + +“How secretive you are, Maskull!” said Oceaxe quietly, without turning +her head. + +“What secrets—what do you mean?” + +“Oh, I know perfectly well what’s passing inside you. Now I think it +wouldn’t be amiss to ask you—is friendship still enough?” + +“Oh, don’t ask me anything,” growled Maskull. “I’ve far too many +problems in my head already. I only wish I could answer some of them.” + +He stared stonily at the landscape. The beast was winging its way toward +a distant mountain, of singular shape. It was an enormous natural +quadrilateral pyramid, rising in great terraces and terminating in a +broad, flat top, on which what looked like green snow still lingered. + +“What mountain is that?” he asked. + +“Disscourn. The highest point in Ifdawn.” + +“Are we going there?” + +“Why should we go there? But if you were going on farther, it might be +worth your while to pay a visit to the top. It commands the whole land +as far as the Sinking Sea and Swaylone’s Island—and beyond. You can also +see Alppain from it.” + +“That’s a sight I mean to see before I have finished.” + +“Do you, Maskull?” She turned around and put her hand on his wrist. +“Stay with me, and one day we’ll go to Disscourn together.” + +He grunted unintelligibly. + +There were no signs of human existence in the country under their feet. +While Maskull was still grimly regarding it, a large tract of forest not +far ahead, bearing many trees and rocks, suddenly subsided with an awful +roar and crashed down into an invisible gulf. What was solid land one +minute became a clean-cut chasm the next. He jumped violently up with +the shock. “This is frightful.” + +Oceaxe remained unmoved. + +“Why, life here must be absolutely impossible,” he went on, when he had +somewhat recovered himself. “A man would need nerves of steel.... Is +there no means at all of foreseeing a catastrophe like this?” + +“Oh, I suppose we wouldn’t be alive if there weren’t,” replied Oceaxe, +with composure. “We are more or less clever at it—but that doesn’t +prevent our often getting caught.” + +“You had better teach me the signs.” + +“We’ll have many things to go over together. And among them, I expect, +will be whether we are to stay in the land at all.... But first let us +get home.” + +“How far is it now?” + +“It is right in front of you,” said Oceaxe, pointing with her +forefinger. “You can see it.” + +He followed the direction of the finger and, after a few questions, made +out the spot she was indicating. It was a broad peninsula, about two +miles distant. Three of its sides rose sheer out of a lake of air, the +bottom of which was invisible; its fourth was a bottleneck, joining it +to the mainland. It was overgrown with bright vegetation, distinct in +the brilliant atmosphere. A single tall tree, shooting up in the middle +of the peninsula, dwarfed everything else; it was wide and shady with +sea-green leaves. + +“I wonder if Crimtyphon is there,” remarked Oceaxe. “Can I see two +figures, or am I mistaken?” + +“I also see something,” said Maskull. + +In twenty minutes they were directly above the peninsula, at a height of +about fifty feet. The shrowk slackened speed, and came to earth on the +mainland, exactly at the gateway of the isthmus. They both +descended—Maskull with aching thighs. + +“What shall we do with the monster?” asked Oceaxe. Without waiting for a +suggestion, she patted its hideous face with her hand. “Fly away home! I +may want you some other time.” + +It gave a stupid grunt, elevated itself on its legs again, and, after +half running, half flying for a few yards, rose awkwardly into the air, +and paddled away in the same direction from which they had come. They +watched it out of sight, and then Oceaxe started to cross the neck of +land, followed by Maskull. + +Branchspell’s white rays beat down on them with pitiless force. The sky +had by degrees become cloudless, and the wind had dropped entirely. The +ground was a rich riot of vividly coloured ferns, shrubs, and grasses. +Through these could be seen here and there the golden chalky soil—and +occasionally a glittering, white metallic boulder. Everything looked +extraordinary and barbaric. Maskull was at last walking in the weird +Ifdawn Marest which had created such strange feelings in him when seen +from a distance.... And now he felt no wonder or curiosity at all, but +only desired to meet human beings—so intense had grown his will. He +longed to test his powers on his fellow creatures, and nothing else +seemed of the least importance to him. + +On the peninsula all was coolness and delicate shade. It resembled a +large copse, about two acres in extent. In the heart of the tangle of +small trees and undergrowth was a partially cleared space—perhaps the +roots of the giant tree growing in the centre had killed off the smaller +fry all around it. By the side of the tree sparkled a little, bubbling +fountain, whose water was iron-red. The precipices on all sides, +overhung with thorns, flowers, and creepers, invested the enclosure with +an air of wild and charming seclusion—a mythological mountain god might +have dwelt here. + +Maskull’s restless eye left everything, to fall on the two men who +formed the centre of the picture. + +One was reclining, in the ancient Grecian fashion of banqueters on a +tall couch of mosses, sprinkled with flowers; he rested on one arm, and +was eating a kind of plum, with calm enjoyment. A pile of these plums +lay on the couch beside him. The over-spreading branches of the tree +completely sheltered him from the sun. His small, boyish form was clad +in a rough skin, leaving his limbs naked. Maskull could not tell from +his face whether he were a young boy or a grown man. The features were +smooth, soft, and childish, their expression was seraphically tranquil; +but his violet upper eye was sinister and adult. His skin was of the +colour of yellow ivory. His long, curling hair matched his sorb—it was +violet. The second man was standing erect before the other, a few feet +away from him. He was short and muscular, his face was broad, bearded, +and rather commonplace, but there was something terrible about his +appearance. The features were distorted by a deep-seated look of pain, +despair, and horror. + +Oceaxe, without pausing, strolled lightly and lazily up to the outermost +shadows of the tree, some distance from the couch. + +“We have met with an uplift,” she remarked carelessly, looking toward +the youth. + +He eyed her, but said nothing. + +“How is your plant man getting on?” Her tone was artificial but +extremely beautiful. While waiting for an answer, she sat down on the +ground, her legs gracefully thrust under her body, and pulled down the +skirt of her robe. Maskull remained standing just behind her, with +crossed arms. + +There was silence for a minute. + +“Why don’t you answer your mistress, Sature?” said the boy on the couch, +in a calm, treble voice. + +The man addressed did not alter his expression, but replied in a +strangled tone, “I am getting on very well, Oceaxe. There are already +buds on my feet. Tomorrow I hope to take root.” + +Maskull felt a rising storm inside him. He was perfectly aware that +although these words were uttered by Sature, they were being dictated by +the boy. + +“What he says is quite true,” remarked the latter. “Tomorrow roots will +reach the ground, and in a few days they ought to be well established. +Then I shall set to work to convert his arms into branches, and his +fingers into leaves. It will take longer to transform his head into a +crown, but still I hope—in fact I can almost promise that within a month +you and I, Oceaxe, will be plucking and enjoying fruit from this new and +remarkable tree.” + +“I love these natural experiments,” he concluded, putting out his hand +for another plum. “They thrill me.” + +“This must be a joke,” said Maskull, taking a step forward. + +The youth looked at him serenely. He made no reply, but Maskull felt as +if he were being thrust backward by an iron hand on his throat. + +“The morning’s work is now concluded, Sature. Come here again after +Blodsombre. After tonight you will remain here permanently, I expect, so +you had better set to work to clear a patch of ground for your roots. +Never forget—however fresh and charming these plants appear to you now, +in the future they will be your deadliest rivals and enemies. Now you +may go.” + +The man limped painfully away, across the isthmus, out of sight. Oceaxe +yawned. + +Maskull pushed his way forward, as if against a wall. “Are you joking, +or are you a devil?” + +“I am Crimtyphon. I never joke. For that epithet of yours, I will devise +a new punishment for you.” + +The duel of wills commenced without ceremony. Oceaxe got up, stretched +her beautiful limbs, smiled, and prepared herself to witness the +struggle between her old lover and her new. Crimtyphon smiled too; he +reached out his hand for more fruit, but did not eat it. Maskull’s self- +control broke down and he dashed at the boy, choking with red fury—his +beard wagged and his face was crimson. When he realised with whom he had +to deal, Crimtyphon left off smiling, slipped off the couch, and threw a +terrible and malignant glare into his sorb. Maskull staggered. He +gathered together all the brute force of his will, and by sheer weight +continued his advance. The boy shrieked and ran behind the couch, trying +to get away.... His opposition suddenly collapsed. Maskull stumbled +forward, recovered himself, and then vaulted clear over the high pile of +mosses, to get at his antagonist. He fell on top of him with all his +bulk. Grasping his throat, he pulled his little head completely around, +so that the neck was broken. Crimtyphon immediately died. + +The corpse lay underneath the tree with its face upturned. Maskull +viewed it attentively, and as he did so an expression of awe and wonder +came into his own countenance. In the moment of death Crimtyphon’s face +had undergone a startling and even shocking alteration. Its personal +character had wholly vanished, giving place to a vulgar, grinning mask +which expressed nothing. + +He did not have to search his mind long, to remember where he had seen +the brother of that expression. It was identical with that on the face +of the apparition at the siance, after Krag had dealt with it. + + + +Chapter 10. TYDOMIN + +Oceaxe sat down carelessly on the couch of mosses, and began eating the +plums. + +“You see, you had to kill him, Maskull,” she said, in a rather quizzical +voice. + +He came away from the corpse and regarded her—still red, and still +breathing hard. “It’s no joking matter. You especially ought to keep +quiet.” + +“Why?” + +“Because he was your husband.” + +“You think I ought to show grief—when I feel none?” + +“Don’t pretend, woman!” + +Oceaxe smiled. “From your manner one would think you were accusing me of +some crime.” + +Maskull literally snorted at her words. “What, you live with filth—you +live in the arms of a morbid monstrosity and then—” + +“Oh, now I grasp it,” she said, in a tone of perfect detachment. + +“I’m glad.” + +“Well, Maskull,” she proceeded, after a pause, “and who gave you the +right to rule my conduct? Am I not mistress of my own person?” + +He looked at her with disgust, but said nothing. There was another long +interval of silence. + +“I never loved him,” said Oceaxe at last, looking at the ground. + +“That makes it all the worse.” + +“What does all this mean—what do you want?” + +“Nothing from you—absolutely nothing—thank heaven!” + +She gave a hard laugh. “You come here with your foreign preconceptions +and expect us all to bow down to them.” + +“What preconceptions?” + +“Just because Crimtyphon’s sports are strange to you, you murder him—and +you would like to murder me.” + +“Sports! That diabolical cruelty.” + +“Oh, you’re sentimental!” said Oceaxe contemptuously. “Why do you need +to make such a fuss over that man? Life is life, all the world over, and +one form is as good as another. He was only to be made a tree, like a +million other trees. If they can endure the life, why can’t he?” + +“And this is Ifdawn morality!” + +Oceaxe began to grow angry. “It’s you who have peculiar ideas. You rave +about the beauty of flowers and trees—you think them divine. But when +it’s a question of taking on this divine, fresh, pure, enchanting +loveliness yourself, in your own person, it immediately becomes a cruel +and wicked degradation. Here we have a strange riddle, in my opinion.” + +“Oceaxe, you’re a beautiful, heartless wild beast—nothing more. If you +weren’t a woman—” + +“Well”—curling her lip—“let us hear what would happen if I weren’t a +woman?” + +Maskull bit his nails. + +“It doesn’t matter. I can’t touch you—though there’s certainly not the +difference of a hair between you and your boy-husband. For this you may +thank my ‘foreign preconceptions.’... Farewell!” + +He turned to go. Oceaxe’s eyes slanted at him through their long lashes. + +“Where are you off to, Maskull?” + +“That’s a matter of no importance, for wherever I go it must be a change +for the better. You walking whirlpools of crime!” + +“Wait a minute. I only want to say this. Blodsombre is just starting, +and you had better stay here till the afternoon. We can quickly put that +body out of sight, and, as you seem to detest me so much, the place is +big enough—we needn’t talk, or even see each other.” + +“I don’t wish to breathe the same air.” + +“Singular man!” She was sitting erect and motionless, like a beautiful +statue. “And what of your wonderful interview with Surtur, and all the +undone things which you set out to do?” + +“You aren’t the one I shall speak to about that. But”—he eyed her +meditatively—“while I’m still here you can tell me this. What’s the +meaning of the expression on that corpse’s face?” + +“Is that another crime, Maskull? All dead people look like that. Ought +they not to?” + +“I once heard it called ‘Crystalman’s face.’” + +“Why not? We are all daughters and sons of Crystalman. It is doubtless +the family resemblance.” + +“It has also been told me that Surtur and Crystalman are one and the +same.” + +“You have wise and truthful acquaintances.” + +“Then how could it have been Surtur whom I saw?” said Maskull, more to +himself than to her. “That apparition was something quite different.” + +She dropped her mocking manner and, sliding imperceptibly toward him, +gently pulled his arm. + +“You see—we have to talk. Sit down beside me, and ask me your questions. +I’m not excessively smart, but I’ll try to be of assistance.” + +Maskull permitted himself to be dragged down with soft violence. She +bent toward him, as if confidentially, and contrived that her sweet, +cool, feminine breath should fan his cheek. + +“Aren’t you here to alter the evil to the good, Maskull? Then what does +it matter who sent you?” + +“What can you possibly know of good and evil?” + +“Are you only instructing the initiated?” + +“Who am I, to instruct anybody? However, you’re quite right. I wish to +do what I can—not because I am qualified, but because I am here.” + +Oceaxe’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re a giant, both in body and +soul. What you want to do, you can do.” + +“Is that your honest opinion, or are you flattering me for your own +ends?” + +She sighed. “Don’t you see how difficult you are making the +conversation? Let’s talk about your work, not about ourselves.” + +Maskull suddenly noticed a strange blue light glowing in the northern +sky. It was from Alppain, but Alppain itself was behind the hills. While +he was observing it, a peculiar wave of self-denial, of a disquieting +nature, passed through him. He looked at Oceaxe, and it struck him for +the first time that he was being unnecessarily brutal to her. He had +forgotten that she was a woman, and defenceless. + +“Won’t you stay?” she asked all of a sudden, quite openly and frankly. + +“Yes, I think I’ll stay,” he replied slowly. “And another thing, +Oceaxe—if I’ve misjudged your character, pray forgive me. I’m a hasty, +passionate man.” + +“There are enough easygoing men. Hard knocks are a good medicine for +vicious hearts. And you didn’t misjudge my character, as far as you +went—only, every woman has more than one character. Don’t you know +that?” + +During the pause that followed, a snapping of twigs was heard, and both +looked around, startled. They saw a woman stepping slowly across the +neck that separated them from the mainland. + +“Tydomin,” muttered Oceaxe, in a vexed, frightened voice. She +immediately moved away from Maskull and stood up. + +The newcomer was of middle height, very slight and graceful. She was no +longer quite young. Her face wore the composure of a woman who knows her +way about the world. It was intensely pale, and under its quiescence +there just was a glimpse of something strange and dangerous. It was +curiously alluring, though not exactly beautiful. Her hair was +clustering and boyish, reaching only to the neck. It was of a strange +indigo colour. She was quaintly attired in a tunic and breeches, pieced +together from the square, blue-green plates of some reptile. Her small, +ivory-white breasts were exposed. Her sorb was black and sad—rather +contemplative. + +Without once glancing up at Oceaxe and Maskull, she quietly glided +straight toward Crimtyphon’s corpse. When she arrived within a few feet +of it, she stopped and looked down, with arms folded. + +Oceaxe drew Maskull a little away, and whispered, “It’s Crimtyphon’s +other wife, who lives under Disscourn. She’s a most dangerous woman. Be +careful what you say. If she asks you to do anything, refuse it +outright.” + +“The poor soul looks harmless enough.” + +“Yes, she does—but the poor soul is quite capable of swallowing up Krag +himself.... Now, play the man.” + +The murmur of their voices seemed to attract Tydomin’s notice, for she +now slowly turned her eyes toward them. + +“Who killed him?” she demanded. + +Her voice was so soft, low, and refined, that Maskull hardly was able to +catch the words. The sounds, however, lingered in his ears, and +curiously enough seemed to grow stronger, instead of fainter. + +Oceaxe whispered, “Don’t say a word, leave it all to me.” Then she swung +her body around to face Tydomin squarely, and said aloud, “I killed +him.” + +Tydomin’s words by this time were ringing in Maskull’s head like an +actual physical sound. There was no question of being able to ignore +them; he had to make an open confession of his act, whatever the +consequences might be. Quietly taking Oceaxe by the shoulder and putting +her behind him, he said in a low, but perfectly distinct voice, “It was +I that killed Crimtyphon.” + +Oceaxe looked both haughty and frightened. “Maskull says that so as to +shield me, as he thinks. I require no shield, Maskull. I killed him, +Tydomin.” + +“I believe you, Oceaxe. You did murder him. Not with your own strength, +for you brought this man along for the purpose.” + +Maskull took a couple of steps toward Tydomin. “It’s of little +consequence who killed him, for he’s better dead than alive, in my +opinion. Still, I did it. Oceaxe had no hand in the affair.” + +Tydomin appeared not to hear him—she looked beyond him at Oceaxe +musingly. “When you murdered him, didn’t it occur to you that I would +come here, to find out?” + +“I never once thought of you,” replied Oceaxe, with an angry laugh. “Do +you really imagine that I carry your image with me wherever I go?” + +“If someone were to murder your lover here, what would you do?” + +“Lying hypocrite!” Oceaxe spat out. “You never were in love with +Crimtyphon. You always hated me, and now you think it an excellent +opportunity to make it good... now that Crimtyphon’s gone.... For we +both know he would have made a footstool of you, if I had asked him. He +worshiped me, but he laughed at you. He thought you ugly.” + +Tydomin flashed a quick, gentle smile at Maskull. “Is it necessary for +you to listen to all this?” + +Without question, and feeling it the right thing to do, he walked away +out of earshot. + +Tydomin approached Oceaxe. “Perhaps because my beauty fades and I’m no +longer young, I needed him all the more.” + +Oceaxe gave a kind of snarl. “Well, he’s dead, and that’s the end of it. +What are you going to do now, Tydomin?” + +The other woman smiled faintly and rather pathetically. “There’s nothing +left to do, except mourn the dead. You won’t grudge me that last +office?” + +“Do you want to stay here?” demanded Oceaxe suspiciously. + +“Yes, Oceaxe dear, I wish to be alone.” + +“Then what is to become of us?” + +“I thought that you and your lover—what is his name?” + +“Maskull.” + +“I thought that perhaps you two would go to Disscourn, and spend +Blodsombre at my home.” + +Oceaxe called out aloud to Maskull, “Will you come with me now to +Disscourn?” + +“If you wish,” returned Maskull. + +“Go first, Oceaxe. I must question your friend about Crimtyphon’s death. +I won’t keep him.” + +“Why don’t you question me, rather?” demanded Oceaxe, looking up +sharply. + +Tydomin gave the shadow of a smile. “We know each other too well.” + +“Play no tricks!” said Oceaxe, and she turned to go. + +“Surely you must be dreaming,” said Tydomin. “That’s the way—unless you +want to walk over the cliffside.” + +The path Oceaxe had chosen led across the isthmus. The direction which +Tydomin proposed for her was over the edge of the precipice, into empty +space. + +“Shaping! I must be mad,” cried Oceaxe, with a laugh. And she obediently +followed the other’s finger. + +She walked straight on toward the edge of the abyss, twenty paces away. +Maskull pulled his beard around, and wondered what she was doing. +Tydomin remained standing with outstretched finger, watching her. +Without hesitation, without slackening her step once, Oceaxe strolled +on—and when she had reached the extreme end of the land she still took +one more step. + +Maskull saw her limbs wrench as she stumbled over the edge. Her body +disappeared, and as it did so an awful shriek sounded. + +Disillusionment had come to her an instant too late. He tore himself out +of his stupor, rushed to the edge of the cliff, threw himself on the +ground recklessly, and looked over.... Oceaxe had vanished. + +He continued staring wildly down for several minutes, and then began to +sob. Tydomin came up to him, and he got to his feet. + +The blood kept rushing to his face and leaving it again. It was some +time before he could speak at all. Then he brought out the words with +difficulty. “You shall pay for this, Tydomin. But first I want to hear +why you did it.” + +“Hadn’t I cause?” she asked, standing with downcast eyes. + +“Was it pure fiendishness?” + +“It was for Crimtyphon’s sake.” + +“She had nothing to do with that death. I told you so.” + +“You are loyal to her, and I’m loyal to him.” + +“Loyal? You’ve made a terrible blunder. She wasn’t my mistress. I killed +Crimtyphon for quite another reason. She had absolutely no part in it.” + +“Wasn’t she your lover?” asked Tydomin slowly. + +“You’ve made a terrible mistake,” repeated Maskull. “I killed him +because he was a wild beast. She was as innocent of his death as you +are.” + +Tydomin’s face took on a hard look. “So you are guilty of two deaths.” + +There was a dreadful silence. + +“Why couldn’t you believe me?” asked Maskull, who was pale and sweating +painfully. + +“Who gave you the right to kill him?” demanded Tydomin sternly. + +He said nothing, and perhaps did not hear her question. + +She sighed two or three times and began to stir restlessly. “Since you +murdered him, you must help me bury him.” + +“What’s to be done? This is a most fearful crime.” + +“You are a most fearful man. Why did you come here, to do all this? What +are we to you?” + +“Unfortunately you are right.” + +Another pause ensued. + +“It’s no use standing here,” said Tydomin. “Nothing can be done. You +must come with me.” + +“Come with you? Where to?” + +“To Disscourn. There’s a burning lake on the far side of it. He always +wished to be cast there after death. We can do that after Blodsombre—in +the meantime we must take him home.” + +“You’re a callous, heartless woman. Why should he be buried when that +poor girl must remain unburied?” + +“You know that’s out of the question,” replied Tydomin quietly. + +Maskull’s eyes roamed about agitatedly, apparently seeing nothing. + +“We must do something,” she continued. “I shall go. You can’t wish to +stay here alone?” + +“No, I couldn’t stay here—and why should I want to? You want me to carry +the corpse?” + +“He can’t carry himself, and you murdered him. Perhaps it will ease your +mind to carry it.” + +“Ease my mind?” said Maskull, rather stupidly. + +“There’s only one relief for remorse, and that’s voluntary pain.” + +“And have you no remorse?” he asked, fixing her with a heavy eye. + +“These crimes are yours, Maskull,” she said in a low but incisive voice. + +They walked over to Crimtyphon’s body, and Maskull hoisted it on to his +shoulders. It weighed heavier than he had thought. Tydomin did not offer +to assist him to adjust the ghastly burden. + +She crossed the isthmus, followed by Maskull. Their path lay through +sunshine and shadow. Branchspell was blazing in a cloudless sky, the +heat was insufferable—streams of sweat coursed down his face, and the +corpse seemed to grow heavier and heavier. Tydomin always walked in +front of him. His eyes were fastened in an unseeing stare on her white, +womanish calves; he looked neither to right nor left. His features grew +sullen. At the end of ten minutes he suddenly allowed his burden to slip +off his shoulders on to the ground, where it lay sprawled every which +way. He called out to Tydomin. + +She quickly looked around. + +“Come here. It has just occurred to me”—he laughed—“why should I be +carrying this corpse—and why should I be following you at all? What +surprises me is, why this has never struck me before.” + +She at once came back to him. “I suppose you’re tired, Maskull. Let us +sit down. Perhaps you have come a long way this morning?” + +“Oh, it’s not tiredness, but a sudden gleam of sense. Do you know of any +reason why I should be acting as your porter?” He laughed again, but +nevertheless sat down on the ground beside her. + +Tydomin neither looked at him nor answered. Her head was half bent, so +as to face the northern sky, where the Alppain light was still glowing. +Maskull followed her gaze, and also watched the glow for a moment or two +in silence. + +“Why don’t you speak?” he asked at last. + +“What does that light suggest to you, Maskull?” + +“I’m not speaking of that light.” + +“Doesn’t it suggest anything at all?” + +“Perhaps it doesn’t. What does it matter?” + +“Not sacrifice?” + +Maskull grew sullen again. “Sacrifice of what? What do you mean?” + +“Hasn’t it entered your head yet,” said Tydomin, looking straight in +front of her, and speaking in her delicate, hard manner, “that this +adventure of yours will scarcely come to an end until you have made some +sort of sacrifice?” + +He returned no answer, and she said nothing more. In a few minutes’ time +Maskull got up of his own accord, and irreverently, and almost angrily, +threw Crimtyphon’s corpse over his shoulder again. + +“How far do we have to go?” he asked in a surly tone. + +“An hour’s walk.” + +“Lead on.” + +“Still, this isn’t the sacrifice I mean,” said Tydomin quietly, as she +went on in front. + +Almost immediately they reached more difficult ground. They had to pass +from peak to peak, as from island to island. In some cases they were +able to stride or jump across, but in others they had to make use of +rude bridges of fallen timber. It appeared to be a frequented path. +Underneath were the black, impenetrable abysses—on the surface were the +glaring sunshine, the gay, painted rocks, the chaotic tangle of strange +plants. There were countless reptiles and insects. The latter were +thicker built than those of Earth—consequently still more disgusting, +and some of them were of enormous size. One monstrous insect, as large +as a horse, stood right in the centre of their path without budging. It +was armour-plated, had jaws like scimitars, and underneath its body was +a forest of legs. Tydomin gave one malignant look at it, and sent it +crashing into the gulf. + +“What have I to offer, except my life?” Maskull suddenly broke out. “And +what good is that? It won’t bring that poor girl back into the world.” + +“Sacrifice is not for utility. It’s a penalty which we pay.” + +“I know that.” + +“The point is whether you can go on enjoying life, after what has +happened.” + +She waited for Maskull to come even with her. + +“Perhaps you imagine I’m not man enough—you imagine that because I +allowed poor Oceaxe to die for me—” + +“She did die for you,” said Tydomin, in a quiet, emphatic voice. + +“That would be a second blunder of yours,” returned Maskull, just as +firmly. “I was not in love with Oceaxe, and I’m not in love with life.” + +“Your life is not required.” + +“Then I don’t understand what you want, or what you are speaking about.” + +“It’s not for me to ask a sacrifice from you, Maskull. That would be +compliance on your part, but not sacrifice. You must wait until you feel +there’s nothing else for you to do.” + +“It’s all very mysterious.” + +The conversation was abruptly cut short by a prolonged and frightful +crashing, roaring sound, coming from a short distance ahead. It was +accompanied by a violent oscillation of the ground on which they stood. +They looked up, startled, just in time to witness the final +disappearance of a huge mass of forest land, not two hundred yards in +front of them. Several acres of trees, plants, rocks, and soil, with all +its teeming animal life, vanished before their eyes, like a magic story. +The new chasm was cut, as if by a knife. Beyond its farther edge the +Alppain glow burned blue just over the horizon. + +“Now we shall have to make a detour,” said Tydomin, halting. + +Maskull caught hold of her with his third hand. “Listen to me, while I +try to describe what I’m feeling. When I saw that landslip, everything I +have heard about the last destruction of the world came into my mind. It +seemed to me as if I were actually witnessing it, and that the world +were really falling to pieces. Then, where the land was, we now have +this empty, awful gulf—that’s to say, nothing—and it seems to me as if +our life will come to the same condition, where there was something +there will be nothing. But that terrible blue glare on the opposite side +is exactly like the eye of fate. It accuses us, and demands what we have +made of our life, which is no more. At the same time, it is grand and +joyful. The joy consists in this—that it is in our power to give freely +what will later on be taken from us by force.” + +Tydomin watched him attentively. “Then your feeling is that your life is +worthless, and you make a present of it to the first one who asks?” + +“No, it goes beyond that. I feel that the only thing worth living for is +to be so magnanimous that fate itself will be astonished at us. +Understand me. It isn’t cynicism, or bitterness, or despair, but +heroism.... It’s hard to explain.” + +“Now you shall hear what sacrifice I offer you, Maskull. It’s a heavy +one, but that’s what you seem to wish.” + +“That is so. In my present mood it can’t be too heavy.” + +“Then, if you are in earnest, resign your body to me. Now that +Crimtyphon’s dead, I’m tired of being a woman.” + +“I fail to comprehend.” + +“Listen, then. I wish to start a new existence in your body. I wish to +be a male. I see it isn’t worth while being a woman. I mean to dedicate +my own body to Crimtyphon. I shall tie his body and mine together, and +give them a common funeral in the burning lake. That’s the sacrifice I +offer you. As I said, it’s a hard one.” + +“So you do ask me to die. Though how you can make use of my body is +difficult to understand.” + +“No, I don’t ask you to die. You will go on living.” + +“How is it possible without a body?” + +Tydomin gazed at him earnestly. “There are many such beings, even in +your world. There you call them spirits, apparitions, phantoms. They are +in reality living wills, deprived of material bodies, always longing to +act and enjoy, but quite unable to do so. Are you noble-minded enough to +accept such a state, do you think?” + +“If it’s possible, I accept it,” replied Maskull quietly. “Not in spite +of its heaviness, but because of it. But how is it possible?” + +“Undoubtedly there are very many things possible in our world of which +you have no conception. Now let us wait till we get home. I don’t hold +you to your word, for unless it’s a free sacrifice I will have nothing +to do with it.” + +“I am not a man who speaks lightly. If you can perform this miracle, you +have my consent, once for all.” + +“Then we’ll leave it like that for the present,” said Tydomin sadly. + +They proceeded on their way. Owing to the subsidence, Tydomin seemed +rather doubtful at first as to the right road, but by making a long +divergence they eventually got around to the other side of the newly +formed chasm. A little later on, in a narrow copse crowning a miniature, +insulated peak, they fell in with a man. He was resting himself against +a tree, and looked tired, overheated, and despondent. He was young. His +beardless expression bore an expression of unusual sincerity, and in +other respects he seemed a hardy, hardworking youth, of an intellectual +type. His hair was thick, short, and flaxen. He possessed neither a sorb +nor a third arm—so presumably he was not a native of Ifdawn. His +forehead, however, was disfigured by what looked like a haphazard +assortment of eyes, eight in number, of different sizes and shapes. They +went in pairs, and whenever two were in use, it was indicated by a +peculiar shining—the rest remained dull, until their turn came. In +addition to the upper eyes he had the two lower ones, but they were +vacant and lifeless. This extraordinary battery of eyes, alternatively +alive and dead, gave the young man an appearance of almost alarming +mental activity. He was wearing nothing but a sort of skin kilt. Maskull +seemed somehow to recognise the face, though he had certainly never set +eyes on it before. + +Tydomin suggested to him to set down the corpse, and both sat down to +rest in the shade. + +“Question him, Maskull,” she said, rather carelessly, jerking her head +toward the stranger. + +Maskull sighed and asked aloud, from his seat on the ground, “What’s +your name, and where do you come from?” + +The man studied him for a few moments, first with one pair of eyes, then +with another, then with a third. He next turned his attention to +Tydomin, who occupied him a still longer time. He replied at last, in a +dry, manly, nervous voice. “I am Digrung. I have arrived here from +Matterplay.” His colour kept changing, and Maskull suddenly realised of +whom he reminded him. It was of Joiwind. + +“Perhaps you’re going to Poolingdred, Digrung?” he inquired, interested. + +“As a matter of fact I am—if I can find my way out of this accursed +country.” + +“Possibly you are acquainted with Joiwind there?” + +“She’s my sister. I’m on my way to see her now. Why, do you know her?” + +“I met her yesterday.” + +“What is your name, then?” + +“Maskull.” + +“I shall tell her I met you. This will be our first meeting for four +years. Is she well, and happy?” + +“Both, as far as I could judge. You know Panawe?” + +“Her husband—yes. But where do you come from? I’ve seen nothing like you +before.” + +“From another world. Where is Matterplay?” + +“It’s the first country one comes to beyond the Sinking Sea.” + +“What is it like there—how do you amuse yourselves? The same old murders +and sudden deaths?” + +“Are you ill?” asked Digrung. “Who is this woman, why are you following +at her heels like a slave? She looks insane to me. What’s that +corpse—why are you dragging it around the country with you?” + +Tydomin smiled. “I’ve already heard it said about Matterplay, that if +one sows an answer there, a rich crop of questions immediately springs +up. But why do you make this unprovoked attack on me, Digrung?” + +“I don’t attack you, woman, but I know you. I see into you, and I see +insanity. That wouldn’t matter, but I don’t like to see a man of +intelligence like Maskull caught in your filthy meshes.” + +“I suppose even you clever Matterplay people sometimes misjudge +character. However, I don’t mind. Your opinion’s nothing to me, Digrung. +You’d better answer his questions, Maskull. Not for his own sake—but +your feminine friend is sure to be curious about your having been seen +carrying a dead man.” + +Maskull’s underlip shot out. “Tell your sister nothing, Digrung. Don’t +mention my name at all. I don’t want her to know about this meeting of +ours.” + +“Why not?” + +“I don’t wish it—isn’t that enough?” + +Digrung looked impassive. + +“Thoughts and words,” he said, “which don’t correspond with the real +events of the world are considered most shameful in Matterplay.” + +“I’m not asking you to lie, only to keep silent.” + +“To hide the truth is a special branch of lying. I can’t accede to your +wish. I must tell Joiwind everything, as far as I know it.” + +Maskull got up, and Tydomin followed his example. + +She touched Digrung on the arm and gave him a strange look. “The dead +man is my husband, and Maskull murdered him. Now you’ll understand why +he wishes you to hold your tongue.” + +“I guessed there was some foul play,” said Digrung. “It doesn’t matter—I +can’t falsify facts. Joiwind must know.” + +“You refuse to consider her feelings?” said Maskull, turning pale. + +“Feelings which flourish on illusions, and sicken and die on realities, +aren’t worth considering. But Joiwind’s are not of that kind.” + +“If you decline to do what I ask, at least return home without seeing +her; your sister will get very little pleasure out of the meeting when +she hears your news.” + +“What are these strange relations between you?” demanded Digrung, eying +him with suddenly aroused suspicion. + +Maskull stared back in a sort of bewilderment. “Good God! You don’t +doubt your own sister. That pure angel!” + +Tydomin caught hold of him delicately. “I don’t know Joiwind, but, +whoever she is and whatever she’s like, I know this—she’s more fortunate +in her friend than in her brother. Now, if you really value her +happiness, Maskull, you will have to take some firm step or other.” + +“I mean to. Digrung, I shall stop your journey.” + +“If you intend a second murder, no doubt you are big enough.” + +Maskull turned around to Tydomin and laughed. “I seem to be leaving a +wake of corpses behind me on this journey.” + +“Why a corpse? There’s no need to kill him.” + +“Thanks for that!” said Digrung dryly. “All the same, some crime is +about to burst. I feel it.” + +“What must I do, then?” asked Maskull. + +“It is not my business, and to tell the truth I am not very +interested.... If I were in your place, Maskull, I would not hesitate +long. Don’t you understand how to absorb these creatures, who set their +feeble, obstinate wills against yours?” + +“That is a worse crime,” said Maskull. + +“Who knows? He will live, but he will tell no tales.” + +Digrung laughed, but changed colour. “I was right then. The monster has +sprung into the light of day.” + +Maskull laid a hand on his shoulder. “You have the choice, and we are +not joking. Do as I ask.” + +“You have fallen low, Maskull. But you are walking in a dream, and I +can’t talk to you. As for you, woman—sin must be like a pleasant bath to +you....” + +“There are strange ties between Maskull and myself; but you are a +passer-by, a foreigner. I care nothing for you.” + +“Nevertheless, I shall not be frightened out of my plans, which are +legitimate and right.” + +“Do as you please,” said Tydomin. “If you come to grief, your thoughts +will hardly have corresponded with the real events of the world, which +is what you boast about. It is no affair of mine.” + +“I shall go on, and not back!” exclaimed Digrung, with angry emphasis. + +Tydomin threw a swift, evil smile at Maskull. “Bear witness that I have +tried to persuade this young man. Now you must come to a quick decision +in your own mind as to which is of the greatest importance, Digrung’s +happiness or Joiwind’s. Digrung won’t allow you to preserve them both.” + +“It won’t take me long to decide, Digrung, I gave you a last chance to +change your mind.” + +“As long as it’s in my power I shall go on, and warn my sister against +her criminal friends.” + +Maskull again clutched at him, but this time with violence. Instructed +in his actions by some new and horrible instinct, he pressed the young +man tightly to his body with all three arms. A feeling of wild, sweet +delight immediately passed through him. Then for the first time he +comprehended the triumphant joys of “absorbing.” It satisfied the hunger +of the will, exactly as food satisfies the hunger of the body. Digrung +proved feeble—he made little opposition. His personality passed slowly +and evenly into Maskull’s. The latter became strong and gorged. The +victim gradually became paler and limper, until Maskull held a corpse in +his arms. He dropped the body, and stood trembling. He had committed his +second crime. He felt no immediate difference in his soul, but... + +Tydomin shed a sad smile on him, like winter sunshine. He half expected +her to speak, but she said nothing. Instead, she made a sign to him to +pick up Crimtyphon’s corpse. As he obeyed, he wondered why Digrung’s +dead face did not wear the frightful Crystalman mask. + +“Why hasn’t he altered?” he muttered to himself. + +Tydomin heard him. She kicked Digrung lightly with her little foot. “He +isn’t dead—that’s why. The expression you mean is waiting for your +death.” + +“Then is that my real character?” + +She laughed softly. “You came here to carve a strange world, and now it +appears you are carved yourself. Oh, there’s no doubt about it, Maskull. +You needn’t stand there gaping. You belong to Shaping, like the rest of +us. You are not a king, or a god.” + +“Since when have I belonged to him?” + +“What does that matter? Perhaps since you first breathed the air of +Tormance, or perhaps since five minutes ago.” + +Without waiting for his response, she set off through the copse, and +strode on to the next island. Maskull followed, physically distressed +and looking very grave. + +The journey continued for half an hour longer, without incident. The +character of the scenery slowly changed. The mountaintops became loftier +and more widely separated from one another. The gaps were filled with +rolling, white clouds, which bathed the shores of the peaks like a +mysterious sea. To pass from island to island was hard work, the +intervening spaces were so wide—Tydomin, however, knew the way. The +intense light, the violet-blue sky, the patches of vivid landscape, +emerging from the white vapour-ocean, made a profound impression on +Maskull’s mind. The glow of Alppain was hidden by the huge mass of +Disscourn, which loomed up straight in front of them. + +The green snow on the top of the gigantic pyramid had by now completely +melted away. The black, gold, and crimson of its mighty cliffs stood out +with terrific brilliance. They were directly beneath the bulk of the +mountain, which was not a mile away. It did not appear dangerous to +climb, but he was unaware on which side of it their destination lay. + +It was split from top to bottom by numerous straight fissures. A few +pale-green waterfalls descended here and there, like narrow, motionless +threads. The face of the mountain was rugged and bare. It was strewn +with detached boulders, and great, jagged rocks projected everywhere +like iron teeth. Tydomin pointed to a small black hole near the base, +which might be a cave. “That is where I live.” + +“You live here alone?” + +“Yes.” + +“It’s an odd choice for a woman—and you are not unbeautiful, either.” + +“A woman’s life is over at twenty-five,” she replied, sighing. “And I am +far older than that. Ten years ago it would have been I who lived +yonder, and not Oceaxe. Then all this wouldn’t have happened.” + +***** + +A quarter of an hour later they stood within the mouth of the cave. It +was ten feet high, and its interior was impenetrably black. + +“Put down the body in the entrance, out of the sun,” directed Tydomin. +He did so. + +She cast a keenly scrutinising glance at him. “Does your resolution +still hold, Maskull?” + +“Why shouldn’t it hold? My brains are not feathers.” + +“Follow me, then.” + +They both stepped into the cave. At that very moment a sickening crash, +like heavy thunder just over their heads, set Maskull’s weakened heart +thumping violently. An avalanche of boulders, stones, and dust, swept +past the cave entrance from above. If their going in had been delayed by +a single minute, they would have been killed. + +Tydomin did not even look up. She took his hand in hers, and started +walking with him into the darkness. The temperature became as cold as +ice. At the first bend the light from the outer world disappeared, +leaving them in absolute blackness. Maskull kept stumbling over the +uneven ground, but she kept tight hold of him, and hurried him along. + +The tunnel seemed of interminable length. Presently, however, the +atmosphere changed—or such was his impression. He was somehow led to +imagine that they had come to a larger chamber. Here Tydomin stopped, +and then forced him down with quiet pressure. His groping hand +encountered stone and, by feeling it all over, he discovered that it was +a sort of stone slab, or couch, raised a foot or eighteen inches from +the ground. She told him to lie down. + +“Has the time come?” asked Maskull. + +“Yes.” + +He lay there waiting in the darkness, ignorant of what was going to +happen. He felt her hand clasping his. Without perceiving any gradation, +he lost all consciousness of his body; he was no longer able to feel his +limbs or internal organs. His mind remained active and alert. Nothing +particular appeared to be taking place. + +Then the chamber began to grow light, like very early morning. He could +see nothing, but the retina of his eyes was affected. He fancied that he +heard music, but while he was listening for it, it stopped. The light +grew stronger, the air grew warmer; he heard the confused sound of +distant voices. + +Suddenly Tydomin gave his hand a powerful squeeze. He heard someone +scream faintly, and then the light leaped up, and he saw everything +clearly. + +He was lying on a wooden couch, in a strangely decorated room, lighted +by electricity. His hand was being squeezed, not by Tydomin, but by a +man dressed in the garments of civilisation, with whose face he was +certainly familiar, but under what circumstances he could not recall. +Other people stood in the background—they too were vaguely known to him. +He sat up and began to smile, without any especial reason; and then +stood upright. + +Everybody seemed to be watching him with anxiety and emotion—he wondered +why. Yet he felt that they were all acquaintances. Two in particular he +knew—the man at the farther end of the room, who paced restlessly +backward and forward, his face transfigured by stern, holy grandeur; and +that other big, bearded man—who was himself. Yes—he was looking at his +own double. But it was just as if a crime-riddled man of middle age were +suddenly confronted with his own photograph as an earnest, idealistic +youth. + +His other self spoke to him. He heard the sounds, but did not comprehend +the sense. Then the door was abruptly flung open, and a short, brutish- +looking individual leaped in. He began to behave in an extraordinary +manner to everyone around him; and after that came straight up to +him—Maskull. He spoke some words, but they were incomprehensible. A +terrible expression came over the newcomer’s face, and he grasped his +neck with a pair of hairy hands. Maskull felt his bones bending and +breaking, excruciating pains passed through all the nerves of his body, +and he experienced a sense of impending death. He cried out, and sank +helplessly on the floor, in a heap. The chamber and the company +vanished—the light went out. + +Once more he found himself in the blackness of the cave. He was this +time lying on the ground, but Tydomin was still with him, holding his +hand. He was in horrible bodily agony, but this was only a setting for +the despairing anguish that filled his mind. + +Tydomin addressed him in tones of gentle reproach. “Why are you back so +soon? I’ve not had time yet. You must return.” + +He caught hold of her, and pulled himself up to his feet. She gave a low +scream, as though in pain. “What does this mean—what are you doing, +Maskull?” + +“Krag—” began Maskull, but the effort to produce his words choked him, +so that he was obliged to stop. + +“Krag—what of Krag? Tell me quickly what has happened. Free my arm.” + +He gripped her arm tighter. + +“Yes, I’ve seen Krag. I’m awake.” + +“Oh! You are awake, awake.” + +“And you must die,” said Maskull, in an awful voice. + +“But why? What has happened?...” + +“You must die, and I must kill you. Because I am awake, and for no other +reason. You blood-stained dancing mistress!” + +Tydomin breathed hard for a little time. Then she seemed suddenly to +regain her self-possession. + +“You won’t offer me violence, surely, in this black cave?” + +“No, the sun shall look on, for it is not a murder. But rest assured +that you must die—you must expiate your fearful crimes.” + +“You have already said so, and I see you have the power. You have +escaped me. It is very curious. Well, then, Maskull, let us come +outside. I am not afraid. But kill me courteously, for I have also been +courteous to you. I make no other supplication.” + + + +Chapter 11. ON DISSCOURN + +BY THE TIME that they regained the mouth of the cavern, Blodsombre was +at its height. In front of them the scenery sloped downward—a long +succession of mountain islands in a sea of clouds. Behind them the +bright, stupendous crags of Disscourn loomed up for a thousand feet or +more. Maskull’s eyes were red, and his face looked stupid; he was still +holding the woman by the arm. She made no attempt to speak, or to get +away. She seemed perfectly gentle and composed. + +After gazing at the country for a long time in silence, he turned toward +her. “Whereabouts is the fiery lake you spoke of?” + +“It lies on the other side of the mountain. But why do you ask?” + +“It is just as well if we have some way to walk. I shall grow calmer, +and that’s what I want. I wish you to understand that what is going to +happen is not a murder, but an execution.” + +“It will taste the same,” said Tydomin. + +“When I have gone out of this country, I don’t wish to feel that I have +left a demon behind me, wandering at large. That would not be fair to +others. So we will go to the lake, which promises an easy death for +you.” + +She shrugged her shoulders. “We must wait till Blodsombre is over.” + +“Is this a time for luxurious feelings? However hot it is now, we will +both be cool by evening. We must start at once.” + +“Without doubt, you are the master, Maskull.... May I not carry +Crimtyphon?” + +Maskull looked at her strangely. + +“I grudge no man his funeral.” + +She painfully hoisted the body on her narrow shoulders, and they stepped +out into the sunlight. The heat struck them like a blow on the head. +Maskull moved aside, to allow her to precede him, but no compassion +entered his heart. He brooded over the wrongs the woman had done him. + +The way went along the south side of the great pyramid, near its base. +It was a rough road, clogged with boulders and crossed by cracks and +water gullies; they could see the water, but could not get at it. There +was no shade. Blisters formed on their skin, while all the water in +their blood seemed to dry up. + +Maskull forgot his own tortures in his devil’s delight at Tydomin’s. +“Sing me a song!” he called out presently. “A characteristic one.” + +She turned her head and gave him a long, peculiar look; then, without +any sort of expostulation, started singing. Her voice was low and weird. +The song was so extraordinary that he had to rub his eyes to ascertain +whether he was awake or dreaming. The slow surprises of the grotesque +melody began to agitate him in a horrible fashion; the words were pure +nonsense—or else their significance was too deep for him. + +“Where, in the name of all unholy things, did you acquire that stuff, +woman?” + +Tydomin shed a sickly smile, while the corpse swayed about with ghastly +jerks over her left shoulder. She held it in position with her two left +arms. “It’s a pity we could not have met as friends, Maskull. I could +have shown you a side of Tormance which now perhaps you will never see. +The wild, mad side. But now it’s too late, and it doesn’t matter.” + +They turned the angle of the mountain, and started to traverse the +western base. + +“Which is the quickest way out of this miserable land?” asked Maskull. + +“It is easiest to go to Sant.” + +“Will we see it from anywhere?” + +“Yes, though it is a long way off.” + +“Have you been there?” + +“I am a woman, and interdicted.” + +“True. I have heard something of the sort.” + +“But don’t ask me any more questions,” said Tydomin, who was becoming +faint. + +Maskull stopped at a little spring. He himself drank, and then made a +cup of his hand for the woman, so that she might not have to lay down +her burden. The gnawl water acted like magic—it seemed to replenish all +the cells of his body as though they had been thirsty sponge pores, +sucking up liquid. Tydomin recovered her self-possession. + +About three-quarters of an hour later they worked around the second +corner, and entered into full view of the north aspect of Disscourn. + +A hundred yards lower down the slope on which they were walking, the +mountain ended abruptly in a chasm. The air above it was filled with a +sort of green haze, which trembled violently like the atmosphere +immediately over a furnace. + +“The lake is underneath,” said Tydomin. + +Maskull looked curiously about him. Beyond the crater the country sloped +away in a continuous descent to the skyline. Behind them, a narrow path +channelled its way up through the rocks toward the towering summit of +the pyramid. Miles away, in the north-east quarter, a long, flat-topped +plateau raised its head far above all the surrounding country. It was +Sant—and there and then he made up his mind that that should be his +destination that day. + +Tydomin meanwhile had walked straight to the gulf, and set down +Crimtyphon’s body on the edge. In a minute or two, Maskull joined her; +arrived at the brink, he immediately flung himself at full length on his +chest, to see what could be seen of the lake of fire. A gust of hot, +asphyxiating air smote his face and set him coughing, but he did not get +up until he had stared his fill at the huge sea of green, molten lava, +tossing and swirling at no great distance below, like a living will. + +A faint sound of drumming came up. He listened intently, and as he did +so his heart quickened and the black cares rolled away from his soul. +All the world and its accidents seemed at that moment false, and without +meaning.... + +He climbed abstractedly to his feet. Tydomin was talking to her dead +husband. She was peering into the hideous face of ivory, and fondling +his violet hair. When she perceived Maskull, she hastily kissed the +withered lips, and got up from her knees. Lifting the corpse with all +three arms, she staggered with it to the extreme edge of the gulf and, +after an instant’s hesitation, allowed it to drop into the lava. It +disappeared immediately without sound; a metallic splash came up. That +was Crimtyphon’s funeral. + +“Now I am ready, Maskull.” + +He did not answer, but stared past her. Another figure was standing, +erect and mournful, not far behind her. It was Joiwind. Her face was +wan, and there was an accusing look in her eyes. Maskull knew that it +was a phantasm, and that the real Joiwind was miles away, at +Poolingdred. + +“Turn around, Tydomin,” he said oddly, “and tell me what you see behind +you.” + +“I don’t see anything,” she answered, looking around. + +“But I see Joiwind.” + +Just as he was speaking, the apparition vanished. + +“Now I present you with your life, Tydomin. She wishes it.” + +The woman fingered her chin thoughtfully. + +“I little expected I should ever be beholden for my life to one of my +own sex—but so be it. What really happened to you in my cavern?” + +“I really saw Krag.” + +“Yes, some miracle must have taken place.” She suddenly shivered. “Come, +let us leave this horrible spot. I shall never come here again.” + +“Yes,” said Maskull, “it stinks of death and dying. But where are we to +go—what are we to do? Take me to Sant. I must get away from this hellish +land.” + +Tydomin remained standing, dull and hollow-eyed. Then she gave an +abrupt, bitter little laugh. “We make our journey together in singular +stages. Rather than be alone, I’ll come with you—but you know that if I +set foot in Sant they will kill me.” + +“At least set me on the way. I wish to get there before night. Is it +possible?” + +“If you are willing to take risks with nature. And why should you not +take risks today? Your luck holds. But someday or other it won’t +hold—your luck.” + +“Let us start,” said Maskull. “The luck I’ve had so far is nothing to +brag about.” + +Blodsombre was over when they set off; it was early afternoon, but the +heat seemed more stifling than ever. They made no more pretence at +conversation; both were buried in their own painful thoughts. The land +fell away from Disscourn in all other directions, but toward Sant there +was a gentle, persistent rise. Its dark, distant plateau continued to +dominate the landscape, and after walking for an hour they seemed none +the nearer to it. The air was stale and stagnant. + +By and by, an upright object, apparently the work of man, attracted +Maskull’s notice. It was a slender tree stem, with the bark still on, +imbedded in the stony ground. From the upper end three branches sprang +out, pointing aloft at a sharp angle. They were stripped to twigs and +leaves and, getting closer, he saw that they had been artificially +fastened on, at equal distances from each other. + +As he stared at the object, a strange, sudden flush of confident vanity +and self-sufficiency seemed to pass through him, but it was so momentary +that he could be sure of nothing. + +“What may that be, Tydomin?” + +“It is Hator’s Trifork.” + +“And what is its purpose?” + +“It’s a guide to Sant.” + +“But who or what is Hator?” + +“Hator was the founder of Sant—many thousands of years ago. He laid down +the principles they all live by, and that trifork is his symbol. When I +was a little child my father told me the legends, but I’ve forgotten +most of them.” + +Maskull regarded it attentively. + +“Does it affect you in any way?” + +“And why should it do that?” she said, dropping her lip scornfully. “I +am only a woman, and these are masculine mysteries.” + +“A sort of gladness came over me,” said Maskull, “but perhaps I am +mistaken.” + +They passed on. The scenery gradually changed in character. The solid +parts of the land grew more continuous, the fissures became narrower and +more infrequent. There were now no more subsidences or upheavals. The +peculiar nature of the Ifdawn Marest appeared to be giving place to a +different order of things. + +Later on, they encountered a flock of pale blue jellies floating in the +air. They were miniature animals. Tydomin caught one in her hand and +began to eat it, just as one eats a luscious pear plucked from a tree. +Maskull, who had fasted since early morning, was not slow in following +her example. A sort of electric vigour at once entered his limbs and +body, his muscles regained their elasticity, his heart began to beat +with hard, slow, strong throbs. + +“Food and body seem to agree well in this world,” he remarked smiling. + +She glanced toward him. “Perhaps the explanation is not in the food, but +in your body.” + +“I brought my body with me.” + +“You brought your soul with you, but that’s altering fast, too.” + +In a copse they came across a short, wide tree, without leaves, but +possessing a multitude of thin, flexible branches, like the tentacles of +a cuttlefish. Some of these branches were moving rapidly. A furry +animal, somewhat resembling a wildcat, leaped about among them in the +most extraordinary way. But the next minute Maskull was shocked to +realise that the beast was not leaping at all, but was being thrown from +branch to branch by the volition of the tree, exactly as an imprisoned +mouse is thrown by a cat from paw to paw. + +He watched the spectacle a while with morbid interest. + +“That’s a gruesome reversal of rôles, Tydomin.” + +“One can see you’re disgusted,” she replied, stifling a yawn. “But that +is because you are a slave to words. If you called that plant an animal, +you would find its occupation perfectly natural and pleasing. And why +should you not call it an animal?” + +“I am quite aware that, as long as I remain in the Ifdawn Marest, I +shall go on listening to this sort of language.” + +They trudged along for an hour or more without talking. The day became +overcast. A thin mist began to shroud the landscape, and the sun changed +into an immense ruddy disk which could be stared at without flinching. A +chill, damp wind blew against them. Presently it grew still darker, the +sun disappeared and, glancing first at his companion and then at +himself, Maskull noticed that their skin and clothing were coated by a +kind of green hoarfrost. + +The land was now completely solid. About half a mile, in front of them, +against a background of dark fog, a moving forest of tall waterspouts +gyrated slowly and gracefully hither and thither. They were green and +self-luminous, and looked terrifying. Tydomin explained that they were +not waterspouts at all, but mobile columns of lightning. + +“Then they are dangerous?” + +“So we think,” she answered, watching them closely. + +“Someone is wandering there who appears to have a different opinion.” + +Among the spouts, and entirely encompassed by them, a man was walking +with a slow, calm, composed gait, his back turned toward Maskull and +Tydomin. There was something unusual in his appearance—his form looked +extraordinarily distinct, solid, and real. + +“If there’s danger, he ought to be warned,” said Maskull. + +“He who is always anxious to teach will learn nothing,” returned the +woman coolly. She restrained Maskull by a pressure of the arm, and +continued to watch. + +The base of one of the columns touched the man. He remained unharmed, +but turned sharply around, as if for the first time made aware of the +proximity of these deadly waltzers. Then he raised himself to his full +height, and stretched both arms aloft above his head, like a diver. He +seemed to be addressing the columns. + +While they looked on, the electric spouts discharged themselves, with a +series of loud explosions. The stranger stood alone, uninjured. He +dropped his arms. The next moment he caught sight of the two, and stood +still, waiting for them to come up. The pictorial clarity of his person +grew more and more noticeable as they approached; his body seemed to be +composed of some substance heavier and denser than solid matter. + +Tydomin looked perplexed. + +“He must be a Sant man. I have seen no one quite like him before. This +is a day of days for me.” + +“He must be an individual of great importance,” murmured Maskull. + +They now came up to him. He was tall, strong, and bearded, and was +clothed in a shirt and breeches of skin. Since turning his back to the +wind, the green deposit on his face and limbs had changed to streaming +moisture, through which his natural colour was visible; it was that of +pale iron. There was no third arm. His face was harsh and frowning, and +a projecting chin pushed the beard forward. On his forehead there were +two flat membranes, like rudimentary eyes, but no sorb. These membranes +were expressionless, but in some strange way seemed to add vigour to the +stern eyes underneath. When his glance rested on Maskull, the latter +felt as though his brain were being thoroughly travelled through. The +man was middle-aged. + +His physical distinctness transcended nature. By contrast with him, +every object in the neighbourhood looked vague and blurred. Tydomin’s +person suddenly appeared faint, sketch-like, without significance, and +Maskull realised that it was no better with himself. A queer, quickening +fire began running through his veins. + +He turned to the woman. “If this man is going to Sant, I shall bear him +company. We can now part. No doubt you will think it high time.” + +“Let Tydomin come too.” + +The words were delivered in a rough, foreign tongue, but were as +intelligible to Maskull as if spoken in English. + +“You who know my name, also know my sex,” said Tydomin quietly. “It is +death for me to enter Sant.” + +“That is the old law. I am the bearer of the new law.” + +“Is it so—and will it be accepted?” + +“The old skin is cracking, the new skin has been silently forming +underneath, the moment of sloughing has arrived.” + +The storm gathered. The green snow drove against them, as they stood +talking, and it grew intensely cold. None noticed it. + +“What is your name?” asked Maskull, with a beating heart. + +“My name, Maskull, is Spadevil. You, a voyager across the dark ocean of +space, shall be my first witness and follower. You, Tydomin, a daughter +of the despised sex, shall be my second.” + +“The new law? But what is it?” + +“Until eye sees, of what use it is for ear to hear?.... Come, both of +you, to me!” + +Tydomin went to him unhesitatingly. Spadevil pressed his hand on her +sorb and kept it there for a few minutes, while he closed his own eyes. +When he removed it, Maskull observed that the sorb was transformed into +twin membranes like Spadevil’s own. + +Tydomin looked dazed. She glanced quietly about for a little while, +apparently testing her new faculty. Then the tears started to her eyes +and, snatching up Spadevil’s hand, she bent over and kissed it hurriedly +many times. + +“My past has been bad,” she said. “Numbers have received harm from me, +and none good. I have killed—and worse. But now I can throw all that +away, and laugh. Nothing can now injure me. Oh, Maskull, you and I have +been fools together!” + +“Don’t you repent your crimes?” asked Maskull. + +“Leave the past alone,” said Spadevil, “it cannot be reshaped. The +future alone is ours. It starts fresh and clean from this very minute. +Why do you hesitate, Maskull? Are you afraid?” + +“What is the name of those organs, and what is their function?” + +“They are probes, and they are the gates opening into a new world.” + +Maskull lingered no longer, but permitted Spadevil to cover his sorb. + +While the iron hand was still pressing his forehead, the new law quietly +flowed into his consciousness, like a smooth-running stream of clean +water which had hitherto been dammed by his obstructive will. The law +was duty. + + + +Chapter 12. SPADEVIL + +Maskull found that his new organs had no independent function of their +own, but only intensified and altered his other senses. When he used his +eyes, ears, or nostrils, the same objects presented themselves to him, +but his judgment concerning them was different. Previously all external +things had existed for him; now he existed for them. According to +whether they served his purpose or were in harmony with his nature, or +otherwise, they had been pleasant or painful. Now these words “pleasure” +and “pain” simply had no meaning. + +The other two watched him, while he was making himself acquainted with +his new mental outlook. He smiled at them. + +“You were quite right, Tydomin,” he said, in a bold, cheerful voice. “We +have been fools. So near the light all the time, and we never guessed +it. Always buried in the past or future—systematically ignoring the +present—and now it turns out that apart from the present we have no life +at all.” + +“Thank Spadevil for it,” she answered, more loudly than usual. + +Maskull looked at the man’s dark, concrete form. “Spadevil, now I mean +to follow you to the end. I can do nothing less.” + +The severe face showed no sign of gratification—not a muscle relaxed. + +“Watch that you don’t lose your gift,” he said gruffly. + +Tydomin spoke. “You promised that I should enter Sant with you.” + +“Attach yourself to the truth, not to me. For I may die before you, but +the truth will accompany you to your death. However, now let us journey +together, all three of us.” + +The words had not left his mouth before he put his face against the +fine, driving snow, and pressed onward toward his destination. He walked +with a long stride; Tydomin was obliged to half run in order to keep up +with him. The three travelled abreast; Spadevil in the middle. The fog +was so dense that it was impossible to see a hundred yards ahead. The +ground was covered by the green snow. The wind blew in gusts from the +Sant highlands and was piercingly cold. + +“Spadevil, are you a man, or more than a man?” asked Maskull. + +“He that is not more than a man is nothing.” + +“Where have you now come from?” + +“From brooding, Maskull. Out of no other mother can truth be born. I +have brooded, and rejected; and I have brooded again. Now, after many +months’ absence from Sant, the truth at last shines forth for me in its +simple splendour, like an upturned diamond.” + +“I see its shining,” said Maskull. “But how much does it owe to ancient +Hator?” + +“Knowledge has its seasons. The blossom was to Hator, the fruit is to +me. Hator also was a brooder—but now his followers do not brood. In Sant +all is icy selfishness, a living death. They hate pleasure, and this +hatred is the greatest pleasure to them.” + +“But in what way have they fallen off from Hator’s doctrines?” + +“For him, in his sullen purity of nature, all the world was a snare, a +limed twig. Knowing that pleasure was everywhere, a fierce, mocking +enemy, crouching and waiting at every corner of the road of life, in +order to kill with its sweet sting the naked grandeur of the soul, he +shielded himself behind pain. This also his followers do, but they do +not do it for the sake of the soul, but for the sake of vanity and +pride.” + +“What is the Trifork?” + +“The stem, Maskull, is hatred of pleasure. The first fork is +disentanglement from the sweetness of the world. The second fork is +power over those who still writhe in the nets of illusion. The third +fork is the healthy glow of one who steps into ice-cold water.” + +“From what land did Hator come?” + +“It is not said. He lived in Ifdawn for a while. There are many legends +told of him while there.” + +“We have a long way to go,” said Tydomin. “Relate some of these legends, +Spadevil.” + +The snow had ceased, the day brightened, Branchspell reappeared like a +phantom sun, but bitter blasts of wind still swept over the plain. + +“In those days,” said Spadevil, “there existed in Ifdawn a mountain +island separated by wide spaces from the land around it. A handsome +girl, who knew sorcery, caused a bridge to be constructed across which +men and women might pass to it. Having by a false tale drawn Hator on to +this rock, she pushed at the bridge with her foot until it tumbled into +the depths below. ‘You and I, Hator, are now together, and there is no +means of separating. I wish to see how long the famous frost man can +withstand the breath, smiles and perfume of a girl.’ Hator said no word, +either then or all that day. He stood till sunset like a tree trunk, and +thought of other things. Then the girl grew passionate, and shook her +curls. She rose from where she was sitting she looked at him, and +touched his arm; but he did not see her. She looked at him, so that all +the soul was in her eyes; and then she fell down dead. Hator awoke from +his thoughts, and saw her lying, still warm, at his feet, a corpse. He +passed to the mainland; but how, it is not related.” + +Tydomin shuddered. “You too have met your wicked woman, Spadevil; but +your method is a nobler one.” + +“Don’t pity other women,” said Spadevil, “but love the right. Hator also +once conversed with Shaping.” + +“With the Maker of the World?” said Maskull thoughtfully. + +“With the Maker of Pleasure. It is told how Shaping defended his world, +and tried to force Hator to acknowledge loveliness and joy. But Hator, +answering all his marvellous speeches in a few concise, iron words, +showed how this joy and beauty was but another name for the bestiality +of souls wallowing in luxury and sloth. Shaping smiled, and said, ‘How +comes it that your wisdom is greater than that of the Master of wisdom?’ +Hator said, ‘My wisdom does not come from you, nor from your world, but +from that other world, which you, Shaping, have vainly tried to +imitate.’ Shaping replied, ‘What, then, do you do in my world?’ Hator +said, ‘I am here falsely, and therefore I am subject to your false +pleasures. But I wrap myself in pain—not because it is good, but because +I wish to keep myself as far from you as possible. For pain is not +yours, neither does it belong to the other world, but it is the shadow +cast by your false pleasures.’ Shaping then said, ‘What is this faraway +other world of which you say “This is so—this is not so?” How happens it +that you alone of all my creatures have knowledge of it?’ But Hator spat +at his feet, and said, ‘You lie, Shaping. All have knowledge of it. You, +with your pretty toys, alone obscure it from our view.’ Shaping asked, +‘What, then, am I?’ Hator answered, ‘You are the dreamer of impossible +dreams.’ And then the story goes that Shaping departed, ill pleased with +what had been said.” + +“What other world did Hator refer to?” asked Maskull. + +“One where grandeur reigns, Maskull, just as pleasure reigns here.” + +“Whether grandeur or pleasure, it makes no difference,” said Maskull. +“The individual spirit that lives and wishes to live is mean and +corrupt-natured.” + +“Guard you your pride!” returned Spadevil. “Do not make law for the +universe and for all time, but for yourself and for this small, false +life of yours.” + +“In what shape did death come to that hard, unconquerable man?” asked +Tydomin. + +“He lived to be old, but went upright and free-limbed to his last hour. +When he saw that death could not be staved off longer he determined to +destroy himself. He gathered his friends around him; not from vanity, +but that they might see to what lengths the human soul can go in its +perpetual warfare with the voluptuous body. Standing erect, without +support, he died by withholding his breath.” + +A silence followed, which lasted for perhaps an hour. Their minds +refused to acknowledge the icy winds, but the current of their thoughts +became frozen. + +When Branchspell, however, shone out again, though with subdued power, +Maskull’s curiosity rose once more. “Your fellow countrymen, then, +Spadevil, are sick with self-love?” + +“The men of other countries,” said Spadevil, “are the slaves of pleasure +and desire, knowing it. But the men of my country are the slaves of +pleasure and desire, not knowing it.” + +“And yet that proud pleasure, which rejoices in self-torture, has +something noble in it.” + +“He who studies himself at all is ignoble. Only by despising soul as +well as body can a man enter into true life.” + +“On what grounds do they reject women?” + +“Inasmuch as a woman has ideal love, and cannot live for herself. Love +for another is pleasure for the loved one, and therefore injurious to +him.” + +“A forest of false ideas is waiting for your axe,” said Maskull. “But +will they allow it?” + +“Spadevil knows, Maskull,” said Tydomin, “that be it today or be it +tomorrow, love can’t be kept out of a land, even by the disciples of +Hator.” + +“Beware of love—beware of emotion!” exclaimed Spadevil. “Love is but +pleasure once removed. Think not of pleasing others, but of serving +them.” + +“Forgive me, Spadevil, if I am still feminine.” + +“Right has no sex. So long, Tydomin, as you remember that you are a +woman, so long you will not enter into divine apathy of soul.” + +“But where there are no women, there are no children,” said Maskull. +“How came there to be all these generations of Hator men?” + +“Life breeds passion, passion breeds suffering, suffering breeds the +yearning for relief from suffering. Men throng to Sant from all parts, +in order to have the scars of their souls healed.” + +“In place of hatred of pleasure, which all can understand, what simple +formula do you offer?” + +“Iron obedience to duty,” answered Spadevil. + +“And if they ask ‘How far is this consistent with hatred of pleasure?’ +what will your pronouncement be?” + +“I do not answer them, but I answer you, Maskull, who ask the question. +Hatred is passion, and all passion springs from the dark fires of self. +Do not hate pleasure at all, but pass it by on one side, calm and +undisturbed.” + +“What is the criterion of pleasure? How can we always recognise it, in +order to avoid it?” + +“Rigidly follow duty, and such questions will not arise.” + +Later in the afternoon, Tydomin timidly placed her fingers on Spadevil’s +arm. + +“Fearful doubts are in my mind,” she said. “This expedition to Sant may +turn out badly. I have seen a vision of you, Spadevil, and myself lying +dead and covered in blood, but Maskull was not there.” + +“We may drop the torch, but it will not be extinguished, and others will +raise it.” + +“Show me a sign that you are not as other men—so that I may know that +our blood will not be wasted.” + +Spadevil regarded her sternly. “I am not a magician. I don’t persuade +the senses, but the soul. Does your duty call you to Sant, Tydomin? Then +go there. Does it not call you to Sant? Then go no farther. Is not this +simple? What signs are necessary?” + +“Did I not see you dispel those spouts of lightning? No common man could +have done that.” + +“Who knows what any man can do? This man can do one thing, that man can +do another. But what all men can do is their duty; and to open their +eyes to this, I must go to Sant, and if necessary lay down my life. Will +you not still accompany me?” + +“Yes,” said Tydomin, “I will follow you to the end. It is all the more +essential, because I keep on displeasing you with my remarks, and that +means I have not yet learned my lesson properly.” + +“Do not be humble, for humility is only self-judgment, and while we are +thinking of self, we must be neglecting some action we could be planning +or shaping in our mind.” + +Tydomin continued to be uneasy and preoccupied. + +“Why was Maskull not in the picture?” she asked. + +“You dwell on this foreboding because you imagine it is tragical. There +is nothing tragical in death, Tydomin, nor in life. There is only right +and wrong. What arises from right or wrong action does not matter. We +are not gods, constructing a world, but simple men and women, doing our +immediate duty. We may die in Sant—so you have seen it; but the truth +will go on living.” + +“Spadevil, why do you choose Sant to start your work in?” asked Maskull. +“These men with fixed ideas seem to me the least likely of any to follow +a new light.” + +“Where a bad tree thrives, a good tree will flourish. But where no tree +at all can be found, nothing will grow.” + +“I understand you,” said Maskull. “Here perhaps we are going to +martyrdom, but elsewhere we should resemble men preaching to cattle.” + +Shortly before sunset they arrived at the extremity of the upland plain, +above which towered the black cliffs of the Sant Levels. A dizzy, +artificially constructed staircase, of more than a thousand steps of +varying depth, twisting and forking in order to conform to the angles of +the precipices, led to the world overhead. In the place where they stood +they were sheltered from the cutting winds. Branchspell, radiantly +shining at last, but on the point of sinking, filled the cloudy sky with +violent, lurid colors, some of the combinations of which were new to +Maskull. The circle of the horizon was so gigantic, that had he been +suddenly carried back to Earth, he would by comparison have fancied +himself to be moving beneath the dome of some little, closed-in +cathedral. He realised that he was on a foreign planet. But he was not +stirred or uplifted by the knowledge; he was conscious only of moral +ideas. Looking backward, he saw the plain, which for several miles past +had been without vegetation, stretching back away to Disscourn. So +regular had been the ascent, and so great was the distance, that the +huge pyramid looked nothing more than a slight swelling on the face of +the earth. + +Spadevil stopped, and gazed over the landscape in silence. In the +evening sunlight his form looked more dense, dark, and real than ever +before. His features were set hard in grimness. + +He turned around to his companions. “What is the greatest wonder, in all +this wonderful scene?” he demanded. + +“Acquaint us,” said Maskull. + +“All that you see is born from pleasure, and moves on, from pleasure to +pleasure. Nowhere is right to be found. It is Shaping’s world.” + +“There is another wonder,” said Tydomin, and she pointed her finger +toward the sky overhead. + +A small cloud, so low down that it was perhaps not more than five +hundred feet above them, was sailing along in front of the dark wall of +cliff. It was in the exact shape of an open human hand, with downward- +pointing fingers. It was stained crimson by the sun; and one or two tiny +cloudlets beneath the fingers looked like falling drops of blood. + +“Who can doubt now that our death is close at hand?” said Tydomin. “I +have been close to death twice today. The first time I was ready, but +now I am more ready, for I shall die side by side with the man who has +given me my first happiness.” + +“Do not think of death, but of right persistence,” replied Spadevil. “I +am not here to tremble before Shaping’s portents; but to snatch men from +him.” + +He at once proceeded to lead the way up the staircase. Tydomin gazed +upward after him for a moment, with an odd, worshiping light in her +eyes. Then she followed him, the second of the party. Maskull climbed +last. He was travel stained, unkempt, and very tired; but his soul was +at peace. As they steadily ascended the almost perpendicular stairs, the +sun got higher in the sky. Its light dyed their bodies a ruddy gold. + +They gained the top. There they found rolling in front of them, as far +as the eye could see, a barren desert of white sand, broken here and +there by large, jagged masses of black rock. Tracts of the sand were +reddened by the sinking sun. The vast expanse of sky was filled by evil- +shaped clouds and wild colors. The freezing wind, flurrying across the +desert, drove the fine particles of sand painfully against their faces. + +“Where now do you take us?” asked Maskull. + +“He who guards the old wisdom of Sant must give up that wisdom to me, +that I may change it. What he says, others will say. I go to find +Maulger.” + +“And where will you seek him, in this bare country?” + +Spadevil struck off toward the north unhesitatingly. + +“It is not so far,” he said. “It is his custom to be in that part where +Sant overhangs the Wombflash Forest. Perhaps he will be there, but I +cannot say.” + +Maskull glanced toward Tydomin. Her sunken cheeks, and the dark circles +beneath her eyes told of her extreme weariness. + +“The woman is tired, Spadevil,” he said. + +She smiled. “It’s but another step into the land of death. I can manage +it. Give me your arm, Maskull.” + +He put his arm around her waist, and supported her along that way. + +“The sun is now sinking,” said Maskull. “Will we get there before dark?” + +“Fear nothing, Maskull and Tydomin; this pain is eating up the evil in +your nature. The road you are walking cannot remain unwalked. We shall +arrive before dark.” + +The sun then disappeared behind the far-distant ridges that formed the +western boundary of the Ifdawn Marest. The sky blazed up into more vivid +colors. The wind grew colder. + +They passed some pools of colourless gnawl water, round the banks of +which were planted fruit trees. Maskull ate some of the fruit. It was +hard, bitter, and astringent; he could not get rid of the taste, but he +felt braced and invigorated by the downward-flowing juices. No other +trees or shrubs were to be seen anywhere. No animals appeared, no birds +or insects. It was a desolate land. + +A mile or two passed, when they again approached the edge of the +plateau. Far down, beneath their feet, the great Wombflash Forest began. +But daylight had vanished there; Maskull’s eyes rested only on a vague +darkness. He faintly heard what sounded like the distant sighing of +innumerable treetops. + +In the rapidly darkening twilight, they came abruptly on a man. He was +standing in a pool, on one leg. A pile of boulders had hidden him from +their view. The water came as far up as his calf. A trifork, similar to +the one Maskull had seen on Disscourn, but smaller, had been stuck in +the mud close by his hand. + +They stopped by the side of the pond, and waited. Immediately he became +aware of their presence, the man set down his other leg, and waded out +of the water toward them, picking up his trifork in doing so. + +“This is not Maulger, but Catice,” said Spadevil. + +“Maulger is dead,” said Catice, speaking the same tongue as Spadevil, +but with an even harsher accent, so that the tympanum of Maskull’s ear +was affected painfully. + +The latter saw before him a bowed, powerful individual, advanced in +years. He wore nothing but a scanty loincloth. His trunk was long and +heavy, but his legs were rather short. His face was beardless, lemon- +coloured, and anxious-looking. It was disfigured by a number of +longitudinal ruts, a quarter of an inch deep, the cavities of which +seemed clogged with ancient dirt. The hair of his head was black and +sparse. Instead of the twin membranous organs of Spadevil, he possessed +but one; and this was in the centre of his brow. + +Spadevil’s dark, solid person stood out from the rest like a reality +among dreams. + +“Has the trifork passed to you?” he demanded. + +“Yes. Why have you brought this woman to Sant?” + +“I have brought another thing to Sant. I have brought the new faith.” + +Catice stood motionless, and looked troubled. “State it.” + +“Shall I speak with many words, or few words?” + +“If you wish to say what is not, many words will not suffice. If you +wish to say what is, a few words will be enough.” + +Spadevil frowned. + +“To hate pleasure brings pride with it. Pride is a pleasure. To kill +pleasure, we must attach ourselves to duty. While the mind is planning +right action, it has no time to think of pleasure.” + +“Is that the whole?” asked Catice. + +“The truth is simple, even for the simplest man.” + +“Do you destroy Hator, and all his generations, with a single word?” + +“I destroy nature, and set up law.” + +A long silence followed. + +“My probe is double,” said Spadevil. “Suffer me to double yours, and you +will see as I see.” + +“Come you here, you big man!” said Catice to Maskull. Maskull advanced a +step closer. + +“Do you follow Spadevil in his new faith?” + +“As far as death,” exclaimed Maskull. + +Catice picked up a flint. “With this stone I strike out one of your two +probes. When you have but one, you will see with me, and you will +recollect with Spadevil. Choose you then the superior faith, and I shall +obey your choice.” + +“Endure this little pain, Maskull, for the sake of future men,” said +Spadevil. + +“The pain is nothing,” replied Maskull, “but I fear the result.” + +“Permit me, although I am only a woman, to take his place, Catice,” said +Tydomin, stretching out her hand. + +He struck at it violently with the flint, and gashed it from wrist to +thumb; the pale carmine blood spouted up. “What brings this kiss-lover +to Sant?” he said. “How does she presume to make the rules of life for +the sons of Hator?” + +She bit her lip, and stepped back. “Well then, Maskull, accept! I +certainly should not have played false to Spadevil; but you hardly can.” + +“If he bids me, I must do it,” said Maskull. “But who knows what will +come of it?” + +Spadevil spoke. “Of all the descendants of Hator, Catice is the most +wholehearted and sincere. He will trample my truth underfoot, thinking +me a demon sent by Shaping, to destroy the work of this land. But a seed +will escape, and my blood and yours, Tydomin, will wash it. Then men +will know that my destroying evil is their greatest good. But none here +will live to see that.” + +Maskull now went quite close to Catice, and offered his head. Catice +raised his hand, and after holding the flint poised for a moment, +brought it down with adroitness and force upon the left-hand probe. +Maskull cried out with the pain. The blood streamed down, and the +function of the organ was destroyed. + +There was a pause, while he walked to and fro, trying to staunch the +blood. + +“What now do you feel, Maskull? What do you see?” inquired Tydomin +anxiously. + +He stopped, and stared hard at her. “I now see straight,” he said +slowly. + +“What does that mean?” + +He continued to wipe the blood from his forehead. He looked troubled. +“Henceforward, as long as I live, I shall fight with my nature, and +refuse to feel pleasure. And I advise you to do the same.” + +Spadevil gazed at him sternly. “Do you renounce my teaching?” + +Maskull, however, returned the gaze without dismay. Spadevil’s image- +like clearness of form had departed for him; his frowning face he knew +to be the deceptive portico of a weak and confused intellect. + +“It is false.” + +“Is it false to sacrifice oneself for another?” demanded Tydomin. + +“I can’t argue as yet,” said Maskull. “At this moment the world with its +sweetness seems to me a sort of charnel house. I feel a loathing for +everything in it, including myself. I know no more.” + +“Is there no duty?” asked Spadevil, in a harsh tone. + +“It appears to me but a cloak under which we share the pleasure of other +people.” + +Tydomin pulled at Spadevil’s arm. “Maskull has betrayed you, as he has +so many others. Let us go.” + +He stood fast. “You have changed quickly, Maskull.” + +Maskull, without answering him, turned to Catice. “Why do men go on +living in this soft, shameful world, when they can kill themselves?” + +“Pain is the native air of Surtur’s children. To what other air do you +wish to escape?” + +“Surtur’s children? Is not Surtur Shaping?” + +“It is the greatest of lies. It is Shaping’s masterpiece.” + +“Answer, Maskull!” said Spadevil. “Do you repudiate right action?” + +“Leave me alone. Go back! I am not thinking of you, and your ideas. I +wish you no harm.” + +The darkness came on fast. There was another prolonged silence. + +Catice threw away the flint, and picked up his staff. “The woman must +return home,” he said. + +“She was persuaded here, and did not come freely. You, Spadevil, must +die—backslider as you are!” + +Tydomin said quietly, “He has no power to enforce this. Are you going to +allow the truth to fall to the ground, Spadevil?” + +“It will not perish by my death, but by my efforts to escape from death. +Catice, I accept your judgment.” + +Tydomin smiled. “For my part, I am too tired to walk farther today, so I +shall die with him.” + +Catice said to Maskull, “Prove your sincerity. Kill this man and his +mistress, according to the laws of Hator.” + +“I can’t do that. I have travelled in friendship with them.” + +“You denied duty; and now you must do your duty,” said Spadevil, calmly +stroking his beard. “Whatever law you accept, you must obey, without +turning to right or left. Your law commands that we must be stoned; and +it will soon be dark.” + +“Have you not even this amount of manhood?” exclaimed Tydomin. + +Maskull moved heavily. “Be my witness, Catice, that the thing was forced +on me.” + +“Hator is looking on, and approving,” replied Catice. + +Maskull then went apart to the pile of boulders scattered by the side of +the pool. He glanced about him, and selected two large fragments of +rock, the heaviest that he thought he could carry. With these in his +arms, he staggered back. + +He dropped them on the ground, and stood, recovering his breath. When he +could speak again, he said, “I have a bad heart for the business. Is +there no alternative? Sleep here tonight, Spadevil, and in the morning +go back to where you have come from. No one shall harm you.” + +Spadevil’s ironic smile was lost in the gloom. + +“Shall I brood again, Maskull, for still another year, and after that +come back to Sant with other truths? Come, waste no time, but choose the +heavier stone for me, for I am stronger than Tydomin.” + +Maskull lifted one of the rocks, and stepped out four full paces. +Spadevil confronted him, erect, and waited tranquilly. + +The huge stone hurtled through the air. Its flight looked like a dark +shadow. It struck Spadevil full in the face, crushing his features, and +breaking his neck. He died instantaneously. + +Tydomin looked away from the fallen man. + +“Be very quick, Maskull, and don’t let me keep him waiting.” + +He panted, and raised the second stone. She placed herself in front of +Spadevil’s body, and stood there, unsmiling and cold. + +The blow caught her between breast and chin, and she fell. Maskull went +to her, and, kneeling on the ground, half-raised her in his arms. There +she breathed out her last sighs. + +After that, he laid her down again, and rested heavily on his hands, +while he peered into the dead face. The transition from its heroic, +spiritual expression to the vulgar and grinning mask of Crystalman came +like a flash; but he saw it. + +He stood up in the darkness, and pulled Catice toward him. + +“Is that the true likeness of Shaping?” + +“It is Shaping stripped of illusion.” + +“How comes this horrible world to exist?” + +Catice did not answer. + +“Who is Surtur?” + +“You will get nearer to him tomorrow; but not here.” + +“I am wading through too much blood,” said Maskull. “Nothing good can +come of it.” + +“Do not fear change and destruction; but laughter and joy.” + +Maskull meditated. + +“Tell me, Catice. If I had elected to follow Spadevil, would you really +have accepted his faith?” + +“He was a great-souled man,” replied Catice. “I see that the pride of +our men is only another sprouting-out of pleasure. Tomorrow I too shall +leave Sant, to reflect on all this.” + +Maskull shuddered. “Then these two deaths were not a necessity, but a +crime!” + +“His part was played and henceforward the woman would have dragged down +his ideas, with her soft love and loyalty. Regret nothing, stranger, but +go away at once out of the land.” + +“Tonight? Where shall I go?” + +“To Wombflash, where you will meet the deepest minds. I will put you on +the way.” + +He linked his arm in Maskull’s, and they walked away into the night. For +a mile or more they skirted the edge of the precipice. The wind was +searching, and drove grit into their faces. Through the rifts of the +clouds, stars, faint and brilliant, appeared. Maskull saw no familiar +constellations. He wondered if the sun of earth was visible, and if so +which one it was. + +They came to the head of a rough staircase, leading down the cliffside. +It resembled the one by which he had come up; but this descended to the +Wombflash Forest. + +“That is your path,” said Catice, “and I shall not come any farther.” + +Maskull detained him. “Say just this, before we part company—why does +pleasure appear so shameful to us?” + +“Because in feeling pleasure, we forget our home.” + +“And that is—” + +“Muspel,” answered Catice. + +Having made this reply, he disengaged himself, and, turning his back, +disappeared into the darkness. + +Maskull stumbled down the staircase as best he could. He was tired, but +contemptuous of his pains. His uninjured probe began to discharge +matter. He lowered himself from step to step during what seemed an +interminable time. The rustling and sighing of the trees grew louder as +he approached the bottom; the air became still and warm. Inky blackness +was all around him. + +***** + +He at last reached level ground. Still attempting to proceed, he began +to trip over roots, and to collide with tree trunks. After this had +happened a few times, he determined to go no farther that night. He +heaped together some dry leaves for a pillow, and immediately flung +himself down to sleep. Deep and heavy unconsciousness seized him almost +instantly. + + + +Chapter 13. THE WOMBFLASH FOREST + +He awoke to his third day on Tormance. His limbs ached. He lay on his +side, looking stupidly at his surroundings. The forest was like night, +but that period of the night when the grey dawn is about to break and +objects begin to be guessed at, rather than seen. Two or three amazing +shadowy shapes, as broad as houses, loomed up out of the twilight. He +did not realise that they were trees, until he turned over on his back +and followed their course upward. Far overhead, so high up that he dared +not calculate the height, he saw their tops glittering in the sunlight, +against a tiny patch of blue sky. + +Clouds of mist, rolling over the floor of the forest, kept interrupting +his view. In their silent passage they were like phantoms flitting among +the trees. The leaves underneath him were sodden, and heavy drops of +moisture splashed onto his head from time to time. + +He continued lying there, trying to reconstruct the events of the +preceding day. His brain was lethargic and confused. Something terrible +had happened, but what it was he could not for a long time recollect. +Then suddenly there came before his eyes that ghastly closing scene at +dusk on the Sant plateau—Spadevil’s crushed and bloody features and +Tydomin’s dying sighs.... He shuddered convulsively, and felt sick. + +The peculiar moral outlook that had dictated these brutal murders had +departed from him during the night, and now he recognised what he had +done! During the whole of the previous day he seemed to have been +labouring under a series of heavy enchantments. First Oceaxe had +enslaved him, then Tydomin, then Spadevil, and lastly Catice. They had +forced him to murder and violate; he had guessed nothing, but had +imagined that he was travelling as a free and enlightened stranger. What +was this nightmare journey for—and would it continue, in the same +way?... + +The silence of the forest was so intense that he heard no sound except +the pumping of blood through his arteries. + +Putting his hand to his face, he found that his remaining probe had +disappeared and that he was in possession of three eyes. The third eye +was on his forehead, where the old sorb had been. He could not guess its +use. He still had his third arm, but it was nerveless. + +Now he puzzled his head for a long time, trying unsuccessfully to recall +that name which had been the last word spoken by Catice. + +He got up, with the intention of resuming his journey. He had no toilet +to make, and no meal to prepare. The forest was tremendous. The nearest +tree appeared to him to have a circumference of at least a hundred feet. +Other dim boles looked equally large. But what gave the scene its aspect +of immensity was the vast spaces separating tree from tree. It was like +some gigantic, supernatural hall in a life after death. The lowest +branches were fifty yards or more from the ground. There was no +underbrush; the soil was carpeted only by the dead, wet leaves. He +looked all around him, to find his direction, but the cliffs of Sant, +which he had descended, were invisible—every way was like every other +way, he had no idea which quarter to attack. He grew frightened, and +muttered to himself. Craning his neck back, he stared upward and tried +to discover the points of the compass from the direction of the +sunlight, but it was impossible. + +While he was standing there, anxious and hesitating, he heard the drum +taps. The rhythmical beats proceeded from some distance off. The unseen +drummer seemed to be marching through the forest, away from him. + +“Surtur!” he said, under his breath. The next moment he marvelled at +himself for uttering the name. That mysterious being had not been in his +thoughts, nor was there any ostensible connection between him and the +drumming. + +He began to reflect—but in the meantime the sounds were travelling away. +Automatically he started walking in the same direction. The drum beats +had this peculiarity—though odd and mystical, there was nothing awe- +inspiring in them, but on the contrary they reminded him of some place +and some life with which he was perfectly familiar. Once again they +caused all his other sense impressions to appear false. + +The sounds were intermittent. They would go on for a minute, or for five +minutes, and then cease for perhaps a quarter of an hour. Maskull +followed them as well as he could. He walked hard among the huge, +indistinct trees, in the attempt to come up with the origin of the +noise, but the same distance always seemed to separate them. The forest +from now onward descended. The gradient was mostly gentle—about one foot +in ten—but in some places it was much steeper, and in other parts again +it was practically level ground for quite long stretches. There were +great swampy marshes, through which Maskull was obliged to splash. It +was a matter of indifference to him how wet he became—if only he could +catch sight of that individual with the drum. Mile after mile was +covered, and still he was no nearer to doing so. + +The gloom of the forest settled down upon his spirits. He felt +despondent, tired, and savage. He had not heard the drum beats for some +while, and was half inclined to discontinue the pursuit. + +Passing around a great, columnar tree trunk, he almost stumbled against +a man who was standing on the farther side. He was leaning against the +trunk with one hand, in an attitude of repose. His other hand was +resting on a staff. Maskull stopped short and stared at him. + +He was nearly naked, and of gigantic build. He over-topped Maskull by a +head. His face and body were faintly phosphorescent. His eyes—three in +number—were pale green and luminous, shining like lamps. His skin was +hairless, but the hair of his head was piled up in thick, black coils, +and fastened like a woman’s. His features were absolutely tranquil, but +a terrible, quiet energy seemed to lie just underneath the surface. + +Maskull addressed him. “Did the drumming come from you?” + +The man shook his head. + +“What is your name?” + +He replied in a strange, strained, twisted voice. Maskull gathered that +the name he gave was “Dreamsinter.” + +“What is that drumming?” + +“Surtur,” said Dreamsinter. + +“Is it advisable for me to follow it?” + +“Why?” + +“Perhaps he intends me to. He brought me here from Earth.” + +Dreamsinter caught hold of him, bent down, and peered into his face. +“Not you, but Nightspore.” + +This was the first time that Maskull had heard Nightspore’s name since +his arrival on the planet. He was so astonished that he could frame no +more questions. + +“Eat this,” said Dreamsinter. “Then we will chase the sound together.” +He picked something up from the ground and handed it to Maskull. He +could not see distinctly, but it felt like a hard, round nut, of the +size of a fist. + +“I can’t crack it.” + +Dreamsinter took it between his hands, and broke it into pieces. Maskull +then ate some of the pulpy interior, which was intensely disagreeable. + +“What am I doing in Tormance, then?” he asked. + +“You came to steal Muspel-fire, to give a deeper life to men—never +doubting if your soul could endure that burning.” + +Maskull could hardly decipher the strangled words. + +“Muspel.... That’s the name I’ve been trying to remember ever since I +awoke.” + +Dreamsinter suddenly turned his head sideways, and appeared to listen +for something. He motioned with his hand to Maskull to keep quiet. + +“Is it the drumming?” + +“Hush! They come.” + +He was looking toward the upper forest. The now familiar drum rhythm was +heard—this time accompanied by the tramp of marching feet. + +Maskull saw, marching through the trees and heading toward them, three +men in single file separated from one another by only a yard or so. They +were travelling down hill at a swift pace, and looked neither to left +nor right. They were naked. Their figures were shining against the black +background of the forest with a pale, supernatural light—green and +ghostly. When they were abreast of him, about twenty feet off, he +perceived who they were. The first man was himself—Maskull. The second +was Krag. The third man was Nightspore. Their faces were grim and set. + +The source of the drumming was out of sight. The sound appeared to come +from some point in front of them. Maskull and Dreamsinter put themselves +in motion, to keep up with the swiftly moving marchers. At the same time +a low, faint music began. + +Its rhythm stepped with the drum beats, but, unlike the latter, it did +not seem to proceed from any particular quarter of the forest. It +resembled the subjective music heard in dreams, which accompanies the +dreamer everywhere, as a sort of natural atmosphere, rendering all his +experiences emotional. It seemed to issue from an unearthly orchestra, +and was strongly troubled, pathetic and tragic. Maskull marched, and +listened; and as he listened, it grew louder and stormier. But the pulse +of the drum interpenetrated all the other sounds, like the quiet beating +of reality. + +His emotion deepened. He could not have said if minutes or hours were +passing. The spectral procession marched on, a little way ahead, on a +path parallel with his own and Dreamsinter’s. The music pulsated +violently. Krag lifted his arm, and displayed a long, murderous-looking +knife. He sprang forward and, raising it over the phantom Maskull’s +back, stabbed him twice, leaving the knife in the wound the second time. +Maskull threw up his arms, and fell down dead. Krag leaped into the +forest and vanished from sight. Nightspore marched on alone, stern and +unmoved. + +The music rose to crescendo. The whole dim, gigantic forest was roaring +with sound. The tones came from all sides, from above, from the ground +under their feet. It was so grandly passionate that Maskull felt his +soul loosening from its bodily envelope. + +He continued to follow Nightspore. A strange brightness began to glow in +front of them. It was not daylight, but a radiance such as he had never +seen before, and such as he could not have imagined to be possible. +Nightspore moved straight toward it. Maskull felt his chest bursting. +The light flashed higher. The awful harmonies of the music followed hard +one upon another, like the waves of a wild, magic ocean.... His body was +incapable of enduring such shocks, and all of a sudden he tumbled over +in a faint that resembled death. + + + +Chapter 14. POLECRAB + +The morning slowly passed. Maskull made some convulsive movements, and +opened his eyes. He sat up, blinking. All was night-like and silent in +the forest. The strange light had gone, the music had ceased, +Dreamsinter had vanished. He fingered his beard, clotted with Tydomin’s +blood, and fell into a deep muse. + +“According to Panawe and Catice, this forest contains wise men. Perhaps +Dreamsinter was one. Perhaps that vision I have just seen was a specimen +of his wisdom. It looked almost like an answer to my question.... I +ought not to have asked about myself, but about Surtur. Then I would +have got a different answer. I might have learned something... I might +have seen him.” + +He remained quiet and apathetic for a bit. + +“But I couldn’t face that awful glare,” he proceeded. “It was bursting +my body. He warned me, too. And so Surtur does really exist, and my +journey stands for something. But why am I here, and what can I do? Who +is Surtur? Where is he to be found?” + +Something wild came into his eyes. + +“What did Dreamsinter mean by his ‘Not you, but Nightspore’? Am I a +secondary character—is he regarded as important; and I as unimportant? +Where is Nightspore, and what is he doing? Am I to wait for his time and +pleasure—can I originate nothing?” + +He continued sitting up, with straight-extended legs. + +“I must make up my mind that this is a strange journey, and that the +strangest things will happen in it. It’s no use making plans, for I +can’t see two steps ahead—everything is unknown. But one thing’s +evident: nothing but the wildest audacity will carry me through, and I +must sacrifice everything else to that. And therefore if Surtur shows +himself again, I shall go forward to meet him, even if it means death.” + +Through the black, quiet aisles of the forest the drum beats came again. +The sound was a long way off and very faint. It was like the last +mutterings of thunder after a heavy storm. Maskull listened, without +getting up. The drumming faded into silence, and did not return. + +He smiled queerly, and said aloud, “Thanks, Surtur! I accept the omen.” + +When he was about to get up, he found that the shrivelled skin that had +been his third arm was flapping disconcertingly with every movement of +his body. He made perforations in it all around, as close to his chest +as possible, with the fingernails of both hands; then he carefully +twisted it off. In that world of rapid growth and ungrowth he judged +that the stump would soon disappear. After that, he rose and peered into +the darkness. + +The forest at that point sloped rather steeply and, without thinking +twice about it, he took the downhill direction, never doubting it would +bring him somewhere. As soon as he started walking, his temper became +gloomy and morose—he was shaken, tired, dirty, and languid with hunger; +moreover, he realised that the walk was not going to be a short one. Be +that as it may, he determined to sit down no more until the whole dismal +forest was at his back. + +One after another the shadowy, houselike trees were observed, avoided, +and passed. Far overhead the little patch of glowing sky was still +always visible; otherwise he had no clue to the time of day. He +continued tramping sullenly down the slope for many damp, slippery +miles—in some places through bogs. When, presently, the twilight seemed +to thin, he guessed that the open world was not far away. The forest +grew more palpable and grey, and now he saw its majesty better. The tree +trunks were like round towers, and so wide were the intervals that they +resembled natural amphitheatres. He could not make out the colour of the +bark. Everything he saw amazed him, but his admiration was of the +growling, grudging kind. The difference in light between the forest +behind him and the forest ahead became so marked that he could no longer +doubt that he was on the point of coming out. + +Real light was in front of him; looking back, he found he had a shadow. +The trunks acquired a reddish tint. He quickened his pace. As the +minutes went by, the bright patch ahead grew luminous and vivid; it had +a tinge of blue. He also imagined that he heard the sound of surf. + +All that part of the forest toward which he was moving became rich with +colour. The boles of the trees were of a deep, dark red; their leaves, +high above his head, were ulfire-hued; the dead leaves on the ground +were of a colour he could not name. At the same time he discovered the +use of his third eye. By adding a third angle to his sight, every object +he looked at stood out in greater relief. The world looked less +flat—more realistic and significant. He had a stronger attraction toward +his surroundings; he seemed somehow to lose his egotism, and to become +free and thoughtful. + +Now through the last trees he saw full daylight. Less than half a mile +separated him from the border of the forest, and, eager to discover what +lay beyond, he broke into a run. He heard the surf louder. It was a +peculiar hissing sound that could proceed only from water, yet was +unlike the sea. Almost immediately he came within sight of an enormous +horizon of dancing waves, which he knew must be the Sinking Sea. He fell +back into a quick walk, continuing to stare hard. The wind that met him +was hot, fresh and sweet. + +When he arrived at the final fringe of forest, which joined the wide +sands of the shore without any change of level, he leaned with his back +to a great tree and gazed his fill, motionless, at what lay in front of +him. The sands continued east and west in a straight line, broken only +here and there by a few creeks. They were of a brilliant orange colour, +but there were patches of violet. The forest appeared to stand sentinel +over the shore for its entire length. Everything else was sea and sky—he +had never seen so much water. The semicircle of the skyline was so vast +that he might have imagined himself on a flat world, with a range of +vision determined only by the power of his eye. The sea was unlike any +sea on Earth. It resembled an immense liquid opal. On a body colour of +rich, magnificent emerald-green, flashes of red, yellow, and blue were +everywhere shooting up and vanishing. The wave motion was extraordinary. +Pinnacles of water were slowly formed until they attained a height of +perhaps ten or twenty feet, when they would suddenly sink downward and +outward, creating in their descent a series of concentric rings for long +distances around them. Quickly moving currents, like rivers in the sea, +could be seen, racing away from land; they were of a darker green and +bore no pinnacles. Where the sea met the shore, the waves rushed over +the sands far in, with almost sinister rapidity—accompanied by a weird, +hissing, spitting sound, which was what Maskull had heard. The green +tongues rolled in without foam. + +About twenty miles distant, as he judged, directly opposite him, a long, +low island stood up from the sea, black and not distinguished in +outline. It was Swaylone’s Island. Maskull was less interested in that +than in the blue sunset that glowed behind its back. Alppain had set, +but the whole northern sky was plunged into the minor key by its +afterlight. Branchspell in the zenith was white and overpowering, the +day was cloudless and terrifically hot; but where the blue sun had sunk, +a sombre shadow seemed to overhang the world. Maskull had a feeling of +disintegration—just as if two chemically distinct forces were +simultaneously acting upon the cells of his body. Since the afterglow of +Alppain affected him like this, he thought it more than likely that he +would never be able to face that sun itself, and go on living. Still, +some modification might happen to him that would make it possible. + +The sea tempted him. He made up his mind to bathe, and at once walked +toward the shore. The instant he stepped outside the shadow line of the +forest trees, the blinding rays of the sun beat down on him so savagely +that for a few minutes he felt sick and his head swam. He trod quickly +across the sands. The orange-coloured parts were nearly hot enough to +roast food, he judged, but the violet parts were like fire itself. He +stepped on a patch in ignorance, and immediately jumped high into the +air with a startled yell. + +The sea was voluptuously warm. It would not bear his weight, so he +determined to try swimming. First of all he stripped off his skin +garment, washed it thoroughly with sand and water, and laid it in the +sun to dry. Then he scrubbed himself as well as he could and washed out +his beard and hair. After that, he waded in a long way, until the water +reached his breast, and took to swimming—avoiding the spouts as far as +possible He found it no pastime. The water was everywhere of unequal +density. In some places he could swim, in others he could barely save +himself from drowning, in others again he could not force himself +beneath the surface at all. There were no outward signs to show what the +water ahead held in store for him. The whole business was most +dangerous. + +He came out, feeling clean and invigorated. For a time he walked up and +down the sands, drying himself in the hot sunshine and looking around +him. He was a naked stranger in a huge, foreign, mystical world, and +whichever way he turned, unknown and threatening forces were glaring at +him. The gigantic, white, withering Branchspell, the awful, body- +changing Alppain, the beautiful, deadly, treacherous sea, the dark and +eerie Swaylone’s Island, the spirit-crushing forest out of which he had +just escaped—to all these mighty powers, surrounding him on every side, +what resources had he, a feeble, ignorant traveller from a tiny planet +on the other side of space, to oppose, to avoid being utterly +destroyed?... Then he smiled to himself. “I’ve already been here two +days, and still I survive. I have luck—and with that one can balance the +universe. But what is luck—a verbal expression, or a thing?” + +As he was putting on his skin, which was now dry, the answer came to +him, and this time he was grave. “Surtur brought me here, and Surtur is +watching over me. That is my ‘luck.’... But what is Surtur in this +world?... How is he able to protect me against the blind and +ungovernable forces of nature? Is he stronger than Nature?...” + +Hungry as he was for food, he was hungrier still for human society, for +he wished to inquire about all these things. He asked himself which way +he should turn his steps. There were only two ways; along the shore, +either east or west. The nearest creek lay to the east, cutting the +sands about a mile away. He walked toward it. + +The forest face was forbidding and enormously high. It was so squarely +turned to the sea that it looked as though it had been planed by tools. +Maskull strode along in the shade of the trees, but kept his head +constantly turned away from them, toward the sea—there it was more +cheerful. The creek, when he reached it, proved to be broad and flat- +banked. It was not a river, but an arm of the sea. Its still, dark green +water curved around a bend out of sight, into the forest. The trees on +both banks overhung the water, so that it was completely in shadow. + +He went as far as the bend, beyond which another short reach appeared. A +man was sitting on a narrow shelf of bank, with his feet in the water. +He was clothed in a coarse, rough hide, which left his limbs bare. He +was short, thick, and sturdy, with short legs and a long, powerful arms, +terminating in hands of an extraordinary size. He was oldish. His face +was plain, slablike, and expressionless; it was full of wrinkles, and +walnut-coloured. Both face and head were bald, and his skin was tough +and leathery. He seemed to be some sort of peasant, or fisherman; there +was no trace in his face of thought for others, or delicacy of feeling. +He possessed three eyes, of different colors—jade-green, blue, and +ulfire. + +In front of him, riding on the water, moored to the bank, was an +elementary raft, consisting of the branches of trees, clumsily corded +together. + +Maskull addressed him. “Are you another of the wise men of the Wombflash +Forest?” + +The man answered him in a gruff, husky voice, looking up as he did so. +“I’m a fisherman. I know nothing about wisdom.” + +“What name do you go by?” + +“Polecrab. What’s yours?” + +“Maskull. If you’re a fisherman, you ought to have fish. I’m famishing.” + +Polecrab grunted, and paused a minute before answering. + +“There’s fish enough. My dinner is cooking in the sands now. It’s easy +enough to get you some more.” + +Maskull found this a pleasant speech. + +“But how long will it take?” he asked. + +The man slid the palms of his hands together, producing a shrill, +screeching noise. He lifted his feet from the water, and clambered onto +the bank. In a minute or two a curious little beast came crawling up to +his feet, turning its face and eyes up affectionately, like a dog. It +was about two feet long, and somewhat resembled a small seal, but had +six legs, ending in strong claws. + +“Arg, go fish!” said Polecrab hoarsely. + +The animal immediately tumbled off the bank into the water. It swam +gracefully to the middle of the creek and made a pivotal dive beneath +the surface, where it remained a great while. + +“Simple fishing,” remarked Maskull. “But what’s the raft for?” + +“To go to sea with. The best fish are out at sea. These are eatable.” + +“That arg seems a highly intelligent creature.” + +Polecrab grunted again. “I’ve trained close on a hundred of them. The +bigheads learn best, but they’re slow swimmers. The narrowheads swim +like eels, but can’t be taught. Now I’ve started interbreeding them—he’s +one of them.” + +“Do you live here alone?” + +“No, I’ve got a wife and three boys. My wife’s sleeping somewhere, but +where the lads are, Shaping knows.” + +Maskull began to feel very much at home with this unsophisticated being. + +“The raft’s all crazy,” he remarked, staring at it. “If you go far out +in that, you’ve got more pluck than I have.” + +“I’ve been to Matterplay on it,” said Polecrab. + +The arg reappeared and started swimming to shore, but this time +clumsily, as if it were bearing a heavy weight under the surface. When +it landed at its master’s feet, they saw that each set of claws was +clutching a fish—six in all. Polecrab took them from it. He proceeded to +cut off the heads and tails with a sharp-edged stone which he picked up; +these he threw to the arg, which devoured them without any fuss. + +Polecrab beckoned to Maskull to follow him and, carrying the fish, +walked toward the open shore, by the same way that he had come. When +they reached the sands, he sliced the fish, removed the entrails, and +digging a shallow hole in a patch of violet sand, placed the remainder +of the carcasses in it, and covered them over again. Then he dug up his +own dinner. Maskull’s nostrils quivered at the savoury smell, but he was +not yet to dine. + +Polecrab, turning to go with the cooked fish in his hands, said, “These +are mine, not yours. When yours are done, you can come back and join me, +supposing you want company.” + +“How soon will that be?” + +“About twenty minutes,” replied the fisherman, over his shoulder. + +Maskull sheltered himself in the shadows of the forest, and waited. When +the time had approximately elapsed, he disinterred his meal, scorching +his fingers in the operation, although it was only the surface of the +sand which was so intensely hot. Then he returned to Polecrab. + +In the warm, still air and cheerful shade of the inlet, they munched in +silence, looking from their food to the sluggish water, and back again. +With every mouthful Maskull felt his strength returning. He finished +before Polecrab, who ate like a man for whom time has no value. When he +had done, he stood up. + +“Come and drink,” he said, in his husky voice. + +Maskull looked at him inquiringly. + +The man led him a little way into the forest, and walked straight up to +a certain tree. At a convenient height in its trunk a hole had been +tapped and plugged. Polecrab removed the plug and put his mouth to the +aperture, sucking for quite a long time, like a child at its mother’s +breast. Maskull, watching him, imagined that he saw his eyes growing +brighter. + +When his own turn came to drink, he found the juice of the tree somewhat +like coconut milk in flavour, but intoxicating. It was a new sort of +intoxication, however, for neither his will not his emotions were +excited, but only his intellect—and that only in a certain way. His +thoughts and images were not freed and loosened, but on the contrary +kept labouring and swelling painfully, until they reached the full +beauty of an aperçu, which would then flame up in his consciousness, +burst, and vanish. After that, the whole process started over again. But +there was never a moment when he was not perfectly cool, and master of +his senses. When each had drunk twice, Polecrab replugged the hole, and +they returned to their bank. + +“Is it Blodsombre yet?” asked Maskull, sprawling on the ground, well +content. + +Polecrab resumed his old upright sitting posture, with his feet in the +water. “Just beginning,” was his hoarse response. + +“Then I must stay here till it’s over.... Shall we talk?” + +“We can,” said the other, without enthusiasm. + +Maskull glanced at him through half-closed lids, wondering if he were +exactly what he seemed to be. In his eyes he thought he detected a wise +light. + +“Have you travelled much, Polecrab?” + +“Not what you would call travelling.” + +“You tell me you’ve been to Matterplay—what kind of country is that?” + +“I don’t know. I went there to pick up flints.” + +“What countries lie beyond it?” + +“Threal comes next, as you go north. They say it’s a land of mystics... +I don’t know.” + +“Mystics?” + +“So I’m told.... Still farther north there’s Lichstorm.” + +“Now we’re going far afield.” + +“There are mountains there—and altogether it must be a very dangerous +place, especially for a full-blooded man like you. Take care of +yourself.” + +“This is rather premature, Polecrab. How do you know I’m going there?” + +“As you’ve come from the south, I suppose you’ll go north.” + +“Well, that’s right enough,” said Maskull, staring hard at him. “But how +do you know I’ve come from the south?” + +“Well, then, perhaps you haven’t—but there’s a look of Ifdawn about +you.” + +“What kind of look?” + +“A tragical look,” said Polecrab. He never even glanced at Maskull, but +was gazing at a fixed spot on the water with unblinking eyes. + +“What lies beyond Lichstorm?” asked Maskull, after a minute or two. + +“Barey, where you have two suns instead of one—but beyond that fact I +know nothing about it.... Then comes the ocean.” + +“And what’s on the other side of the ocean?” + +“That you must find out for yourself, for I doubt if anybody has ever +crossed it and come back.” + +Maskull was silent for a little while. + +“How is it that your people are so unadventurous? I seem to be the only +one travelling from curiosity.” + +“What do you mean by ‘your people’?” + +“True—you don’t know that I don’t belong to your planet at all. I’ve +come from another world, Polecrab.” + +“What to find?” + +“I came here with Krag and Nightspore—to follow Surtur. I must have +fainted the moment I arrived. When I sat up, it was night and the others +had vanished. Since then I’ve been travelling at random.” + +Polecrab scratched his nose. “You haven’t found Surtur yet?” + +“I’ve heard his drum taps frequently. In the forest this morning I came +quite close to him. Then two days ago, in the Lusion Plain, I saw a +vision—a being in man’s shape, who called himself Surtur.” + +“Well, maybe it was Surtur.” + +“No, that’s impossible,” replied Maskull reflectively. “It was +Crystalman. And it isn’t a question of my suspecting it—I know it.” + +“How?” + +“Because this is Crystalman’s world, and Surtur’s world is something +quite different.” + +“That’s queer, then,” said Polecrab. + +“Since I’ve come out of that forest,” proceeded Maskull, talking half to +himself, “a change has come over me, and I see things differently. +Everything here looks much more solid and real in my eyes than in other +places so much so that I can’t entertain the least doubt of its +existence. It not only looks real, it is real—and on that I would stake +my life.... But at the same time that it’s real, it is false.” + +“Like a dream?” + +“No—not at all like a dream, and that’s just what I want to explain. +This world of yours—and perhaps of mine too, for that matter—doesn’t +give me the slightest impression of a dream, or an illusion, or anything +of that sort. I know it’s really here at this moment, and it’s exactly +as we’re seeing it, you and I. Yet it’s false. It’s false in this sense, +Polecrab. Side by side with it another world exists, and that other +world is the true one, and this one is all false and deceitful, to the +very core. And so it occurs to me that reality and falseness are two +words for the same thing.” + +“Perhaps there is such another world,” said Polecrab huskily. “But did +that vision also seem real and false to you?” + +“Very real, but not false then, for then I didn’t understand all this. +But just because it was real, it couldn’t have been Surtur, who has no +connection with reality.” + +“Didn’t those drum taps sound real to you?” + +“I had to hear them with my ears, and so they sounded real to me. Still, +they were somehow different, and they certainly came from Surtur. If I +didn’t hear them correctly, that was my fault and not his.” + +Polecrab growled a little. “If Surtur chooses to speak to you in that +fashion, it appears he’s trying to say something.” + +“What else can I think? But, Polecrab, what’s your opinion—is he calling +me to the life after death?” + +The old man stirred uneasily. “I’m a fisherman,” he said, after a minute +or two. “I live by killing, and so does everybody. This life seems to me +all wrong. So maybe life of any kind is wrong, and Surtur’s world is not +life at all, but something else.” + +“Yes, but will death lead me to it, whatever it is?” + +“Ask the dead,” said Polecrab, “and not a living man.” + +Maskull continued. “In the forest I heard music and saw a light, which +could not have belonged to this world. They were too strong for my +senses, and I must have fainted for a long time. There was a vision as +well, in which I saw myself killed, while Nightspore walked on toward +the light, alone.” + +Polecrab uttered his grunt. “You have enough to think over.” + +A short silence ensued, which was broken by Maskull. + +“So strong is my sense of the untruth of this present life, that it may +come to my putting an end to myself.” The fisherman remained quiet and +immobile. + +Maskull lay on his stomach, propped his face on his hands, and stared at +him. “What do you think, Polecrab? Is it possible for any man, while in +the body, to gain a closer view of that other world than I have done?” + +“I am an ignorant man, stranger, so I can’t say. Perhaps there are many +others like you who would gladly know.” + +“Where? I should like to meet them.” + +“Do you think you were made of one stuff, and the rest of mankind of +another stuff?” + +“I can’t be so presumptuous. Possibly all men are reaching out toward +Muspel, in most cases without being aware of it.” + +“In the wrong direction,” said Polecrab. + +Maskull gave him a strange look. “How so?” + +“I don’t speak from my own wisdom,” said Polecrab, “for I have none; but +I have just now recalled what Broodviol once told me, when I was a young +man, and he was an old one. He said that Crystalman tries to turn all +things into one, and that whichever way his shapes march, in order to +escape from him, they find themselves again face to face with +Crystalman, and are changed into new crystals. But that this marching of +shapes (which we call ‘forking’) springs from the unconscious desire to +find Surtur, but is in the opposite direction to the right one. For +Surtur’s world does not lie on this side of the one, which was the +beginning of life, but on the other side; and to get to it we must +repass through the one. But this can only be by renouncing our self- +life, and reuniting ourselves to the whole of Crystalman’s world. And +when this has been done, it is only the first stage of the journey; +though many good men imagine it to be the whole journey.... As far as I +can remember, that is what Broodviol said, but perhaps, as I was then a +young and ignorant man, I may have left out words which would explain +his meaning better.” + +Maskull, who had listened attentively to all this, remained thoughtful +at the end. + +“It’s plain enough,” he said. “But what did he mean by our reuniting +ourselves to Crystalman’s world? If it is false, are we to make +ourselves false as well?” + +“I didn’t ask him that question, and you are as well qualified to answer +it as I am.” + +“He must have meant that, as it is, we are each of us living in a false, +private world of our own, a world of dreams and appetites and distorted +perceptions. By embracing the great world we certainly lose nothing in +truth and reality.” + +Polecrab withdrew his feet from the water, stood up, yawned, and +stretched his limbs. + +“I have told you all I know,” he said in a surly voice. “Now let me go +to sleep.” + +Maskull kept his eyes fixed on him, but made no reply. The old man let +himself down stiffly on to the ground, and prepared to rest. + +While he was still arranging his position to his liking, a footfall +sounded behind the two men, coming from the direction of the forest. +Maskull twisted his neck, and saw a woman approaching them. He at once +guessed that it was Polecrab’s wife. He sat up, but the fisherman did +not stir. The woman came and stood in front of them, looking down from +what appeared a great height. + +Her dress was similar to her husband’s, but covered her limbs more. She +was young, tall, slender, and strikingly erect. Her skin was lightly +tanned, and she looked strong, but not at all peasantlike. Refinement +was stamped all over her. Her face had too much energy of expression for +a woman, and she was not beautiful. Her three great eyes kept flashing +and glowing. She had great masses of fine, yellow hair, coiled up and +fastened, but so carelessly that some of the strands were flowing down +her back. + +When she spoke, it was in a rather weak voice, but full of lights and +shades, and somehow intense passionateness never seemed to be far away +from it. + +“Forgiveness is asked for listening to your conversation,” she said, +addressing Maskull. “I was resting behind the tree, and heard it all.” + +He got up slowly. “Are you Polecrab’s wife?” + +“She is my wife,” said Polecrab, “and her name is Gleameil. Sit down +again, stranger—and you too, wife, since you are here.” + +They both obeyed. “I heard everything,” repeated Gleameil. “But what I +did not hear was where you are going to, Maskull, after you have left +us.” + +“I know no more than you do.” + +“Listen, then. There’s only one place for you to go to, and that is +Swaylone’s Island. I will ferry you across myself before sunset.” + +“What shall I find there?” + +“He may go, wife,” put in the old man hoarsely, “but I won’t allow you +to go. I will take him over myself.” + +“No, you have always put me off,” said Gleameil, with some emotion. +“This time I mean to go. When Teargeld shines at night, and I sit on the +shore here, listening to Earthrid’s music travelling faintly across the +sea, I am tortured—I can’t endure it.... I have long since made up my +mind to go to the island, and see what this music is. If it’s bad, if it +kills me—well.” + +“What have I to do with the man and his music, Gleameil?” demanded +Maskull. + +“I think the music will answer all your questions better than Polecrab +has done—and possibly in a way that will surprise you.” + +“What kind of music can it be to travel all those miles across the sea?” + +“A peculiar kind, so we are told. Not pleasant, but painful. And the man +that can play the instrument of Earthrid would be able to conjure up the +most astonishing forms, which are not phantasms, but realities.” + +“That may be so,” growled Polecrab. “But I have been to the island by +daylight, and what did I find there? Human bones, new and ancient. Those +are Earthrid’s victims. And you, wife, shall not go.” + +“But will that music play tonight?” asked Maskull. + +“Yes,” replied Gleameil, gazing at him intently. “When Teargeld rises, +which is our moon.” + +“If Earthrid plays men to death, it appears to me that his own death is +due. In any case I should like to hear those sounds for myself. But as +for taking you with me, Gleameil—women die too easily in Tormance. I +have only just now washed myself clean of the death blood of another +woman.” + +Gleameil laughed, but said nothing. + +“Now go to sleep,” said Polecrab. “When the time comes, I will take you +across myself.” + +He lay down again, and closed his eyes. Maskull followed his example; +but Gleameil remained sitting erect, with her legs under her. + +“Who was that other woman, Maskull?” she asked presently. + +He did not answer, but pretended to sleep. + + + +Chapter 15. SWAYLONE’S ISLAND + +When he awoke, the day was not so bright, and he guessed it was late +afternoon. Polecrab and his wife were both on their feet, and another +meal of fish had been cooked and was waiting for him. + +“Is it decided who is to go with me?” he asked, before sitting down. + +“I go,” said Gleameil. + +“Do you agree, Polecrab?” + +The fisherman growled a little in his throat and motioned to the others +to take their seats. He took a mouthful before answering. + +“Something strong is attracting her, and I can’t hold her back. I don’t +think I shall see you again, wife, but the lads are now nearly old +enough to fend for themselves.” + +“Don’t take dejected views,” replied Gleameil sternly. She was not +eating. “I shall come back, and make amends to you. It’s only for a +night.” + +Maskull gazed from one to the other in perplexity. “Let me go alone. I +would be sorry if anything happened.” + +Gleameil shook her head. + +“Don’t regard this as a woman’s caprice,” she said. “Even if you hadn’t +passed this way, I would have heard that music soon. I have a hunger for +it.” + +“Haven’t you any such feeling, Polecrab?” + +“No. A woman is a noble and sensitive creature, and there are +attractions in nature too subtle for males. Take her with you, since she +is set on it. Maybe she’s right. Perhaps Earthrid’s music will answer +your questions, and hers too.” + +“What are your questions, Gleameil?” + +The woman shed a strange smile. “You may be sure that a question which +requires music for an answer can’t be put into words.” + +“If you are not back by the morning,” remarked her husband, “I will know +you are dead.” + +The meal was finished in a constrained silence. Polecrab wiped his +mouth, and produced a seashell from a kind of pocket. + +“Will you say goodbye to the boys? Shall I call them?” She considered a +moment. + +“Yes—yes, I must see them.” + +He put the shell to his mouth, and blew; a loud, mournful noise passed +through the air. + +A few minutes later there was a sound of scurrying footsteps, and the +boys were seen emerging from the forest. Maskull looked with curiosity +at the first children he had seen on Tormance. The oldest boy was +carrying the youngest on his back, while the third trotted some distance +behind. The child was let down, and all the three formed a semicircle in +front of Maskull, standing staring up at him with wide-open eyes. +Polecrab looked on stolidly, but Gleameil glanced away from them, with +proudly raised head and a baffling expression. + +Maskull put the ages of the boys at about nine, seven, and five years, +respectively; but he was calculating according to Earth time. The eldest +was tall, slim, but strongly built. He, like his brothers, was naked, +and his skin from top to toe was ulfire-colored. His facial muscles +indicated a wild and daring nature, and his eyes were like green fires. +The second showed promise of being a broad, powerful man. His head was +large and heavy, and drooped. His face and skin were reddish. His eyes +were almost too sombre and penetrating for a child’s. + +“That one,” said Polecrab, pinching the boy’s ear, “may perhaps grow up +to be a second Broodviol.” + +“Who was that?” demanded the boy, bending his head forward to hear the +answer. + +“A big, old man, of marvellous wisdom. He became wise by making up his +mind never to ask questions, but to find things out for himself.” + +“If I had not asked this question, I should not have known about him.” + +“That would not have mattered,” replied the father. + +The youngest child was paler and slighter than his brothers. His face +was mostly tranquil and expressionless, but it had this peculiarity +about it, that every few minutes, without any apparent cause, it would +wrinkle up and look perplexed. At these times his eyes, which were of a +tawny gold, seemed to contain secrets difficult to associate with one of +his age. + +“He puzzles me,” said Polecrab. “He has a soul like sap, and he’s +interested in nothing. He may turn out to be the most remarkable of the +bunch.” + +Maskull took the child in one hand, and lifted him as high as his head. +He took a good look at him, and set him down again. The boy never +changed countenance. + +“What do you make of him?” asked the fisherman. + +“It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, but it just escapes me. Let me +drink again, and then I shall have it.” + +“Go and drink, then.” + +Maskull strode over to the tree, drank, and returned. “In ages to come,” +he said, speaking deliberately, “he will be a grand and awful tradition. +A seer possibly, or even a divinity. Watch over him well.” + +The eldest boy looked scornful. “I want to be none of those things. I +would like to be like that big fellow.” And he pointed his finger at +Maskull. + +He laughed, and showed his white teeth through his beard. “Thanks for +the compliments old warrior!” he said. + +“He’s great and brawny,” continued the boy, “and can hold his own with +other men. Can you hold me up with one arm, as you did that child?” + +Maskull complied. + +“That is being a man!” exclaimed the boy. “Enough!” said Polecrab +impatiently. “I called you lads here to say goodbye to your mother. She +is going away with this man. I think she may not return, but we don’t +know.” + +The second boy’s face became suddenly inflamed. “Is she going of her own +choice?” he inquired. + +“Yes,” replied the father. + +“Then she is bad.” He brought the words out with such force and emphasis +that they sounded like the crack of a whip. + +The old man cuffed him twice. “Is it your mother you are speaking of?” + +The boy stood his ground, without change of expression, but said +nothing. + +The youngest child spoke, for the first time. “My mother will not come +back, but she will die dancing.” + +Polecrab and his wife looked at one another. + +“Where are you going to, Mother?” asked the eldest lad. + +Gleameil bent down, and kissed him. “To the Island.” + +“Well then, if you don’t come back by tomorrow morning, I will go and +look for you.” + +Maskull grew more and more uneasy in his mind. “This seems to me to be a +man’s journey,” he said. “I think it would be better for you not to +come, Gleameil.” + +“I am not to be dissuaded,” she replied. + +He stroked his beard in perplexity. “Is it time to start?” + +“It wants four hours to sunset, and we shall need all that.” + +Maskull sighed. “I’ll go to the mouth of the creek, and wait there for +you and the raft. You will wish to make your farewells, Gleameil.” + +He then clasped Polecrab by the hand. “Adieu, fisherman!” + +“You have repaid me well for my answers,” said the old man gruffly. “But +it’s not your fault, and in Shaping’s world the worst things happen.” + +The eldest boy came close to Maskull, and frowned at him. “Farewell, big +man!” he said. “But guard my mother well, as well as you are well able +to, or I shall follow you, and kill you.” + +Maskull walked slowly along the creek bank till he came to the bend. The +glorious sunshine, and the sparkling, brilliant sea then met his eyes +again; and all melancholy was swept out of his mind. He continued as far +as the seashore, and issuing out of the shadows of the forest, strolled +on to the sands, and sat down in the full sunlight. The radiance of +Alppain had long since disappeared. He drank in the hot, invigorating +wind, listened to the hissing waves, and stared over the coloured sea +with its pinnacles and currents, at Swaylone’s Island. + +“What music can that be, which tears a wife and mother away from all she +loves the most?” he meditated. “It sounds unholy. Will it tell me what I +want to know? Can it?” + +In a little while he became aware of a movement behind him, and, turning +his head, he saw the raft floating along the creek, toward the open sea. +Polecrab was standing upright, propelling it with a rude pole. He passed +by Maskull, without looking at him, or making any salutation, and +proceeded out to sea. + +While he was wondering at this strange behaviour, Gleameil and the boys +came in sight, walking along the bank of the inlet. The eldest-born was +holding her hand, and talking; and the other two were behind. She was +calm and smiling, but seemed abstracted. + +“What is your husband doing with the raft?” asked Maskull. + +“He’s putting it in position and we shall wade out and join it,” she +answered, in her low-toned voice. + +“But how shall we make the island, without oars or sails?” + +“Don’t you see that current running away from land? See, he is +approaching it. That will take us straight there.” + +“But how can you get back?” + +“There is a way; but we need not think of that today.” + +“Why shouldn’t I come too?” demanded the eldest boy. + +“Because the raft won’t carry three. Maskull is a heavy man.” + +“It doesn’t matter,” said the boy. “I know where there is wood for +another raft. As soon as you have gone, I shall set to work.” + +Polecrab had by this time manoeuvred his flimsy craft to the position he +desired, within a few yards of the current, which at that point made a +sharp bend from the east. He shouted out some words to his wife and +Maskull. Gleameil kissed her children convulsively, and broke down a +little. The eldest boy bit his lip till it bled, and tears glistened in +his eyes; but the younger children stared wide-eyed, and displayed no +emotion. + +Gleameil now walked into the sea, followed by Maskull. The water covered +first their ankles, then their knees, but when it came as high as their +waists, they were close on the raft. Polecrab let himself down into the +water, and assisted his wife to climb over the side. When she was up, +she bent down and kissed him. No words were exchanged. Maskull scrambled +up on to the front part of the raft. The woman sat cross-legged in the +stern, and seized the pole. + +Polecrab shoved them off toward the current, while she worked her pole +until they had got within its power. The raft immediately began to +travel swiftly away from land, with a smooth, swaying motion. + +The boys waved from the shore. Gleameil responded; but Maskull turned +his back squarely to land, and gazed ahead. Polecrab was wading back to +the shore. + +For upward of an hour Maskull did not change his position by an inch. No +sound was heard but the splashing of the strange waves all around them, +and the streamlike gurgle of the current, which threaded its way +smoothly through the tossing, tumultuous sea. From their pathway of +safety, the beautiful dangers surrounding them were an exhilarating +experience. The air was fresh and clean, and the heat from Branchspell, +now low in the west, was at last endurable. The riot of sea colors had +long since banished all sadness and anxiety from his heart. Yet he felt +such a grudge against the woman for selfishly forsaking those who should +have been dear to her that he could not bring himself to begin a +conversation. + +But when, over the now enlarged shape of the dark island, he caught +sight of a long chain of lofty, distant mountains, glowing salmon-pink +in the evening sunlight, he felt constrained to break the silence by +inquiring what they were. + +“It is Lichstorm,” said Gleameil. + +Maskull asked no questions about it; but in turning to address her, his +eyes had rested on the rapidly receding Wombflash Forest, and he +continued to stare at that. They had travelled about eight miles, and +now he could better estimate the enormous height of the trees. +Overtopping them, far away, he saw Sant; and he fancied, but was not +quite sure, that he could distinguish Disscourn as well. + +“Now that we are alone in a strange place,” said Gleameil, averting her +head, and looking down over the side of the raft into the water, “tell +me what you thought of Polecrab.” + +Maskull paused before answering. “He seemed to me like a mountain +wrapped in cloud. You see the lower buttresses, and think that is all. +But then, high up, far above the clouds, you suddenly catch sight of +more mountain—and even then it is not the top.” + +“You read character well, and have great perception,” remarked Gleameil +quietly. “Now say what I am.” + +“In place of a human heart, you have a wild harp, and that’s all I know +about you.” + +“What was that you said to my husband about two worlds?” + +“You heard.” + +“Yes, I heard. And I also am conscious of two worlds. My husband and +boys are real to me, and I love them fondly. But there is another world +for me, as there is for you, Maskull, and it makes my real world appear +all false and vulgar.” + +“Perhaps we are seeking the same thing. But can it be right to satisfy +our self-nature at the expense of other people?” + +“No, it’s not right. It is wrong, and base. But in that other world +these words have no meaning.” + +There was a silence. + +“It’s useless to discuss such topics,” said Maskull. “The choice is now +out of our hands, and we must go where we are taken. What I would rather +speak about is what awaits us on the island.” + +“I am ignorant—except that we shall find Earthrid there.” + +“Who is Earthrid, and why is it called Swaylone’s Island?” + +“They say Earthrid came from Threal, but I know nothing else about him. +As for Swaylone, if you like I will tell you his legend.” + +“If you please,” said Maskull. + +“In a far-back age,” began Gleameil, “when the seas were hot, and clouds +hung heavily over the earth, and life was rich with transformations, +Swaylone came to this island, on which men had never before set foot, +and began to play his music—the first music in Tormance. Nightly, when +the moon shone, people used to gather on this shore behind us, and +listen to the faint, sweet strains floating from over the sea. One +night, Shaping (whom you call Crystalman) was passing this way in +company with Krag. They listened a while to the music, and Shaping said +‘Have you heard more beautiful sounds? This is my world and my music.’ +Krag stamped with his foot, and laughed. ‘You must do better than that, +if I am to admire it. Let us pass over, and see this bungler at work.’ +Shaping consented, and they passed over to the island. Swaylone was not +able to see their presence. Shaping stood behind him, and breathed +thoughts into his soul, so that his music became ten times lovelier, and +people listening on that shore went mad with sick delight. ‘Can any +strains be nobler?’ demanded Shaping. Krag grinned and said, ‘You are +naturally effeminate. Now let me try.’ Then he stood behind Swaylone, +and shot ugly discords fast into his head. His instrument was so +cracked, that never since has it played right. From that time forth +Swaylone could utter only distorted music; yet it called to folk more +than the other sort. Many men crossed over to the island during his +lifetime, to listen to the amazing tones, but none could endure them; +all died. After Swaylone’s death, another musician took up the tale; and +so the light has passed down from torch to torch, till now Earthrid +bears it.” + +“An interesting legend,” commented Maskull. “But who is Krag?” + +“They say that when the world was born, Krag was born with it—a spirit +compounded of those vestiges of Muspel which Shaping did not know how to +transform. Thereafter nothing has gone right with the world, for he dogs +Shaping’s footsteps everywhere, and whatever the latter does, he undoes. +To love he joins death; to sex, shame; to intellect, madness; to virtue, +cruelty; and to fair exteriors, bloody entrails. These are Krag’s +actions, so the lovers of the world call him ‘devil.’ They don’t +understand, Maskull, that without him the world would lose its beauty.” + +“Krag and beauty!” exclaimed he, with a cynical smile. + +“Even so. That same beauty which you and I are now voyaging to discover. +That beauty for whose sake I am renouncing husband, children, and +happiness.... Did you imagine beauty to be pleasant?” + +“Surely.” + +“That pleasant beauty is an insipid compound of Shaping. To see beauty +in its terrible purity, you must tear away the pleasure from it.” + +“Do you say I am going to seek beauty, Gleameil? Such an idea is far +from my mind.” + +She did not respond to his remark. After waiting for a few minutes, to +hear if she would speak again, he turned his back on her once more. +There was no more talk until they reached the island. + +The air had grown chill and damp by the time they approached its shores. +Branchspell was on the point of touching the sea. The Island appeared to +be some three or four miles in length. There were first of all broad +sands, then low, dark cliffs, and behind these a wilderness of +insignificant, swelling hills, entirely devoid of vegetation. The +current bore them to within a hundred yards of the coast, when it made a +sharp angle, and proceeded to skirt the length of the land. + +Gleameil jumped overboard, and began swimming to shore. Maskull followed +her example, and the raft, abandoned, was rapidly borne away by the +current. They soon touched ground, and were able to wade the rest of the +way. By the time they reached dry land, the sun had set. + +Gleameil made straight for the hills; and Maskull, after casting a +single glance at the low, dim outline of the Wombflash Forest, followed +her. The cliffs were soon scrambled up. Then the ascent was gentle and +easy, while the rich, dry, brown mould was good to walk upon. + +A little way off, on their left, something white was shining. + +“You need not go to it,” said the woman. “It can be nothing else than +one of those skeletons Polecrab talked about. And look—there is another +one over there!” + +“This brings it home!” remarked Maskull, smiling. + +“There is nothing comical in having died for beauty,” said Gleameil, +bending her brows at him. + +And when in the course of their walk he saw the innumerable human bones, +from gleaming white to dirty yellow, lying scattered about, as if it +were a naked graveyard among the hills, he agreed with her, and fell +into a sombre mood. + +It was still light when they reached the highest point, and could set +eyes on the other side. The sea to the north of the island was in no way +different from that which they had crossed, but its lively colors were +fast becoming invisible. + +“That is Matterplay,” said the woman, pointing her finger toward some +low land on the horizon, which seemed to be even farther off than +Wombflash. + +“I wonder how Digrung passed over,” meditated Maskull. + +Not far away, in a hollow enclosed by a circle of little hills, they saw +a small, circular lake, not more than half a mile in diameter. The +sunset colors of the sky were reflected in its waters. + +“That must be Irontick,” remarked Gleameil. + +“What is that?” + +“I have heard that it’s the instrument Earthrid plays on.” + +“We are getting close,” responded he. “Let us go and investigate.” + +When they drew nearer, they observed that a man was reclining on the +farther side, in an attitude of sleep. + +“If that’s not the man himself, who can it be?” said Maskull. “Let’s get +across the water, if it will bear us; it will save time.” + +He now assumed the lead, and took running strides down the slope which +bounded the lake on that side. Gleameil followed him with greater +dignity, keeping her eyes fixed on the recumbent man as if fascinated. +When Maskull reached the water’s edge, he tried it with one foot, to +discover if it would carry his weight. Something unusual in its +appearance led him to have doubts. It was a tranquil, dark, and +beautifully reflecting sheet of water; it resembled a mirror of liquid +metal. Finding that it would bear him, and that nothing happened, he +placed his second foot on its surface. Instantly he sustained a violent +shock throughout his body, as from a powerful electric current; and he +was hurled in a tumbled heap back on to the bank. + +He picked himself up, brushed the dirt off his person, and started +walking around the lake. Gleameil joined him, and they completed the +half circuit together. They came to the man, and Maskull prodded him +with his foot. He woke up, and blinked at them. + +His face was pale, weak, and vacant-looking, and had a disagreeable +expression. There were thin sprouts of black hair on his chin and head. +On his forehead, in place of a third eye, he possessed a perfectly +circular organ, with elaborate convolutions, like an ear. He had an +unpleasant smell. He appeared to be of young middle age. + +“Wake up, man,” said Maskull sharply, “and tell us if you are Earthrid.” + +“What time is it?” counterquestioned the man. “Does it want long to +moonrise?” + +Without appearing to care about an answer, he sat up, and turning away +from them, began to scoop up the loose soil with his hand, and to eat it +halfheartedly. + +“Now, how can you eat that filth?” demanded Maskull, in disgust. + +“Don’t be angry, Maskull,” said Gleameil, laying hold of his arm, and +flushing a little. “It is Earthrid—the man who is to help us.” + +“He has not said so.” + +“I am Earthrid,” said the other, in his weak and muffled voice, which, +however, suddenly struck Maskull as being autocratic. “What do you want +here? Or rather, you had better get away as quickly as you can, for it +will be too late when Teargeld rises.” + +“You need not explain,” exclaimed Maskull. “We know your reputation, and +we have come to hear your music. But what’s that organ for on your +forehead?” + +Earthrid glared, and smiled, and glared again. + +“That is for rhythm, which is what changes noise into music. Don’t stand +and argue, but go away. It is no pleasure to me to people the island +with corpses. They corrupt the air, and do nothing else.” + +Darkness now crept swiftly on over the landscape. + +“You are rather bigmouthed,” said Maskull coolly. “But after we have +heard you play, perhaps I shall adventure a tune myself.” + +“You? Are you a musician, then? Do you even know what music is?” + +A flame danced in Gleameil’s eyes. + +“Maskull thinks music reposes in the instrument,” she said in her +intense way. “But it is in the soul of the Master.” + +“Yes,” said Earthrid, “but that is not all. I will tell you what it is. +In Threal, where I was born and brought up, we learn the mystery of the +Three in nature. This world, which lies extended before us, has three +directions. Length is the line which shuts off what is, from what is +not. Breadth is the surface which shows us in what manner one thing of +what-is, lives with another thing. Depth is the path which leads from +what-is, to our own body. In music it is not otherwise. Tone is +existence, without which nothing at all can be. Symmetry and Numbers are +the manner in which tones exist, one with another. Emotion is the +movement of our soul toward the wonderful world that is being created. +Now, men when they make music are accustomed to build beautiful tones, +because of the delight they cause. Therefore their music world is based +on pleasure; its symmetry is regular and charming, its emotion is sweet +and lovely.... But my music is founded on painful tones; and thus its +symmetry is wild, and difficult to discover; its emotion is bitter and +terrible.” + +“If I had not anticipated its being original, I would not have come +here,” said Maskull. “Still, explain—why can’t harsh tones have simple +symmetry of form? And why must they necessarily cause more profound +emotions in us who listen?” + +“Pleasures may harmonise. Pains must clash; and in the order of their +clashing lies the symmetry. The emotions follow the music, which is +rough and earnest.” + +“You may call it music,” remarked Maskull thoughtfully, “but to me it +bears a closer resemblance to actual life.” + +“If Shaping’s plans had gone straight, life would have been like that +other sort of music. He who seeks can find traces of that intention in +the world of nature. But as it has turned out, real life resembles my +music and mine is the true music.” + +“Shall we see living shapes?” + +“I don’t know what my mood will be,” returned Earthrid. “But when I have +finished, you shall adventure your tune, and produce whatever shapes you +please—unless, indeed, the tune is out of your own big body.” + +“The shocks you are preparing may kill us,” said Gleameil, in a low, +taut voice, “but we shall die, seeing beauty.” + +Earthrid looked at her with a dignified expression. + +“Neither you, nor any other person, can endure the thoughts which I put +into my music. Still, you must have it your own way. It needed a woman +to call it ‘beauty.’ But if this is beauty, what is ugliness?” + +“That I can tell you, Master,” replied Gleameil, smiling at him. +“Ugliness is old, stale life, while yours every night issues fresh from +the womb of nature.” + +Earthrid stared at her, without response. “Teargeld is rising,” he said +at last. “And now you shall see—though not for long.” + +As the words left his mouth, the full moon peeped over the hills in the +dark eastern sky. They watched it in silence, and soon it was wholly up. +It was larger than the moon of Earth, and seemed nearer. Its shadowy +parts stood out in just as strong relief, but somehow it did not give +Maskull the impression of being a dead world. Branchspell shone on the +whole of it, but Alppain only on a part. The broad crescent that +reflected Branchspell’s rays alone was white and brilliant; but the part +that was illuminated by both suns shone with a greenish radiance that +had almost solar power, and yet was cold and cheerless. On gazing at +that combined light, he felt the same sense of disintegration that the +afterglow of Alppain had always caused in him; but now the feeling was +not physical, but merely aesthetic. The moon did not appear romantic to +him, but disturbing and mystical. + +Earthrid rose, and stood quietly for a minute. In the bright moonlight, +his face seemed to have undergone a change. It lost its loose, weak, +disagreeable look, and acquired a sort of crafty grandeur. He clapped +his hands together meditatively two or three times, and walked up and +down. The others stood together, watching him. + +Then he sat down by the side of the lake, and, leaning on his side, +placed his right hand, open palm downward, on the ground, at the same +time stretching out his right leg, so that the foot was in contact with +the water. + +While Maskull was in the act of staring at him and at the lake, he felt +a stabbing sensation right through his heart, as though he had been +pierced by a rapier. He barely recovered himself from falling, and as he +did so he saw that a spout had formed on the water, and was now +subsiding again. The next moment he was knocked down by a violent blow +in the mouth, delivered by an invisible hand. He picked himself up; and +observed that a second spout had formed. No sooner was he on his legs, +than a hideous pain hammered away inside his brain, as if caused by a +malignant tumour. In his agony, he stumbled and fell again; this time on +the arm Krag had wounded. All his other mishaps were forgotten in this +one, which half stunned him. It lasted only a moment, and then sudden +relief came, and he found that Earthrid’s rough music had lost its power +over him. + +He saw him still stretched in the same position. Spouts were coming +thick and fast on the lake, which was full of lively motion. But +Gleameil was not on her legs. She was lying on the ground, in a heap, +without moving. Her attitude was ugly, and he guessed she was dead. When +he reached her, he discovered that she was dead. In what state of mind +she had died, he did not know, for her face wore the vulgar Crystalman +grin. The whole tragedy had not lasted five minutes. + +He went over to Earthrid and dragged him forcibly away from his playing. + +“You have been as good as your word, musician,” he said. “Gleameil is +dead.” + +Earthrid tried to collect his scattered senses. + +“I warned her,” he replied, sitting up. “Did I not beg her to go away? +But she died very easily. She did not wait for the beauty she spoke +about. She heard nothing of the passion, nor even of the rhythm. Neither +have you.” + +Maskull looked down at him in indignation, but said nothing. + +“You should not have interrupted me,” went on Earthrid. “When I am +playing, nothing else is of importance. I might have lost the thread of +my ideas. Fortunately, I never forget. I shall start over again.” + +“If music is to continue, in the presence of the dead, I play next.” + +The man glanced up quickly. + +“That can’t be.” + +“It must be,” said Maskull decisively. “I prefer playing to listening. +Another reason is that you will have every night, but I have only +tonight.” + +Earthrid clenched and unclenched his fist, and began to turn pale. “With +your recklessness, you are likely to kill us both. Irontick belongs to +me, and until you have learned how to play, you would only break the +instrument.” + +“Well, then, I will break it; but I am going to try.” + +The musician jumped to his feet and confronted him. “Do you intend to +take it from me by violence?” + +“Keep calm! You will have the same choice that you offered us. I shall +give you time to go away somewhere.” + +“How will that serve me, if you spoil my lake? You don’t understand what +you are doing.” + +“Go, or stay!” responded Maskull. “I give you till the water gets smooth +again. After that, I begin playing.” + +Earthrid kept swallowing. He glanced at the lake and back to Maskull. + +“Do you swear it?” + +“How long that will take, you know better than I; but till then you are +safe.” + +Earthrid cast him a look of malice, hesitated for an instant, and then +moved away, and started to climb the nearest hill. Halfway up he glanced +over his shoulder apprehensively, as if to see what was happening. In +another minute or so, he had disappeared over the crest, travelling in +the direction of the shore that faced Matterplay. + +Later, when the water was once more tranquil, Maskull sat down by its +edge, in imitation of Earthrid’s attitude. He knew neither how to set +about producing his music, nor what would come of it. But audacious +projects entered his brain and he willed to create physical shapes—and, +above all, one shape, that of Surtur. + +Before putting his foot to the water, he turned things over a little in +his mind. + +He said, “What themes are in common music, shapes are in this music. The +composer does not find his theme by picking out single notes; but the +whole theme flashes into his mind by inspiration. So it must be with +shapes. When I start playing, if I am worth anything, the undivided +ideas will pass from my unconscious mind to this lake, and then, +reflected back in the dimensions of reality, I shall be for the first +time made acquainted with them. So it must be.” + +The instant his foot touched the water, he felt his thoughts flowing +from him. He did not know what they were, but the mere act of flowing +created a sensation of joyful mastery. With this was curiosity to learn +what they would prove to be. Spouts formed on the lake in increasing +numbers, but he experienced no pain. His thoughts, which he knew to be +music, did not issue from him in a steady, unbroken stream, but in +great, rough gushes, succeeding intervals of quiescence. When these +gushes came, the whole lake broke out in an eruption of spouts. + +He realised that the ideas passing from him did not arise in his +intellect, but had their source in the fathomless depths of his will. He +could not decide what character they should have, but he was able to +force them out, or retard them, by the exercise of his volition. + +At first nothing changed around him. Then the moon grew dimmer, and a +strange, new radiance began to illuminate the landscape. It increased so +imperceptibly that it was some time before he recognised it as the +Muspel-light which he had seen in the Wombflash Forest. He could not +give it a colour, or a name, but it filled him with a sort of stern and +sacred awe. He called up the resources of his powerful will. The spouts +thickened like a forest, and many of them were twenty feet high. +Teargeld looked faint and pale; the radiance became intense; but it cast +no shadows. The wind got up, but where Maskull was sitting, it was calm. +Shortly afterward it began to shriek and whistle, like a full gale. He +saw no shapes, and redoubled his efforts. + +His ideas were now rushing out onto the lake so furiously that his whole +soul was possessed by exhilaration and defiance. But still he did not +know their nature. A huge spout shot up and at the same moment the hills +began to crack and break. Great masses of loose soil were erupted from +their bowels, and in the next period of quietness, he saw that the +landscape had altered. Still the mysterious light intensified. The moon +disappeared entirely. The noise of the unseen tempest was terrifying, +but Maskull played heroically on, trying to urge out ideas which would +take shape. The hillsides were cleft with chasms. The water escaping +from the tops of the spouts, swamped the land; but where he was, it was +dry. + +The radiance grew terrible. It was everywhere, but Maskull fancied that +it was far brighter in one particular quarter. He thought that it was +becoming localised, preparatory to contracting into a solid form. He +strained and strained.... + +Immediately afterward the bottom of the lake subsided. Its waters fell +through, and his instrument was broken. + +The Muspel-light vanished. The moon shone out again, but Maskull could +not see it. After that unearthly shining, he seemed to himself to be in +total blackness. The screaming wind ceased; there was a dead silence. +His thoughts finished flowing toward the lake, and his foot no longer +touched water, but hung in space. + +He was too stunned by the suddenness of the change to either think or +feel. While he was still lying dazed, a vast explosion occurred in the +newly opened depths beneath the lakebed. The water in its descent had +met fire. Maskull was lifted bodily in the air, many yards high, and +came down heavily. He lost consciousness.... + +When he came to his senses again, he saw everything. Teargeld was +gleaming brilliantly. He was lying by the side of the old lake, but it +was now a crater, to the bottom of which his eyes could not penetrate. +The hills encircling it were torn, as if by heavy gunfire. A few +thunderclouds were floating in the air at no great height, from which +branched lightning descended to the earth incessantly, accompanied by +alarming and singular crashes. + +He got on his legs, and tested his actions. Finding that he was +uninjured, he first of all viewed the crater at closer quarters, and +then started to walk painfully toward the northern shore. + +When he had attained the crest above the lake, the landscape sloped +gently down for two miles to the sea. Everywhere he passed through +traces of his rough work. The country was carved into scarps, grooves, +channels, and craters. He arrived at the line of low cliffs overlooking +the beach, and found that these also were partly broken down by +landslips. He got down onto the sand and stood looking over the moonlit, +agitated sea, wondering how he could contrive to escape from this island +of failure. + +Then he saw Earthrid’s body, lying quite close to him. It was on its +back. Both legs had been violently torn off and he could not see them +anywhere. Earthrid’s teeth were buried in the flesh of his right +forearm, indicating that the man had died in unreasoning physical agony. +The skin gleamed green in the moonlight, but it was stained by darker +discolourations, which were wounds. The sand about him was dyed by the +pool of blood which had long since filtered through. + +Maskull left the corpse in dismay, and walked a long way along the +sweet-smelling shore. Sitting down on a rock, he waited for daybreak. + + + +Chapter 16. LEEHALLFAE + +At midnight, when Teargeld was in the south, throwing his shadow +straight toward the sea and making everything nearly as bright as day, +he saw a great tree floating in the water, not far out. It was thirty +feet out of the water, upright, and alive, and its roots must have been +enormously deep and wide. It was drifting along the coast, through the +heavy seas. Maskull eyed it incuriously for a few minutes. Then it +dawned on him that it might be a good thing to investigate its nature. +Without stopping to weigh the danger, he immediately swam out, caught +hold of the lowest branch, and swung himself up. + +He looked aloft and saw that the main stem was thick to the very top, +terminating in a knob that somewhat resembled a human head. He made his +way toward this knob, through the multitude of boughs, which were +covered with tough, slippery, marine leaves, like seaweed. Arriving at +the crown, he found that it actually was a sort of head, for there were +membranes like rudimentary eyes all the way around it, denoting some +form of low intelligence. + +At that moment the tree touched bottom, though some way from the shore, +and began to bump heavily. To steady himself, Maskull put his hand out, +and, in doing so, accidentally covered some of the membranes. The tree +sheered off the land, as if by an act of will. When it was steady again, +Maskull removed his hand; they at once drifted back to shore. He thought +a bit, and then started experimenting with the eyelike membranes. It was +as he had guessed—these eyes were stimulated by the light of the moon, +and whichever way the light came from, the tree would travel. + +A rather defiant smile crossed Maskull’s face as it struck him that it +might be possible to navigate this huge plant-animal as far as +Matterplay. He lost no time in putting the conception into execution. +Tearing off some of the long, tough leaves, he bound up all the +membranes except the ones that faced the north. The tree instantly left +the island, and definitely put out to sea. It travelled due north. It +was not moving at more than a mile an hour, however, while Matterplay +was possibly forty miles distant. + +The great spout waves fell against the trunk with mighty thuds; the +breaking seas hissed through the lower branches—Maskull rested high and +dry, but was more than a little apprehensive about their slow rate of +progress. Presently he sighted a current racing along toward the north- +west, and that put another idea into his head. He began to juggle with +the membranes again, and before long had succeeded in piloting his tree +into the fast-running stream. As soon as they were fairly in its rapids, +he blinded the crown entirely, and thenceforward the current acted in +the double capacity of road and steed. + +Maskull made himself secure among the branches and slept for the +remainder of the night. + +When his eyes opened again, the island was out of sight. Teargeld was +setting in the western sea. The sky in the east was bright with the +colours of the approaching day. The air was cool and fresh; the light +over the sea was beautiful, gleaming, and mysterious. Land—probably +Matterplay—lay ahead, a long, dark line of low cliffs, perhaps a mile +away. The current no longer ran toward the shore, but began to skirt the +coast without drawing any closer to it. As soon as Maskull realised the +fact, he manoeuvred the tree out of its channel and started drifting it +inshore. The eastern sky blazed up suddenly with violent dyes, and the +outer rim of Branchspell lifted itself above the sea. The moon had +already sunk. + +The shore loomed nearer and nearer. In physical character it was like +Swaylone’s Island—the same wide sands, small cliffs, and rounded, +insignificant hills inland, without vegetation. In the early-morning +sunlight, however, it looked romantic. Maskull, hollow-eyed and morose, +cared nothing for all that, but the moment the tree grounded, clambered +swiftly down through the branches and dropped into the sea. By the time +he had swam ashore, the white, stupendous sun was high above the +horizon. + +He walked along the sands toward the east for a considerable distance, +without having any special intention in his mind. He thought he would go +on until he came to some creek or valley, and then turn up it. The sun’s +rays were cheering, and began to relieve him of his oppressive night +weight. After strolling along the beach for about a mile, he was stopped +by a broad stream that flowed into the sea out of a kind of natural +gateway in the line of cliffs. Its water was of a beautiful, limpid +green, all filled with bubbles. So ice-cold, aerated, and enticing did +it look that he flung himself face downward on the ground and took a +prolonged draught. When he got up again his eyes started to play +pranks—they became alternately blurred and clear.... It may have been +pure imagination, but he fancied that Digrung was moving inside him. + +He followed the bank of the stream through the gap in the cliffs, and +then for the first time saw the real Matterplay. A valley appeared, like +a jewel enveloped by naked rock. All the hill country was bare and +lifeless, but this valley lying in the heart of it was extremely +fertile; he had never seen such fertility. It wound up among the hills, +and all that he was looking at was its broad lower end. The floor of the +valley was about half a mile wide; the stream that ran down its middle +was nearly a hundred feet across, but was exceedingly shallow—in most +places not more than a few inches deep. The sides of the valley were +about seventy feet high, but very sloping; they were clothed from top to +bottom with little, bright-leaved trees—not of varied tints of one +colour, like Earth trees, but of widely diverse colours, most of which +were brilliant and positive. + +The floor itself was like a magician’s garden. Densely interwoven trees, +shrubs, and parasitical climbers fought everywhere for possession of it. +The forms were strange and grotesque, and each one seemed different; the +colours of leaf, flower, sexual organs, and stem were equally +peculiar—all the different combinations of the five primary colours of +Tormance seemed to be represented, and the result, for Maskull was a +sort of eye chaos. So rank was the vegetation that he could not fight +his way through it; he was obliged to take to the riverbed. The contact +of the water created an odd tingling sensation throughout his body, like +a mild electric shock. There were no birds, but a few extraordinary- +looking winged reptiles of small size kept crossing the valley from hill +to hill. Swarms of flying insects clustered around him, threatening +mischief, but in the end it turned out that his blood was disagreeable +to them, for he was not bitten once. Repulsive crawling creatures +resembling centipedes, scorpions, snakes, and so forth were in myriads +on the banks of the stream, but they also made no attempt to use their +weapons on his bare legs and feet, as he passed through them into the +water.... Presently however, he was confronted in midstream by a hideous +monster, of the size of a pony, but resembling in shape—if it resembled +anything—a sea crustacean; and then he came to a halt. They stared at +one another, the beast with wicked eyes, Maskull with cool and wary +ones. While he was staring, a singular thing happened to him. + +His eyes blurred again. But when in a minute or two this blurring passed +away and he saw clearly once more, his vision had changed in character. +He was looking right through the animal’s body and could distinguish all +its interior parts. The outer crust, however, and all the hard tissues +were misty and semi-transparent; through them a luminous network of +blood-red veins and arteries stood out in startling distinctness. The +hard parts faded away to nothingness, and the blood system alone was +left. Not even the fleshy ducts remained. The naked blood alone was +visible, flowing this way and that like a fiery, liquid skeleton, in the +shape of the monster. Then this blood began to change too. Instead of a +continuous liquid stream, Maskull perceived that it was composed of a +million individual points. The red colour had been an illusion caused by +the rapid motion of the points; he now saw clearly that they resembled +minute suns in their scintillating brightness. They seemed like a double +drift of stars, streaming through space. One drift was travelling toward +a fixed point in the centre, while the other was moving away from it. He +recognised the former as the veins of the beast, the latter as the +arteries, and the fixed point as the heart. + +While he was still looking, lost in amazement, the starry network went +out suddenly like an extinguished flame. Where the crustacean had stood, +there was nothing. Yet through this “nothing” he could not see the +landscape. Something was standing there that intercepted the light, +though it possessed neither shape, colour, nor substance. And now the +object, which could no longer be perceived by vision, began to be felt +by emotion. A delightful, springlike sense of rising sap, of quickening +pulses of love, adventure, mystery, beauty, femininity—took possession +of his being, and, strangely enough, he identified it with the monster. +Why that invisible brute should cause him to feel young, sexual, and +audacious, he did not ask himself, for he was fully occupied with the +effect. But it was as if flesh, bones, and blood had been discarded, and +he were face to face with naked Life itself, which slowly passed into +his own body. + +The sensations died away. There was a brief interval, and then the +streaming, starlike skeleton rose up again out of space. It changed to +the red-blood system. The hard parts of the body reappeared, with more +and more distinctness, and at the same time the network of blood grew +fainter. Presently the interior parts were entirely concealed by the +crust—the creature stood opposite Maskull in its old formidable +ugliness, hard, painted, and concrete. + +Disliking something about him, the crustacean turned aside and stumbled +awkwardly away on its six legs, with laborious and repulsive movements, +toward the other bank of the stream. + +Maskull’s apathy left him after this adventure. He became uneasy and +thoughtful. He imagined that he was beginning to see things through +Digrung’s eyes, and that there were strange troubles immediately ahead. +The next time his eyes started to blur, he fought it down with his will, +and nothing happened. + +The valley ascended with many windings toward the hills. It narrowed +considerably, and the wooded slopes on either side grew steeper and +higher. The stream shrunk to about twenty feet across, but it was +deeper—it was alive with motion, music, and bubbles. The electric +sensations caused by its water became more pronounced, almost +disagreeably so; but there was nowhere else to walk. With its deafening +confusion of sounds from the multitude of living creatures, the little +valley resembled a vast conversation hall of Nature. The life was still +more prolific than before; every square foot of space was a tangle of +struggling wills, both animal and vegetable. For a naturalist it would +have been paradise, for no two shapes were alike, and all were +fantastic, with individual character. + +It looked as if life forms were being coined so fast by Nature that +there was not physical room for all. Nevertheless it was not as on +Earth, where a hundred seeds are scattered in order that one may be +sown. Here the young forms seemed to survive, while, to find +accommodation for them, the old ones perished; everywhere he looked they +were withering and dying, without any ostensible cause—they were simply +being killed by new life. + +Other creatures sported so wildly, in front of his very eyes, that they +became of different “kingdoms” altogether. For example, a fruit was +lying on the ground, of the size and shape of a lemon, but with a +tougher skin. He picked it up, intending to eat the contained pulp; but +inside it was a fully formed young tree, just on the point of bursting +its shell. Maskull threw it away upstream. It floated back toward him; +by the time he was even with it, its downward motion had stopped and it +was swimming against the current. He fished it out and discovered that +it had sprouted six rudimentary legs. + +Maskull sang no paeans of praise in honour of the gloriously overcrowded +valley. On the contrary, he felt deeply cynical and depressed. He +thought that the unseen power—whether it was called Nature, Life, Will, +or God—that was so frantic to rush forward and occupy this small, +vulgar, contemptible world, could not possess very high aims and was not +worth much. How this sordid struggle for an hour or two of physical +existence could ever be regarded as a deeply earnest and important +business was beyond his comprehension The atmosphere choked him, he +longed for air and space. Thrusting his way through to the side of the +ravine, he began to climb the overhanging cliff, swinging his way up +from tree to tree. + +When he arrived at the top, Branchspell beat down on him with such +brutal, white intensity that he saw that there was no staying there. He +looked around, to ascertain what part of the country he had come to. He +had travelled about ten miles from the sea, as the crow flies. The bare, +undulating wolds sloped straight down toward it; the water glittered in +the distance; and on the horizon he was just able to make out Swaylone’s +Island. Looking north, the land continued sloping upward as far as he +could see. Over the crest—that is to say, some miles away—a line of +black, fantastic-shaped rocks of quite another character showed +themselves; this was probably Threal. Behind these again, against the +sky, perhaps fifty or even a hundred miles off, were the peaks of +Lichstorm, most of them covered with greenish snow that glittered in the +sunlight. + +They were stupendously high and of weird contours. Most of them were +conical to the top, but from the top, great masses of mountain balanced +themselves at what looked like impossible angles—overhanging without +apparent support. A land like that promised something new, he thought: +extraordinary inhabitants. The idea took shape in his mind to go there, +and to travel as swiftly as possible, it might even be feasible to get +there before sunset. It was less the mountains themselves that attracted +him than the country which lay beyond—the prospect of setting eyes on +the blue sun, which he judged to be the wonder of wonders in Tormance. + +The direct route was over the hills, but that was out of the question, +because of the killing heat and the absence of shade. He guessed, +however, that the valley would not take him far out of his way, and +decided to keep to that for the time being, much as he hated and feared +it. Into the hotbed of life, therefore, he once more swung himself. + +Once down, he continued to follow the windings of the valley for several +miles through sunlight and shadow. The path became increasingly +difficult. The cliffs closed in on either side until they were less than +a hundred yards apart, while the bed of the ravine was blocked by +boulders, great and small, so that the little stream, which was now +diminished to the proportions of a brook, had to come down where and how +it could. The forms of life grew stranger. Pure plants and pure animals +disappeared by degrees, and their place was filled by singular creatures +that seemed to partake of both characters. They had limbs, faces, will, +and intelligence, but they remained for the greater part of their time +rooted in the ground by preference, and they fed only on soil and air. +Maskull saw no sexual organs and failed to understand how the young came +into existence. + +Then he witnessed an astonishing sight. A large and fully developed +plant-animal appeared suddenly in front of him, out of empty space. He +could not believe his eyes, but stared at the creature for a long time +in amazement. It went on calmly moving and burrowing before him, as +thought it had been there all its life. Giving up the puzzle, Maskull +resumed his striding from rock to rock up the gorge, and then, quietly +and without warning, the same phenomenon occurred again. No longer could +he doubt that he was seeing miracles—that Nature was precipitating its +shapes into the world without making use of the medium of parentage.... +No solution of the problem presented itself. + +The brook too had altered in character. A trembling radiance came up +from its green water, like some imprisoned force escaping into the air. +He had not walked in it for some time; now he did so, to test its +quality. He felt new life entering his body, from his feet upward; it +resembled a slowly moving cordial, rather than mere heat. The sensation +was quite new in his experience, yet he knew by instinct what it was. +The energy emitted by the brook was ascending his body neither as friend +nor foe but simply because it happened to be the direct road to its +objective elsewhere. But, although it had no hostile intentions, it was +likely to prove a rough traveller—he was clearly conscious that its +passage through his body threatened to bring about some physical +transformation, unless he could do something to prevent it. Leaping +quickly out of the water, he leaned against a rock, tightened his +muscles, and braced himself against the impending change. At that very +moment the blurring again attacked his sight, and, while he was guarding +against that, his forehead sprouted out into a galaxy of new eyes. He +put his hand up and counted six, in addition to his old ones. + +The danger was past and Maskull laughed, congratulating himself on +having got off so easily. Then he wondered what the new organs were +for—whether they were a good or a bad thing. He had not taken a dozen +steps up the ravine before he found out. Just as he was in the act of +jumping down from the top of a boulder, his vision altered and he came +to an automatic standstill. He was perceiving two worlds simultaneously. +With his own eyes he saw the gorge as before, with its rocks, brook, +plant-animals, sunshine, and shadows. But with his acquired eyes he saw +differently. All the details of the valley were visible, but the light +seemed turned down, and everything appeared faint, hard, and uncoloured. +The sun was obscured by masses of cloud which filled the whole sky. This +vapour was in violent and almost living motion. It was thick in +extension, but thin in texture; some parts, however, were far denser +than others, as the particles were crushed together or swept apart by +the motion. The green sparks from the brook, when closely watched, could +be distinguished individually, each one wavering up toward the clouds, +but the moment they got within them a fearful struggle seemed to begin. +The spark endeavoured to escape through to the upper air, while the +clouds concentrated around it whichever way it darted, trying to create +so dense a prison that further movement would be impossible. As far as +Maskull could detect, most of the sparks succeeded eventually in finding +their way out after frantic efforts; but one that he was looking at was +caught, and what happened was this. A complete ring of cloud surrounded +it, and, in spite of its furious leaps and flashes in all directions—as +if it were a live, savage creature caught in a net—nowhere could it find +an opening, but it dragged the enveloping cloud stuff with it, wherever +it went. The vapours continued to thicken around it, until they +resembled the black, heavy, compressed sky masses seen before a bad +thunderstorm. Then the green spark, which was still visible in the +interior, ceased its efforts, and remained for a time quite quiescent. +The cloud shape went on consolidating itself, and became nearly +spherical; as it grew heavier and stiller, it started slowly to descend +toward the valley floor. When it was directly opposite Maskull, with its +lower end only a few feet off the ground, its motion stopped altogether +and there was a complete pause for at least two minutes. Suddenly, like +a stab of forked lightning, the great cloud shot together, became small, +indented, and coloured, and as a plant-animal started walking around on +legs and rooting up the ground in search of food. The concluding stage +of the phenomenon he witnessed with his normal eyesight. It showed him +the creature’s appearing miraculously out of nowhere. + +Maskull was shaken. His cynicism dropped from him and gave place to +curiosity and awe. “That was exactly like the birth of a thought,” he +said to himself, “but who was the thinker? Some great Living Mind is at +work in this spot. He has intelligence, for all his shapes are +different, and he has character, for all belong to the same general +type.... If I’m not wrong, and if it’s the force called Shaping or +Crystalman, I’ve seen enough to make me want to find out something more +about him.... It would be ridiculous to go on to other riddles before I +have solved these.” + +A voice called out to him from behind, and, turning around, he saw a +human figure hastening toward him from some distance down the ravine. It +looked more like a man than a woman. He was rather tall, but nimble, and +was clothed in a dark, frocklike garment that reached from the neck to +below the knees. Around his head was rolled a turban. Maskull waited for +him, and when he was nearer went a little way to meet him. + +Then he experienced another surprise, for this person, although clearly +a human being, was neither man nor woman, nor anything between the two, +but was unmistakably of a third positive sex, which was remarkable to +behold and difficult to understand. In order to translate into words the +sexual impression produced in Maskull’s mind by the stranger’s physical +aspect, it is necessary to coin a new pronoun, for none in earthly use +would be applicable. Instead of “he,” “she,” or “it,” therefore “ae” +will be used. + +He found himself incapable of grasping at first why the bodily +peculiarities of this being should strike him as springing from sex, and +not from race, and yet there was no doubt about the fact itself. Body, +face, and eyes were absolutely neither male nor female, but something +quite different. Just as one can distinguish a man from a woman at the +first glance by some indefinable difference of expression and +atmospheres altogether apart from the contour of the figure, so the +stranger was separated in appearance from both. As with men and women, +the whole person expressed a latent sensuality, which gave body and face +alike their peculiar character.... Maskull decided that it was love—but +what love—love for whom? It was neither the shame-carrying passion of a +male, nor the deep-rooted instinct of a female to obey her destiny. It +was as real and irresistible as these, but quite different. + +As he continued staring into those strange, archaic eyes, he had an +intuitive feeling that aer lover was no other than Shaping himself. It +came to him that the design of this love was not the continuance of the +race but the immortality on earth of the individual. No children were +produced by the act; the lover aerself was the eternal child. Further, +ae sought like a man, but received like a woman. All these things were +dimly and confusedly expressed by this extraordinary being, who seemed +to have dropped out of another age, when creation was different. + +Of all the weird personalities Maskull had so far met in Tormance, this +one struck him as infinitely the most foreign—that is, the farthest +removed from him in spiritual structure. If they were to live together +for a hundred years, they could never be companions. + +Maskull pulled himself out of his trancelike meditations and, viewing +the newcomer in greater detail, tried with his understanding to account +for the marvellous things told him by his intuitions. Ae possessed broad +shoulders and big bones, and was without female breasts, and so far ae +resembled a man. But the bones were so flat and angular that aer flesh +presented something of the character of a crystal, having plane surfaces +in place of curves. The body looked as if it had not been ground down by +the sea of ages into smooth and rounded regularity but had sprung +together in angles and facets as the result of a single, sudden idea. +The face too was broken and irregular. With his racial prejudices, +Maskull found little beauty in it, yet beauty there was, though neither +of a masculine nor of a feminine type, for it had the three essentials +of beauty: character, intelligence, and repose. The skin was copper- +coloured and strangely luminous, as if lighted from within. The face was +beardless, but the hair of the head was as long as a woman’s, and, +dressed in a single plait, fell down behind as far as the ankles. Ae +possessed only two eyes. That part of the turban which went across the +forehead protruded so far in front that it evidently concealed some +organ. + +Maskull found it impossible to compute aer age. The frame appeared +active, vigorous, and healthy, the skin was clear and glowing; the eyes +were powerful and alert—ae might well be in early youth. Nevertheless, +the longer Maskull gazed, the more an impression of unbelievable +ancientness came upon him—aer real youth seemed as far away as the view +observed through a reversed telescope. + +At last he addressed the stranger, though it was just as if he were +conversing with a dream. “To what sex do you belong?” he asked. + +The voice in which the reply came was neither manly nor womanly, but was +oddly suggestive of a mystical forest horn, heard from a great distance. + +“Nowadays there are men and women, but in the olden times the world was +peopled by ‘phaens.’ I think I am the only survivor of all those beings +who were then passing through Faceny’s mind.” + +“Faceny?” + +“Who is now miscalled Shaping or Crystalman. The superficial names +invented by a race of superficial creatures.” + +“What’s your own name?” + +“Leehallfae.” + +“What?” + +“Leehallfae. And yours is Maskull. I read in your mind that you have +just come through some wonderful adventures. You seem to possess +extraordinary luck. If it lasts long enough, perhaps I can make use of +it.” + +“Do you think that my luck exists for your benefit?... But never mind +that now. It is your _sex_ that interests me. How do you satisfy your +desires?” + +Leehallfae pointed to the concealed organ on her brow. “With that I +gather life from the streams that flow in all the hundred Matterplay +valleys. The streams spring direct from Faceny. My whole life has been +spent trying to find Faceny himself. I’ve hunted so long that if I were +to state the number of years you would believe I lied.” + +Maskull looked at the phaen slowly. “In Ifdawn I met someone else from +Matterplay—a young man called Digrung. I absorbed him.” + +“You can’t be telling me this out of vanity.” + +“It was a fearful crime. What will come of it?” + +Leehallfae gave a curious, wrinkled smile. “In Matterplay he will stir +inside you, for he smells the air. Already you have his eyes.... I knew +him.... Take care of yourself, or something more startling may happen. +Keep out of the water.” + +“This seems to me a terrible valley, in which anything may happen.” + +“Don’t torment yourself about Digrung. The valleys belong by right to +the phaens—the men here are interlopers. It is a good work to remove +them.” + +Maskull continued thoughtful. “I say no more, but I see I will have to +be cautious. What did you mean about my helping you with my luck?” + +“Your luck is fast weakening, but it may still be strong enough to serve +me. Together we will search for Threal.” + +“Search for Threal—why, is it so hard to find?” + +“I have told you that my whole life has been spent in the quest.” + +“You said Faceny, Leehallfae.” + +The phaen gazed at him with queer, ancient eyes, and smiled again. “This +stream, Maskull, like every other life stream in Matterplay, has its +source in Faceny. But as all these streams issue out from Threal, it is +in Threal that we must look for Faceny.” + +“But what’s to prevent your finding Threal? Surely it’s a well-known +country?” + +“It lies underground. Its communications with the upper world are few, +and where they are, no one that I have ever spoken to knows. I have +scoured the valleys and the hills. I have been to the very gates of +Lichstorm. I am old, so that your aged men would appear newborn infants +beside me, but I am as far from Threal as when I was a green youth, +dwelling among a throng of fellow phaens.” + +“Then, if my luck is good, yours is very bad.... But when you have found +Faceny, what do you gain?” + +Leehallfae looked at him in silence. The smile faded from aer face, and +its place was taken by such a look of unearthly pain and sorrow that +Maskull had no need to press his question. Ae was consumed by the grief +and yearning of a lover eternally separated from the loved one, the +scents and traces of whose person were always present. This passion +stamped aer features at that moment with a wild, stern, spiritual +beauty, far transcending any beauty of woman or man. + +But the expression vanished suddenly, and then the abrupt contrast +showed Maskull the real Leehallfae. Aer sensuality was solitary, but +vulgar—it was like the heroism of a lonely nature, pursuing animal aims +with untiring persistence. + +He looked at the phaen askance, and drummed his fingers against his +thigh. “Well, we will go together. We may find something, and in any +case I shan’t be sorry to converse with such a singular individual as +yourself.” + +“But I should warn you, Maskull. You and I are of different creations. A +phaen’s body contains the whole of life, a man’s body contains only the +half of life—the other half is in woman. Faceny may be too strong a +draught for your body to endure.... Do you not feel this?” + +“I am dull with my different feelings. I must take what precautions I +can, and chance the rest.” He bent down, and, taking hold of the phaen’s +thin and ragged robe, tore off a broad strip, which he proceeded to +swathe in folds around his forehead. “I’m not forgetting your advice, +Leehallfae. I would not like to start the walk as Maskull and finish it +as Digrung.” + +The phaen gave a twisted grin, and they began to move upstream. The road +was difficult. They had to stride from boulder to boulder, and found it +warm work. Occasionally a worse obstacle presented itself, which they +could surmount only by climbing. There was no more conversation for a +long time. Maskull, as far as possible, adopted his companion’s counsel +to avoid the water, but here and there he was forced to set foot in it. +The second or third time he did so, he felt a sudden agony in his arm, +where it had been wounded by Krag. His eyes grew joyful; his fears +vanished; and he began deliberately to tread the stream. + +Leehallfae stroked aer chin and watched him with screwed-up eyes, trying +to comprehend what had happened. “Is your luck speaking to you, Maskull, +or what is the matter?” + +“Listen. You are a being of antique experience, and ought to know, if +anyone does. What is Muspel?” + +The phaen’s face was blank. “I don’t know the name.” + +“It is another world of some sort.” + +“That cannot be. There is only this one world—Faceny’s.” + +Maskull came up to aer, linked arms, and began to talk. “I’m glad I fell +in with you, Leehallfae, for this valley and everything connected with +it need a lot of explaining. For example, in this spot there are hardly +any organic forms left—why have they all disappeared? You call this +brook a ‘life stream,’ yet the nearer its source we get, the less life +it produces. A mile or two lower down we had those spontaneous plant- +animals appearing out of nowhere, while right down by the sea, plants +and animals were tumbling over one another. Now, if all this is +connected in some mysterious way or other with your Faceny, it seems to +me he must have a most paradoxical nature. His essence doesn’t start +creating shapes until it has become thoroughly weakened and watered.... +But perhaps both of us are talking nonsense.” + +Leehallfae shook aer head. “Everything hangs together. The stream is +life, and it is throwing off sparks of life all the time. When these +sparks are caught and imprisoned by matter, they become living shapes. +The nearer the stream is to its source, the more terrible and vigorous +is its life. You’ll see for yourself when we reach the head of the +valley that there are no living shapes there at all. That means that +there is no kind of matter tough enough to capture and hold the terrible +sparks that are to be found there. Lower down the stream, most of the +sparks are vigorous enough to escape to the upper air, but some are held +when they are a little way up, and these burst suddenly into shapes. I +myself am of this nature. Lower down still, toward the sea, the stream +has lost a great part of its vital power and the sparks are lazy and +sluggish. They spread out, rather than rise into the air. There is +hardly any kind of matter, however delicate, that is incapable of +capturing these feeble sparks, and they are captured in multitudes—that +accounts for the innumerable living shapes you see there. But not only +that—the sparks are passed from one body to another by way of +generation, and can never hope to cease being so until they are worn out +by decay. Lowest of all, you have the Sinking Sea itself. There the +degenerate and enfeebled life of the Matterplay streams has for its body +the whole sea. So weak is it’s power that it can’t succeed in creating +any shapes at all but you can see its ceaseless, futile attempts to do +so, in those spouts.” + +“So the slow development of men and women is due to the feebleness of +the life germ in their case?” + +“Exactly. It can’t attain all its desires at once. And now you can see +how immeasurably superior are the phaens, who spring spontaneously from +the more electric and vigorous sparks.” + +“But where does the matter come from that imprisons these sparks?” + +“When life dies, it becomes matter. Matter itself dies, but its place is +constantly taken by new matter.” + +“But if life comes from Faceny, how can it die at all?” + +“Life is the thoughts of Faceny, and once these thoughts have left his +brain they are nothing—mere dying embers.” + +“This is a cheerless philosophy,” said Maskull. “But who is Faceny +himself, then, and why does he think at all?” + +Leehallfae gave another wrinkled smile. “That I’ll explain too. Faceny +is of this nature. He faces Nothingness in all directions. He has no +back and no sides, but is all face; and this face is his shape. It must +necessarily be so, for nothing else can exist between him and +Nothingness. His face is all eyes, for he eternally contemplates +Nothingness. He draws his inspirations from it; in no other way could he +feel himself. For the same reason, phaens and even men love to be in +empty places and vast solitudes, for each one is a little Faceny.” + +“That rings true,” said Maskull. + +“Thoughts flow perpetually from Faceny’s face backward. Since his face +is on all sides, however, they flow into his interior. A draught of +thought thus continuously flows from Nothingness to the inside of +Faceny, which is the world. The thoughts become shapes, and people the +world. This outer world, therefore, which is lying all around us, is not +outside at all, as it happens, but inside. The visible universe is like +a gigantic stomach, and the real outside of the world we shall never +see.” + +Maskull pondered deeply for a while. + +“Leehallfae, I fail to see what you personally have to hope for, since +you are nothing more than a discarded, dying thought.” + +“Have you never loved a woman?” asked the phaen, regarding him fixedly. + +“Perhaps I have.” + +“When you loved, did you have no high moments?” + +“That’s asking the same question in other words.” + +“In those moments you were approaching Faceny. If you could have drawn +nearer still, would you not have done so?” + +“I would, regardless of the consequences.” + +“Even if you personally had nothing to hope for?” + +“But I would have that to hope for.” + +Leehallfae walked on in silence. + +“A man is the half of Life,” ae broke out suddenly. “A woman is the +other half of life, but a phaen is the whole of life. Moreover, when +life becomes split into halves, something else has dropped out of +it—something that belongs only to the whole. Between your love and mine +there is no comparison. If even your sluggish blood is drawn to Faceny, +without stopping to ask what will come of it, how do you suppose it is +with me?” + +“I don’t question the genuineness of your passion,” replied Maskull, +“but it’s a pity you can’t see your way to carry it forward into the +next world.” + +Leehallfae gave a distorted grin, expressing heaven knows what emotion. +“Men think what they like, but phaens are so made that they can see the +world only as it really is.” + +That ended the conversation. + +The sun was high in the sky, and they appeared to be approaching the +head of the ravine. Its walls had still further closed in and, except at +those moments when Branchspell was directly behind them, they strode +along all the time in deep shade; but still it was disagreeably hot and +relaxing. All life had ceased. A beautiful, fantastic spectacle was +presented by the cliff faces, the rocky ground, and the boulders that +choked the entire width of the gorge. They were of a snow-white +crystalline limestone, heavily scored by veins of bright, gleaming blue. +The rivulet was no longer green, but a clear, transparent crystal. Its +noise was musical, and altogether it looked most romantic and charming, +but Leehallfae seemed to find something else in it—aer features grew +more and more set and tortured. + +About half an hour after all the other life forms had vanished, another +plant-animal was precipitated out of space, in front of their eyes. It +was as tall as Maskull himself, and had a brilliant and vigorous +appearance, as befitted a creature just out of Nature’s mint. It started +to walk about; but hardly had it done so when it burst silently asunder. +Nothing remained of it—the whole body disappeared instantaneously into +the same invisible mist from which it had sprung. + +“That bears out what you said,” commented Maskull, turning rather pale. + +“Yes,” answered Leehallfae, “we have now come to the region of terrible +life.” + +“Then, since you’re right in this, I must believe all that you’ve been +telling me.” + +As he uttered the words, they were just turning a bend of the ravine. +There now loomed up straight ahead a perpendicular cliff about three +hundred feet in height, composed of white, marbled rock. It was the head +of the valley, and beyond it they could not proceed. + +“In return for my wisdom,” said the phaen, “you will now lend me your +luck.” + +They walked up to the base of the cliff, and Maskull looked at it +reflectively. It was possible to climb it, but the ascent would be +difficult. The now tiny brook issued from a hole in the rock only a few +feet up. Apart from its musical running, not a sound was to be heard. +The floor of the gorge was in shadow, but about halfway up the precipice +the sun was shining. + +“What do you want me to do?” demanded Maskull. + +“Everything is now in your hands, and I have no suggestions to make. +Now it’s your luck that must help us.” + +Maskull continued gazing up a little while longer. “We had better wait +till the afternoon, Leehallfae. I’ll probably have to climb to the top, +but it’s too hot at present—and besides, I’m tired. I’ll snatch a few +hours’ sleep. After that, we’ll see.” + +Leehallfae seemed annoyed, but raised no opposition. + + + +Chapter 17. CORPANG + +Maskull did not awaken till long after Blodsombre. Leehallfae was +standing by his side, looking down at him. It was doubtful whether ae +had slept at all. + +“What time is it?” Maskull asked, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. + +“The day is passing,” was the vague reply. + +Maskull got on to his feet, and gazed up at the cliff. “Now I’m going to +climb that. No need for both of us to risk our necks, so you wait here, +and if I find anything on top I’ll call you.” + +A phaen glanced at him strangely. “There’s nothing up there except a +bare hillside. I’ve been there often. Have you anything special in +mind?” + +“Heights often bring me inspiration. Sit down, and wait.” + +Refreshed by his sleep, Maskull immediately attacked the face of the +cliff, and took the first twenty feet at a single rush. Then it grew +precipitous, and the ascent demanded greater circumspection and +intelligence. There were few hand- or footholds: he had to reflect +before every step. On the other hand, it was sound rock, and he was no +novice at the sport. Branchspell glared full on the wall, so that it +half blinded him with its glittering whiteness. + +After many doubts and pauses he drew near the top. He was hot, sweating +copiously, and rather dizzy. To reach a ledge he caught hold of two +projecting rocks, one with each hand, at the same time scrambling +upward, his legs between the rocks. The left-hand rock, which was the +larger of the two, became dislodged by his weight, and, flying like a +huge, dark shadow past his head, crashed down with a terrifying sound to +the foot of the precipice, followed by an avalanche of smaller stones. +Maskull steadied himself as well as he could, but it was some moments +before he dared to look down behind him. + +At first he could not distinguish Leehallfae. Then he caught sight of +legs and hindquarters a few feet up the cliff from the bottom. He +perceived that the phaen had aer head in a cavity and was scrutinising +something, and waited for aer to reappear. + +Ae emerged, looked up to Maskull, and called out in aer hornlike voice, +“The entrance is here!” + +“I’m coming down!” roared Maskull. “Wait for me!” + +He descended swiftly—without taking too much care, for he thought he +recognised his “luck” in this discovery—and within twenty minutes was +standing beside the phaen. + +“What happened?” + +“The rock you dislodged struck this other rock just above the spring. It +tore it out of its bed. See—now there’s room for us to get in!” + +“Don’t get excited!” said Maskull. “It’s a remarkable accident, but we +have plenty of time. Let me look.” + +He peered into the hole, which was large enough to admit a big man +without stooping. Contrasted with the daylight outside it was dark, yet +a peculiar glow pervaded the place, and he could see well enough. A rock +tunnel went straight forward into the bowels of the hill, out of sight. +The valley brook did not flow along the floor of this tunnel, as he had +expected, but came up as a spring just inside the entrance. + +“Well Leehallfae, not much need to deliberate, eh? Still, observe that +your stream parts company with us here.” + +As he turned around for an answer he noticed that his companion was +trembling from head to foot. + +“Why, what’s the matter?” + +Leehallfae pressed a hand to aer heart. “The stream leaves us, but what +makes the stream what it is continues with us. Faceny is there.” + +“But surely you don’t expect to see him in person? Why are you shaking?” + +“Perhaps it will be too much for me after all.” + +“Why? How is it affecting you?” + +The phaen took him by the shoulder and held him at arm’s length, +endeavouring to study him with aer unsteady eyes. “Faceny’s thoughts are +obscure. I am his lover, you are a lover of women, yet he grants to you +what he denies to me.” + +“What does he grant to me?” + +“To see him, and go on living. I shall die. But it’s immaterial. +Tomorrow both of us will be dead.” + +Maskull impatiently shook himself free. “Your sensations may be reliable +in your own case, but how do you know I shall die?” + +“Life is flaming up inside you,” replied Leehallfae, shaking aer head. +“But after it has reached its climax—perhaps tonight—it will sink +rapidly and you’ll die tomorrow. As for me, if I enter Threal I shan’t +come out again. A smell of death is being wafted to me out of this +hole.” + +“You talk like a frightened man. I smell nothing.” + +“I am not frightened,” said Leehallfae quietly—ae had been gradually +recovering aer tranquillity—“but when one has lived as long as I have, +it is a serious matter to die. Every year one puts out new roots.” + +“Decide what you’re going to do,” said Maskull with a touch of contempt, +“for I’m going in at once.” + +The phaen gave an odd, meditative stare down the ravine, and after that +walked into the cavern without another word. Maskull, scratching his +head, followed close at aer heels. + +The moment they stepped across the bubbling spring, the atmosphere +altered. Without becoming stale or unpleasant, it grew cold, clear and +refined, and somehow suggested austere and tomblike thoughts. The +daylight disappeared at the first bend in the tunnel. After that, +Maskull could not say where the light came from. The air itself must +have been luminous, for though it was as light as full moon on Earth, +neither he nor Leehallfae cast a shadow. Another peculiarity of the +light was that both the walls of the tunnel and their own bodies +appeared colourless. Everything was black and white, like a lunar +landscape. This intensified the solemn, funereal feelings created by the +atmosphere. + +After they had proceeded for about ten minutes, the tunnel began to +widen out. The roof was high above their heads, and six men could have +walked side by side. Leehallfae was visibly weakening. Ae dragged +aerself along slowly and painfully, with sunken head. + +Maskull caught hold of aer. “You can’t go on like that. Better let me +take you back.” + +The phaen smiled, and staggered. “I’m dying.” + +“Don’t talk like that. It’s only a passing indisposition. Let me take +you back to the daylight.” + +“No, help me forward. I wish to see Faceny.” + +“The sick must have their way,” said Maskull. Lifting aer bodily in his +arms, he walked quickly along for another hundred yards or so. They then +emerged from the tunnel and faced a world the parallel of which he had +never set eyes upon before. + +“Set me down!” directed Leehallfae feebly. “Here I’ll die.” + +Maskull obeyed, and laid aer down at full length on the rocky ground. +The phaen raised aerself with difficulty on one arm, and stared with +fast-glazing eyes at the mystic landscape. + +Maskull looked too, and what he saw was a vast, undulating plain, +lighted as if by the moon—but there was of course no moon, and there +were no shadows. He made out running streams in the distance. Beside +them were trees of a peculiar kind; they were rooted in the ground, but +the branches also were aerial roots, and there were no leaves. No other +plants could be seen. The soil was soft, porous rock, resembling pumice. +Beyond a mile or two in any direction the light merged into obscurity. +At their back a great rocky wall extended on either hand; but it was not +square like a wall, but full of bays and promontories like an indented +line of sea cliffs. The roof of this huge underworld was out of sight. +Here and there a mighty shaft of naked rock, fantastically weathered, +towered aloft into the gloom, doubtless serving to support the roof. +There were no colours—every detail of the landscape was black, white, or +grey. The scene appeared so still, so solemn and religious, that all his +feelings quieted down to absolute tranquillity. + +Leehallfae fell back suddenly. Maskull dropped on his knees, and +helplessly watched the last flickerings of aer spirit, going out like a +candle in foul air. Death came.... He closed the eyes. The awful grin of +Crystalman immediately fastened upon the phaen’s dead features. + +While Maskull was still kneeling, he became conscious of someone +standing beside him. He looked up quickly and saw a man, but did not at +once rise. + +“Another phaen dead,” said the newcomer in a grave, toneless, and +intellectual voice. + +Maskull got up. + +The man was short and thickset but emaciated. His forehead was not +disfigured by any organs. He was middle-aged. The features were +energetic and rather coarse—yet it seemed to Maskull as though a pure, +hard life had done something toward refining them. His sanguine eyes +carried a twisted, puzzled look; some unanswerable problem was +apparently in the forefront of his brain. His face was hairless; the +hair of his head was short and manly; his brow was wide. He was clothed +in a black, sleeveless robe, and bore a long staff in his hand. There +was an air of cleanness and austerity about the whole man that was +attractive. + +He went on speaking dispassionately to Maskull, and, while doing so, +kept passing his hand reflectively over his cheeks and chin. “They all +find their way here to die. They come from Matterplay. There they live +to an incredible age. Partly on that account, and partly because of +their spontaneous origin, they regard themselves as the favoured +children of Faceny. But when they come here to find him, they die at +once.” + +“I think this one is the last of the race. But whom do I speak to?” + +“I am Corpang. Who are you, where do you come from, and what are you +doing here?” + +“My name is Maskull. My home is on the other side of the universe. As +for what I am doing here—I accompanied Leehallfae, that phaen, from +Matterplay.” + +“But a man doesn’t accompany a phaen out of friendship. What do you want +in Threal?” + +“Then this is Threal?” + +“Yes.” + +Maskull remained silent. + +Corpang studied his face with rough, curious eyes. “Are you ignorant, or +merely reticent, Maskull?” + +“I came here to ask questions, and not to answer them.” + +The stillness of the place was almost oppressive. Not a breeze stirred, +and not a sound came through the air. Their voices had been lowered, as +though they were in a cathedral. + +“Then do you want my society, or not?” asked Corpang. + +“Yes, if you can fit in with my mood, which is—not to talk about +myself.” + +“But you must at least tell me where you want to go to.” + +“I want to see what is to be seen here, and then go on to Lichstorm.” + +“I can guide you through, if that’s all you want. Come, let us start.” + +“First let’s do our duty and bury the dead, if possible.” + +“Turn around,” directed Corpang. + +Maskull looked around quickly. Leehallfae’s body had disappeared. + +“What does this mean—what has happened?” + +“The body has returned to whence it came. There was nowhere here for it +to be, so it has vanished. No burial will be required.” + +“Was the phaen an illusion, then?” + +“In no sense.” + +“Well, explain quickly, then, what has taken place. I seem to be going +mad.” + +“There’s nothing unintelligible in it, if you’ll only listen calmly. The +phaen belonged, body and soul, to the outside, visible world—to Faceny. +This underworld is not Faceny’s world, but Thire’s, and Faceny’s +creatures cannot breathe its atmosphere. As this applies not only to +whole bodies, but even to the last particles of bodies, the phaen has +dissolved into Nothingness.” + +“But don’t you and I belong to the outside world too?” + +“We belong to all three worlds.” + +“What three worlds—what do you mean?” + +“There are three worlds,” said Corpang composedly. “The first is +Faceny’s, the second is Amfuse’s, the third is Thire’s. From him Threal +gets its name.” + +“But this is mere nomenclature. In what sense are there three worlds?” + +Corpang passed his hand over his forehead. “All this we can discuss as +we go along. It’s a torment to me to be standing still.” + +Maskull stared again at the spot where Leehallfae’s body had lain, quite +bewildered at the extraordinary disappearance. He could scarcely tear +himself away from the place, so mysterious was it. Not until Corpang +called to him a second time did he make up his mind to follow him. + +They set off from the rock wall straight across the airlit plain, +directing their course toward the nearest trees. The subdued light, the +absence of shadows, the massive shafts, springing grey-white out of the +jetlike ground, the fantastic trees, the absence of a sky, the deathly +silence, the knowledge that he was underground—the combination of all +these things predisposed Maskull’s mind to mysticism, and he prepared +himself with some anxiety to hear Corpang’s explanation of the land and +its wonders. He already began to grasp that the reality of the outside +world and the reality of this world were two quite different things. + +“In what sense are there three worlds?” he demanded, repeating his +former question. + +Corpang smote the end of his staff on the ground. “First of all, +Maskull, what is your motive for asking? If it’s mere intellectual +curiosity, tell me, for we mustn’t play with awful matters.” + +“No, it isn’t that,” said Maskull slowly. “I’m not a student. My journey +is no holiday tour.” + +“Isn’t there blood on your soul?” asked Corpang, eying him intently. + +The blood rose steadily to Maskull’s face, but in that light it caused +it to appear black. + +“Unfortunately there is, and not a little.” + +The other’s face was all wrinkles, but he made no comment. + +“And so you see,” went on Maskull, with a short laugh, “I’m in the very +best condition for receiving your instruction.” + +Corpang still paused. “Underneath your crimes I see a man,” he said, +after a few minutes. “On that account, and because we are commanded to +help one another, I won’t leave you at present, though I little thought +to be walking with a murderer.... Now to your question.... Whatever a +man sees with his eyes, Maskull, he sees in three ways—length, breadth, +depth. Length is existence, breadth is relation, depth is feeling.” + +“Something of the sort was told me by Earthrid, the musician, who came +from Threal.” + +“I don’t know him. What else did he tell you?” + +“He went on to apply it to music. Continue, and pardon the +interruption.” + +“These three states of perception are the three worlds. Existence is +Faceny’s world, relation is Amfuse’s world, feeling is Thire’s world.” + +“Can’t we come down to hard facts?” said Maskull, frowning. “I +understand no more than I did before what you mean by three worlds.” + +“There are no harder facts than the ones I am giving you. The first +world is visible, tangible Nature. It was created by Faceny out of +nothingness, and therefore we call it Existence.” + +“That I understand.” + +“The second world is Love—by which I don’t mean lust. Without love, +every individual would be entirely self-centred and unable deliberately +to act on others. Without love, there would be no sympathy—not even +hatred, anger, or revenge would be possible. These are all imperfect and +distorted forms of pure love. Interpenetrating Faceny’s world of Nature, +therefore, we have Amfuse’s world of Love, or Relation.” + +“What grounds have you for assuming that this so-called second world is +not contained in the first?” + +“They are contradictory. A natural man lives for himself; a lover lives +for others.” + +“It may be so. It’s rather mystical. But go on—who is Thire?” + +“Length and breadth together without depth give flatness. Life and love +without feeling produce shallow, superficial natures. Feeling is the +need of men to stretch out toward their creator.” + +“You mean prayer and worship?” + +“I mean intimacy with Thire. This feeling is not to be found in either +the first or second world, therefore it is a third world. Just as depth +is the line between object and subject, feeling is the line between +Thire and man.” + +“But what is Thire himself?” + +“Thire is the afterworld.” + +“I still don’t understand,” said Maskull. “Do you believe in three +separate gods, or are these merely three ways of regarding one God?” + +“There are three gods, for they are mutually antagonistic. Yet they are +somehow united.” + +Maskull reflected a while. “How have you arrived at these conclusions?” + +“None other are possible in Threal, Maskull.” + +“Why in Threal—what is there peculiar here?” + +“I will show you presently.” + +They walked on for above a mile in silence, while Maskull digested what +had been said. When they came to the first trees, which grew along the +banks of a small stream of transparent water, Corpang halted. + +“That bandage around your forehead has long been unnecessary,” he +remarked. + +Maskull removed it. He found that the line of his brow was smooth and +uninterrupted, as it had never yet been since his arrival in Tormance. + +“How has this come about—and how did you know it?” + +“They were Faceny’s organs. They have vanished, just as the phaen’s body +vanished.” + +Maskull kept rubbing his forehead. “I feel more human without them. But +why isn’t the rest of my body affected?” + +“Because its living will contains the element of Thire.” + +“Why are we stopping here?” + +Corpang broke off the tip of one of the aerial roots of a tree, and +proffered it to him. “Eat this, Maskull.” + +“For food, or something else?” + +“Food for body and soul.” + +Maskull bit into the root. It was white and hard; its white sap was +bleeding. It had no taste, but after eating it, he experienced a change +of perception. The landscape, without alteration of light or outline, +became several degrees more stern and sacred. When he looked at Corpang +he was impressed by his aspect of Gothic awfulness, but the perplexed +expression was still in his eyes. + +“Do you spend all your time here, Corpang?” + +“Occasionally I go above, but not often.” + +“What fastens you to this gloomy world?” + +“The search for Thire.” + +“Then it’s still a search?” + +“Let us walk on.” + +As they resumed their journey across the dim, gradually rising plain, +the conversation became even more earnest in character than before. +“Although I was not born here,” proceeded Corpang, “I’ve lived here for +twenty-five years, and during all that time I have been drawing nearer +to Thire, as I hope. But there is this peculiarity about it—the first +stages are richer in fruit and more promising than the later ones. The +longer a man seeks Thire, the more he seems to absent himself. In the +beginning he is felt and known, sometimes as a shape, sometimes as a +voice, sometimes an overpowering emotion. Later on all is dry, dark, and +harsh in the soul. Then you would think that Thire was a million miles +off.” + +“How do you explain that?” + +“When everything is darkest, he may be nearest, Maskull.” + +“But this is troubling you?” + +“My days are spent in torture.” + +“You still persist, though? This day darkness can’t be the ultimate +state?” + +“My questions will be answered.” + +A silence ensued. + +“What do you propose to show me?” asked Maskull. + +“The land is about to grow wilder. I am taking you to the Three Figures, +which were carved and erected by an earlier race of men. There, we will +pray.” + +“And what then?” + +“If you are truehearted, you will see things you will not easily +forget.” + +They had been walking slightly uphill in a sort of trough between two +parallel, gently sloping downs. The trough now deepened, while the hills +on either side grew steeper. They were in an ascending valley and, as it +curved this way and that, the landscape was shut off from view. They +came to a little spring, bubbling up from the ground. It formed a +trickling brook, which was unlike all other brooks in that it was +flowing up the valley instead of down. Before long it was joined by +other miniature rivulets, so that in the end it became a fair-sized +stream. Maskull kept looking at it, and puckering his forehead. + +“Nature has other laws here, it seems?” + +“Nothing can exist here that is not a compound of the three worlds.” + +“Yet the water is flowing somewhere.” + +“I can’t explain it, but there are three wills in it.” + +“Is there no such thing as pure Thire-matter?” + +“Thire cannot exist without Amfuse, and Amfuse cannot exist without +Faceny.” + +Maskull thought this over for some minutes. “That must be so,” he said +at last. “Without life there can be no love, and without love there can +be no religious feeling.” + +In the half light of the land, the tops of the hills containing the +valley presently attained such a height that they could not be seen. The +sides were steep and craggy, while the bed of the valley grew narrower +at every step. Not a living organism was visible. All was unnatural and +sepulchral. + +Maskull said, “I feel as if I were dead, and walking in another world.” + +“I still do not know what you are doing here,” answered Corpang. + +“Why should I go on making a mystery of it? I came to find Surtur.” + +“That name I’ve heard—but under what circumstances?” + +“You forget?” + +Corpang walked along, his eyes fixed on the ground, obviously troubled. +“Who is Surtur?” + +Maskull shook his head, and said nothing. + +The valley shortly afterward narrowed, so that the two men, touching +fingertips in the middle, could have placed their free hands on the rock +walls on either side. It threatened to terminate in a cul-de-sac, but +just when the road seemed least promising, and they were shut in by +cliffs on all sides, a hitherto unperceived bend brought them suddenly +into the open. They emerged through a mere crack in the line of +precipices. + +A sort of huge natural corridor was running along at right angles to the +way they had come; both ends faded into obscurity after a few hundred +yards. Right down the centre of this corridor ran a chasm with +perpendicular sides; its width varied from thirty to a hundred feet, but +its bottom could not be seen. On both sides of the chasm, facing one +another, were platforms of rock, twenty feet or so in width; they too +proceeded in both directions out of sight. Maskull and Corpang emerged +onto one of these platforms. The shelf opposite was a few feet higher +than that on which they stood. The platforms were backed by a double +line of lofty and unclimbable cliffs, whose tops were invisible. + +The stream, which had accompanied them through the gap, went straight +forward, but, instead of descending the wall of the chasm as a +waterfall, it crossed from side to side like a liquid bridge. It then +disappeared through a cleft in the cliffs on the opposite side. + +To Maskull’s mind, however, even more wonderful than this unnatural +phenomenon was the absence of shadows, which was more noticeable here +than on the open plain. It made the place look like a hall of phantoms. + +Corpang, without delay, led the way along the shelf to the left. When +they had walked about a mile, the gulf widened to two hundred feet. +Three large rocks loomed up on the ledge opposite; they resembled three +upright giants, standing motionless side by side on the extreme edge of +the chasm. Corpang and Maskull drew nearer, and then Maskull saw that +they were statues. Each was about thirty feet high, and the workmanship +was of the rudest. They represented naked men, but the limbs and trunks +had been barely chipped into shape—the faces alone had had care bestowed +on them, and even these faces were merely generalised. It was obviously +the work of primitive artists. The statues stood erect with knees closed +and arms hanging straight down their sides. All three were exactly +alike. + +As soon as they were directly opposite, Corpang halted. + +“Is this a representation of your three Beings?” asked Maskull, awed by +the spectacle in spite of his constitutional audacity. + +“Ask no questions, but kneel,” replied Corpang. He dropped onto his own +knees, but Maskull remained standing. + +Corpang covered his eyes with one hand, and prayed silently. After a few +minutes the light sensibly faded. Then Maskull knelt as well, but he +continued looking. + +It grew darker and darker, until all was like the blackest night. Sight +and sound no longer existed; he was alone with his own spirit. + +Then one of the three Colossi came slowly into sight again. But it had +ceased to be a statue—it was a living person. Out of the blackness of +space a gigantic head and chest emerged, illuminated by a mystic, rosy +glow, like a mountain peak bathed by the rising sun. As the light grew +stronger Maskull saw that the flesh was translucent and that the glow +came from within. The limbs of the apparition were wreathed in mist. + +Before long the features of the face stood out distinctly. It was that +of a beardless youth of twenty years. It possessed the beauty of a girl +and the daring force of a man; it bore a mocking, cryptic smile. Maskull +felt the fresh, mysterious thrill of mingled pain and rapture of one who +awakes from a deep sleep in midwinter and sees the gleaming, dark, +delicate colours of the half-dawn. The vision smiled, kept still, and +looked beyond him. He began to shudder, with delight—and many emotions. +As he gazed, his poetic sensibility acquired such a nervous and +indefinable character that he could endure it no more; he burst into +tears. + +When he looked up again the image had nearly disappeared, and in a few +moments more he was plunged back into total darkness. + +Shortly afterward a second statue reappeared. It too was transfigured +into a living form, but Maskull was unable to see the details of its +face and body, because of the brightness of the light that radiated from +them. This light, which started as pale gold, ended as flaming golden +fire. It illumined the whole underground landscape. The rock ledges, the +cliffs, himself and Corpang on their knees, the two unlighted +statues—all appeared as if in sunlight, and the shadows were black and +strongly defined. The light carried heat with it, but a singular heat. +Maskull was unaware of any rise in temperature, but he felt his heart +melting to womanish softness. His male arrogance and egotism faded +imperceptibly away; his personality seemed to disappear. What was left +behind was not freedom of spirit or lightheartedness, but a passionate +and nearly savage mental state of pity and distress. He felt a +tormenting desire to serve. All this came from the heat of the statue, +and was without an object. He glanced anxiously around him, and fastened +his eyes on Corpang. He put a hand on his shoulder and aroused him from +his praying. + +“You must know what I am feeling, Corpang.” + +Corpang smiled sweetly, but said nothing. + +“I care nothing for my own affairs any more. How can I help you?” + +“So much the better for you, Maskull, if you respond so quickly to the +invisible worlds.” + +As soon as he had spoken, the figure began to vanish, and the light to +die away from the landscape. Maskull’s emotion slowly subsided, but it +was not until he was once more in complete darkness that he became +master of himself again. Then he felt ashamed of his boyish exhibition +of enthusiasm, and thought ruefully that there must be something wanting +in his character. He got up onto his feet. + +The very moment that he arose, a man’s voice sounded, not a yard from +his ear. It was hardly raised above a whisper, but he could distinguish +that it was not Corpang’s. As he listened he was unable to prevent +himself from physically trembling. + +“Maskull, you are to die,” said the unseen speaker. + +“Who is speaking?” + +“You have only a few hours of life left. Don’t trifle the time away.” + +Maskull could bring nothing out. + +“You have despised life,” went on the low-toned voice. “Do you really +imagine that this mighty world has no meaning, and that life is a joke?” + +“What must I do?” + +“Repent your murders, commit no fresh ones, pay honour to...” + +The voice died away. Maskull waited in silence for it to speak again. +All remained still, however, and the speaker appeared to have taken his +departure. Supernatural horror seized him; he fell into a sort of +catalepsy. + +At that moment he saw one of the statues fading away, from a pale, white +glow to darkness. He had not previously seen it shining. + +In a few more minutes the normal light of the land returned. Corpang got +up, and shook him out of his trance. + +Maskull looked around, but saw no third person. “Whose statue was the +last?” he demanded. + +“Thire’s.” + +“Did you hear me speaking?” + +“I heard your voice, but no one else’s.” + +“I’ve just had my death foretold, so I suppose I have not long to live. +Leehallfae prophesied the same thing.” + +Corpang shook his head. “What value do you set on life?” he asked. + +“Very little. But it’s a fearful thing all the same.” + +“Your death is?” + +“No, but this warning.” + +They stopped talking. A profound silence reigned. Neither of the two men +seemed to know what to do next, or where to go. Then both of them heard +the sound of drumming. It was slow, emphatic, and impressive, a long way +off and not loud, but against the background of quietness, very marked. +It appeared to come from some point out of sight, to the left of where +they were standing, but on the same rock shelf. Maskull’s heart beat +quickly. + +“What can that sound be?” asked Corpang, peering into the obscurity. + +“It is Surtur.” + +“Once again, who is Surtur?” + +Maskull clutched his arm and pressed him to silence. A strange radiance +was in the air, in the direction of the drumming. It increased in +intensity and gradually occupied the whole scene. Things were no longer +seen by Their’s light, but by this new light. It cast no shadows. + +Corpang’s nostrils swelled, and he held himself more proudly. “What fire +is that?” + +“It is Muspel-light.” + +They both glanced instinctively at the three statues. In the strange +glow they had undergone a change. The face of each figure was clothed in +the sordid and horrible Crystalman mask. + +Corpang cried out and put his hand over his eyes. “What can this mean?” +he asked a minute later. + +“It must mean that life is wrong, and the creator of life too, whether +he is one person or three.” + +Corpang looked again, like a man trying to accustom himself to a +shocking sight. “Dare we believe this?” + +“You must,” replied Maskull. “You have always served the highest, and +you must continue to do so. It has simply turned out that Thire is not +the highest.” + +Corpang’s face became swollen with a kind of coarse anger. “Life is +clearly false—I have been seeking Thire for a lifetime, and now I +find—this.” + +“You have nothing to reproach yourself with. Crystalman has had eternity +to practice his cunning in, so it’s no wonder if a man can’t see +straight, even with the best intentions. What have you decided to do?” + +“The drumming seems to be moving away. Will you follow it, Maskull?” + +“Yes.” + +“But where will it take us?” + +“Perhaps out of Threal altogether.” + +“It sounds to me more real than reality,” said Corpang. “Tell me, who is +Surtur?” + +“Surtur’s world, or Muspel, we are told, is the original of which this +world is a distorted copy. Crystalman is life, but Surtur is other than +life.” + +“How do you know this?” + +“It has sprung together somehow—from inspiration, from experience, from +conversation with the wise men of your planet. Every hour it grows truer +for me and takes a more definite shape.” + +Corpang stood up squarely, facing the three Figures with a harsh, +energetic countenance, stamped all over with resolution. “I believe you, +Maskull. No better proof is required than that. Thire is not the +highest; he is even in a certain sense the lowest. Nothing but the +thoroughly false and base could stoop to such deceits.... I am coming +with you—but don’t play the traitor. These signs may be for you, and not +for me at all, and if you leave me—” + +“I make no promises. I don’t ask you to come with me. If you prefer to +stay in your little world, or if you have any doubts about it, you had +better not come.” + +“Don’t talk like that. I shall never forget your service to me... Let us +make haste, or we shall lose the sound.” + +Corpang started off more eagerly than Maskull. They walked fast in the +direction of the drumming. For upward of two miles the path went along +the ledge without any change of level. The mysterious radiance gradually +departed, and was replaced by the normal light of Threal. The rhythmical +beats continued, but a very long way ahead—neither was able to diminish +the distance. + +“What kind of man are you?” Corpang suddenly broke out. + +“In what respect?” + +“How do you come to be on such terms with the Invisible? How is it that +I’ve never had this experience before I met you, in spite of my never- +ending prayers and mortifications? In what way are you superior to me?” + +“To hear voices perhaps can’t be made a profession,” replied Maskull. “I +have a simple and unoccupied mind—that may be why I sometimes hear +things that up to the present you have not been able to.” + +Corpang darkened, and kept silent; and then Maskull saw through to his +pride. + +The ledge presently began to rise. They were high above the platform on +the opposite side of the gulf. The road then curved sharply to the +right, and they passed over the abyss and the other ledge as by a +bridge, coming out upon the top of the opposite cliffs. A new line of +precipices immediately confronted them. They followed the drumming along +the base of these heights, but as they were passing the mouth of a large +cave the sound came from its recesses, and they turned their steps +inward. + +“This leads to the outer world,” remarked Corpang. “I’ve occasionally +been there by this passage.” + +“Then that’s where it is taking us, no doubt. I confess I shan’t be +sorry to see sunlight once more.” + +“Can you find time to think of sunlight?” asked Corpang with a rough +smile. + +“I love the sun, and perhaps I’m rather lacking in the spirit of a +zealot.” + +“Yet, for all that, you may get there before me.” + +“Don’t be bitter,” said Maskull. “I’ll tell you another thing. Muspel +can’t be willed, for the simple reason that Muspel does not concern the +will. To will is a property of this world.” + +“Then what is your journey for?” + +“It’s one thing to walk to a destination, and to linger over the walk, +and quite another to run there at top speed.” + +“Perhaps I’m not so easily deceived as you think,” said Corpang with +another smile. + +The light persisted in the cave. The path narrowed and became a steep +ascent. Then the angle became one of forty-five degrees, and they had to +climb. The tunnel grew so confined that Maskull was reminded of the +confined dreams of his childhood. + +Not long afterward, daylight appeared. They hastened to complete the +last stage. Maskull rushed out first into the world of colours and, all +dirty and bleeding from numerous scratches, stood blinking on a +hillside, bathed in the brilliant late-afternoon sunshine. Corpang +followed closely at his heels. He was obliged to shield his eyes with +his hands for a few minutes, so unaccustomed was he to Branchspell’s +blinding rays. + +“The drum beats have stopped!” he exclaimed suddenly. + +“You can’t expect music all the time,” answered Maskull dryly. “We +mustn’t be luxurious.” + +“But now we have no guide. We’re no better off than before.” + +“Well, Tormance is a big place. But I have an infallible rule, Corpang. +As I come from the south, I always go due north.” + +“That will take us to Lichstorm.” + +Maskull gazed at the fantastically piled rocks all around them. “I saw +these rocks from Matterplay. The mountains look as far off now as they +did then, and there’s not much of the day left. How far is Lichstorm +from here?” + +Corpang looked away to the distant range. “I don’t know, but unless a +miracle happens we shan’t get there tonight.” + +“I have a feeling,” said Maskull, “that we shall not only get there +tonight, but that tonight will be the most important in my life.” + +And he sat down passively to rest. + + + +Chapter 18. HAUNTE + +While Maskull sat, Corpang walked restlessly to and fro, swinging his +arms. He had lost his staff. His face was inflamed with suppressed +impatience, which accentuated its natural coarseness. At last he stopped +short in front of Maskull and looked down at him. “What do you intend to +do?” + +Maskull glanced up and idly waved his hand toward the distant mountains. +“Since we can’t walk, we must wait.” + +“For what?” + +“I don’t know... How’s this, though? Those peaks have changed colour, +from red to green.” + +“Yes, the lich wind is travelling this way.” + +“The lich wind?” + +“It’s the atmosphere of Lichstorm. It always clings to the mountains, +but when the wind blows from the north it comes as far as Threal.” + +“It’s a sort of fog, then?” + +“A peculiar sort, for they say it excites the sexual passions.” + +“So we are to have lovemaking,” said Maskull, laughing. + +“Perhaps you won’t find it so joyous,” replied Corpang a little grimly. + +“But tell me—these peaks, how do they preserve their balance?” + +Corpang gazed at the distant, overhanging summits, which were fast +fading into obscurity. + +“Passion keeps them from falling.” + +Maskull laughed again; he was feeling a strange disturbance of spirit. +“What, the love of rock for rock?” + +“It is comical, but true.” + +“We’ll take a closer peep at them presently. Beyond the mountains is +Barey, is it not?” + +“Yes.” + +“And then the Ocean. But what is the name of that Ocean?” + +“That is told only to those who die beside it.” + +“Is the secret so precious, Corpang?” + +Branchspell was nearing the horizon in the west; there were more than +two hours of daylight remaining. The air all around them became murky. +It was a thin mist, neither damp nor cold. The Lichstorm Range now +appeared only as a blur on the sky. The air was electric and tingling, +and was exciting in its effect. Maskull felt a sort of emotional +inflammation, as though a very slight external cause would serve to +overturn his self-control. Corpang stood silent with a mouth like iron. + +Maskull kept looking toward a high pile of rocks in the vicinity. + +“That seems to me a good watchtower. Perhaps we shall see something from +the top.” + +Without waiting for his companion’s opinion, he began to scramble up the +tor, and in a few minutes was standing on the summit. Corpang joined +him. + +From their viewpoint they saw the whole countryside sloping down to the +sea, which appeared as a mere flash of far-off, glittering water. +Leaving all that, however, Maskull’s eyes immediately fastened +themselves on a small, boat-shaped object, about two miles away, which +was travelling rapidly toward them, suspended only a few feet in the +air. + +“What do you make of that?” he asked in a tone of astonishment. + +Corpang shook his head and said nothing. + +Within two minutes the flying object, whatever it was, had diminished +the distance between them by one half. It resembled a boat more and +more, but its flight was erratic, rather than smooth; its nose was +continually jerking upward and downward, and from side to side. Maskull +now made out a man sitting in the stern, and what looked like a large +dead animal lying amidships. As the aerial craft drew nearer, he +observed a thick, blue haze underneath it, and a similar haze behind, +but the front, facing them, was clear. + +“Here must be what we are waiting for, Corpang. But what on earth +carries it?” + +He stroked his beard contemplatively, and then, fearing that they had +not been seen, stepped onto the highest rock, bellowed loudly, and made +wild motions with his arm. The flying-boat, which was only a few hundred +yards distant, slightly altered its course, now heading toward them in a +way that left no doubt that the steersman had detected their presence. + +The boat slackened speed until it was travelling no faster than a +walking man, but the irregularity of its movements continued. It was +shaped rather queerly. About twenty feet long, its straight sides +tapered off from a flat bow, four feet broad, to a sharp-angled stern. +The flat bottom was not above ten feet from the ground. It was undecked, +and carried only one living occupant; the other object they had +distinguished was really the carcass of an animal, of about the size of +a large sheep. The blue haze trailing behind the boat appeared to +emanate from the glittering point of a short upright pole fastened in +the stern. When the craft was within a few feet of them, and they were +looking down at it in wonder from above, the man removed this pole and +covered the brightly shining tip with a cap. The forward motion then +ceased altogether, and the boat began to drift hither and thither, but +still it remained suspended in the air, while the haze underneath +persisted. Finally the broad side came gently up against the pile of +rocks on which they were standing. The steersman jumped ashore and +immediately clambered up to meet them. + +Maskull offered him a hand, but he refused it disdainfully. He was a +young man, of middle height. He wore a close-fitting fur garment. His +limbs were quite ordinary, but his trunk was disproportionately long, +and he had the biggest and deepest chest that Maskull had ever seen in a +man. His hairless face was sharp, pointed, and ugly, with protruding +teeth, and a spiteful, grinning expression. His eyes and brows sloped +upward. On his forehead was an organ which looked as though it had been +mutilated—it was a mere disagreeable stump of flesh. His hair was short +and thin. Maskull could not name the colour of his skin, but it seemed +to stand in the same relation to jale as green to red. + +Once up, the stranger stood for a minute or two, scrutinising the two +companions through half-closed lids, all the time smiling insolently. +Maskull was all eagerness to exchange words, but did not care to be the +first to speak. Corpang stood moodily, a little in the background. + +“What men are you?” demanded the aerial navigator at last. His voice was +extremely loud, and possessed a most unpleasant timbre. It sounded to +Maskull like a large volume of air trying to force its way through a +narrow orifice. + +“I am Maskull; my friend is Corpang. He comes from Threal, but where I +come from, don’t ask.” + +“I am Haunte, from Sarclash.” + +“Where may that be?” + +“Half an hour ago I could have shown it to you, but now it has got too +murky. It is a mountain in Lichstorm.” + +“Are you returning there now?” + +“Yes.” + +“And how long will it take to get there in that boat?” + +“Two—three hours.” + +“Will it accommodate us too?” + +“What, are you for Lichstorm as well? What can you want there?” + +“To see the sights,” responded Maskull with twinkling eyes. “But first +of all, to dine. I can’t remember having eaten all day. You seem to have +been hunting to some purpose, so we won’t lack for food.” + +Haunte eyed him quizzically. “You certainly don’t lack impudence. +However, I’m a man of that sort myself, and it is the sort I prefer. +Your friend, now, would probably rather starve than ask a meal of a +stranger. He looks to me just like a bewildered toad dragged up out of a +dark hole.” + +Maskull took Corpang’s arm, and constrained him to silence. + +“Where have you been hunting, Haunte?” + +“Matterplay. I had the worst luck—I speared one wold horse, and there it +lies.” + +“What is Lichstorm like?” + +“There are men there, and there are women there, but there are no men- +women, as with you.” + +“What do you call men-women?” + +“Persons of mixed sex, like yourself. In Lichstorm the sexes are pure.” + +“I have always regarded myself as a man.” + +“Very likely you have; but the test is, do you hate and fear women?” + +“Why, do you?” + +Haunte grinned and showed his teeth. “Things are different in +Lichstorm.... So you want to see the sights?” + +“I confess I am curious to see your women, for example, after what you +say.” + +“Then I’ll introduce you to Sullenbode.” + +He paused a moment after making this remark, and then suddenly uttered a +great, bass laugh, so that his chest shook. + +“Let us share the joke,” said Maskull. + +“Oh, you’ll understand it later.” + +“If you play pranks with me, I won’t stand on ceremony with you.” + +Haunte laughed again. “I won’t be the one to play pranks. Sullenbode +will be deeply obliged to me. If I don’t visit her myself as often as +she would like, I’m always glad to serve her in other ways.... Well, you +shall have your boat ride.” + +Maskull rubbed his nose doubtfully. “If the sexes hate one another in +your land, is it because passion is weaker, or stronger?” + +“In other parts of the world there is soft passion, but in Lichstorm +there is hard passion.” + +“But what do you call hard passion?” + +“Where men are called to women by pain, and not pleasure.” + +“I intend to understand, before I’ve finished.” + +“Yes,” answered Haunte, with a taunting look, “it would be a pity to let +the chance slip, since you’re going to Lichstorm.” + +It was now Corpang’s turn to take Maskull by the arm. “This journey will +end badly.” + +“Why so?” + +“Your goal was Muspel a short while ago; now it is women.” + +“Let me alone,” said Maskull. “Give luck a slack rein. What brought this +boat here?” + +“What is this talk about Muspel?” demanded Haunte. + +Corpang caught his shoulder roughly, and stared straight into his eyes. +“What do you know?” + +“Not much, but something, perhaps. Ask me at supper. Now it is high time +to start. Navigating the mountains by night isn’t child’s play, let me +tell you.” + +“I shall not forget,” said Corpang. + +Maskull gazed down at the boat. “Are we to get in?” + +“Gently, my friend. It’s only canework and skin.” + +“First of all, you might enlighten me as to how you have contrived to +dispense with the laws of gravitation.” + +Haunte smiled sarcastically. “A secret in your ear, Maskull. All laws +are female. A true male is an outlaw—outside the law.” + +“I don’t understand.” + +“The great body of the earth is continually giving out female particles, +and the male parts of rocks and living bodies are equally continually +trying to reach them. That’s gravitation.” + +“Then how do you manage with your boat?” + +“My two male stones do the work. The one underneath the boat prevents it +from falling to the ground; the one in the stern shuts it off from solid +objects in the rear. The only part of the boat attracted by any part of +the earth is the bow, for that’s the only part the light of the male +stones does not fall on. So in that direction the boat travels.” + +“And what are these wondrous male stones?” + +“They really are male stones. There is nothing female in them; they are +showering out male sparks all the time. These sparks devour all the +female particles rising from the earth. No female particles are left +over to attract the male parts of the boat, and so they are not in the +least attracted in that direction.” + +Maskull ruminated for a minute. + +“With your hunting, and boatbuilding, and science, you seem a very +handy, skilful fellow, Haunte.... But the sun’s sinking, and we’d better +start.” + +“Get down first, then, and shift that carcass farther forward. Then you +and your gloomy friend can sit amidships.” + +Maskull immediately climbed down, and dropped himself into the boat; but +then he received a surprise. The moment he stood on the frail bottom, +still clinging to the rock, not only did his weight entirely disappear, +as though he were floating in some heavy medium, like salt water, but +the rock he held onto drew him, as by a mild current of electricity, and +he was able to withdraw his hands only with difficulty. + +After the first moment’s shock, he quietly accepted the new order of +things, and set about shifting the carcass. Since there was no weight in +the boat this was effected without any great labour. Corpang then +descended. The astonishing physical change had no power to disturb his +settled composure, which was founded on moral ideas. Haunte came last; +grasping the staff which held the upper male stone, he proceeded to +erect it, after removing the cap. Maskull then obtained his first near +view of the mysterious light, which, by counteracting the forces of +Nature, acted indirectly not only as elevator but as motive force. In +the last ruddy gleams of the great sun, its rays were obscured, and it +looked little more impressive than an extremely brilliant, scintillating +blue-white jewel, but its power could be gauged by the visible, coloured +mist that it threw out for many yards around. + +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; thire 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 liquor 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. + +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 lips 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.” + +“What light is that?” + +“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.” + +“Surely that death is balanced by the life you have given me.” They left +the spot in the direction opposite to that by which the three men had +arrived. After a few steps, they came to green snow again. At the same +time the flat ground ended, and they started to traverse a steep, +pathless mountain slope. The snow and rocks glimmered, their own bodies +shone; otherwise everything was dark. The mists swirled around them, but +Maskull had no more nightmares. The breeze was cold, pure, and steady. +They walked in file, Sullenbode leading; her movements were slow and +fascinating. Corpang came last. His stern eyes saw nothing ahead but an +alluring girl and a half-infatuated man. + +For a long time they continued crossing the rough and rocky slope, +maintaining a slightly upward course. The angle was so steep that a +false step would have been fatal. The high ground was on their right. +After a while, the hillside on the left hand changed to level ground, +and they seemed to have joined another spur of the mountain. The +ascending slope on the right hand persisted for a few hundred yards +more. Then Sullenbode bore sharply to the left, and they found level +ground all around them. + +“We are on the ridge,” announced the woman, halting. + +The others came up to her, and at the same instant the moon burst +through the clouds, illuminating the whole scene. + +Maskull uttered a cry. The wild, noble, lonely beauty of the view was +quite unexpected. Teargeld was high in the sky to their left, shining +down on them from behind. Straight in front, like an enormously wide, +smoothly descending road, lay the great ridge which went on to Adage, +though Adage itself was out of sight. It was never less than two hundred +yards wide. It was covered with green snow, in some places entirely, but +in other places the naked rocks showed through like black teeth. From +where they stood they were unable to see the sides of the ridge, or what +lay underneath. On the right hand, which was north, the landscape was +blurred and indistinct. There were no peaks there; it was the distant, +low-lying land of Barey. But on the left hand appeared a whole forest of +mighty pinnacles, near and far, as far as the eye could see in +moonlight. All glittered green, and all possessed the extraordinary +hanging caps that characterised the Lichstorm range. These caps were of +fantastic shapes, and each one was different. The valley directly +opposite them was filled with rolling mist. + +Sarclash was a mighty mountain mass in the shape of a horseshoe. Its two +ends pointed west, and were separated from each other by a mile or more +of empty space. The northern end became the ridge on which they stood. +The southern end was the long line of cliffs on that part of the +mountain where Haunte’s cave was situated. The connecting curve was the +steep slope they had just traversed. One peak of Sarclash was invisible. + +In the south-west many mountains raised their heads. In addition, a few +summits, which must have been of extraordinary height, appeared over the +south side of the horseshoe. + +Maskull turned round to put a question to Sullenbode, but when he saw +her for the first time in moonlight the words he had framed died on his +lips. The gashlike mouth no longer dominated her other features, and the +face, pale as ivory and most femininely shaped, suddenly became almost +beautiful. The lips were a long, womanish curve of rose-red. Her hair +was a dark maroon. Maskull was greatly disturbed; he thought that she +resembled a spirit, rather than a woman. + +“What puzzles you?” she asked, smiling. + +“Nothing. But I would like to see you by sunlight.” + +“Perhaps you never will.” + +“Your life must be most solitary.” + +She explored his features with her black, slow-gleaming eyes. “Why do +you fear to speak your feelings, Maskull?” + +“Things seem to open up before me like a sunrise, but what it means I +can’t say.” + +Sullenbode laughed outright. “It assuredly does not mean the approach of +night.” + +Corpang, who had been staring steadily along the ridge, here abruptly +broke in. “The road is plain now, Maskull. If you wish it, I’ll go on +alone.” + +“No, we’ll go on together. Sullenbode will accompany us.” + +“A little way,” said the woman, “but not to Adage, to pit my strength +against unseen powers. That light is not for me. I know how to renounce +love, but I will never be a traitor to it.” + +“Who knows what we shall find on Adage, or what will happen? Corpang is +as ignorant as myself.” + +Corpang looked him full in the face. “Maskull, you are quite well aware +that you never dare approach that awful fire in the society of a +beautiful woman.” + +Maskull gave an uneasy laugh. “What Corpang doesn’t tell you, +Sullenbode, is that I am far better acquainted with Muspel-light than +he, and that, but for a chance meeting with me, he would still be saying +his prayers in Threal.” + +“Still, what he says must be true,” she replied, looking from one to the +other. + +“And so I am not to be allowed to—” + +“So long as I am with you, I shall urge you onward, and not backward, +Maskull.” + +“We need not quarrel yet,” he remarked, with a forced smile. “No doubt +things will straighten themselves out.” + +Sullenbode began kicking the snow about with her foot. “I picked up +another piece of wisdom in my sleep, Corpang.” + +“Tell it to me, then.” + +“Men who live by laws and rules are parasites. Others shed their +strength to bring these laws out of nothing into the light of day, but +the law-abiders live at their ease—they have conquered nothing for +themselves.” + +“It is given to some to discover, and to others to preserve and perfect. +You cannot condemn me for wishing Maskull well.” + +“No, but a child cannot lead a thunderstorm.” + +They started walking again along the centre of the ridge. All three were +abreast, Sullenbode in the middle. + +The road descended by an easy gradient, and was for a long distance +comparatively smooth. The freezing point seemed higher than on Earth, +for the few inches of snow through which they trudged felt almost warm +to their naked feet. Maskull’s soles were by now like tough hides. The +moonlit snow was green and dazzling. Their slanting, abbreviated shadows +were sharply defined, and red-black in colour. Maskull, who walked on +Sullenbode’s right hand, looked constantly to the left, toward the +galaxy of glorious distant peaks. + +“You cannot belong to this world,” said the woman. “Men of your stamp +are not to be looked for here.” + +“No, I have come here from Earth.” + +“Is that larger than our world?” + +“Smaller, I think. Small, and overcrowded with men and women. With all +those people, confusion would result but for orderly laws, and therefore +the laws are of iron. As adventure would be impossible without +encroaching on these laws, there is no longer any spirit of adventure +among the Earthmen. Everything is safe, vulgar, and completed.” + +“Do men hate women there, and women men?” + +“No, the meeting of the sexes is sweet, though shameful. So poignant is +the sweetness that the accompanying shame is ignored, with open eyes. +There is no hatred, or only among a few eccentric persons.” + +“That shame surely must be the rudiment of our Lichstorm passion. But +now say—why did you come here?” + +“To meet with new experiences, perhaps. The old ones no longer +interested me.” + +“How long have you been in this world?” + +“This is the end of my fourth day.” + +“Then tell me what you have seen and done during those four days. You +cannot have been inactive.” + +“Great misfortunes have happened to me.” + +He proceeded briefly to relate everything that had taken place from the +moment of his first awakening in the scarlet desert. Sullenbode +listened, with half-closed eyes, nodding her head from time to time. +Only twice did she interrupt him. After his description of Tydomin’s +death, she said, speaking in a low voice—“None of us women ought by +right of nature to fall short of Tydomin in sacrifice. For that one act +of hers, I almost love her, although she brought evil to your door.” +Again, speaking of Gleameil, she remarked, “That grand-souled girl I +admire the most of all. She listened to her inner voice, and to nothing +else besides. Which of us others is strong enough for that?” + +When his tale was quite over, Sullenbode said, “Does it not strike you, +Maskull, that these women you have met have been far nobler than the +men?” + +“I recognise that. We men often sacrifice ourselves, but only for a +substantial cause. For you women almost any cause will serve. You love +the sacrifice for its own sake, and that is because you are naturally +noble.” + +Turning her head a little, she threw him a smile so proud, yet so sweet, +that he was struck into silence. + +They tramped on quietly for some distance, and then he said, “Now you +understand the sort of man I am. Much brutality, more weakness, scant +pity for anyone—Oh, it has been a bloody journey!” + +She laid her hand on his arm. “I, for one, would not have it less +rugged.” + +“Nothing good can be said of my crimes.” + +“To me you seem like a lonely giant, searching for you know not what.... +The grandest that life holds.... You at least have no cause to look up +to women.” + +“Thanks, Sullenbode!” he responded, with a troubled smile. + +“When Maskull passes, let people watch. Everyone is thrown out of your +road. You go on, looking neither to right nor left.” + +“Take care that you are not thrown as well,” said Corpang gravely. + +“Maskull shall do with me whatever he pleases, old skull! And for +whatever he does, I will thank him.... In place of a heart you have a +bag of loose dust. Someone has described love to you. You have had it +described to you. You have heard that it is a small, fearful, selfish +joy. It is not that—it is wild, and scornful, and sportive, and +bloody.... How should you know.” + +“Selfishness has far too many disguises.” + +“If a woman wills to give up all, what can there be selfish in that?” + +“Only do not deceive yourself. Act decisively, or fate will be too swift +for you both.” + +Sullenbode studied him through her lashes. “Do you mean death—his death +as well as mine?” + +“You go too far, Corpang,” said Maskull, turning a shade darker. “I +don’t accept you as the arbiter of our fortunes.” + +“If honest counsel is disagreeable to you, let me go on ahead.” + +The woman detained him with her slow, light fingers. “I wish you to stay +with us.” + +“Why?” + +“I think you may know what you are talking about. I don’t wish to bring +harm to Maskull. Presently I’ll leave you.” + +“That will be best,” said Corpang. + +Maskull looked angry. “I shall decide—Sullenbode, whether you go on, or +back, I stay with you. My mind is made up.” + +An expression of joyousness overspread her face, in spite of her efforts +to conceal it. “Why do you scowl at me, Maskull?” + +He returned no answer, but continued walking onward with puckered brows. +After a dozen paces or so, he halted abruptly. “Wait, Sullenbode!” + +The others came to a standstill. Corpang looked puzzled, but the woman +smiled. Maskull, without a word, bent over and kissed her lips. Then he +relinquished her body, and turned around to Corpang. + +“How do you, in your great wisdom, interpret that kiss?” + +“It requires no great wisdom to interpret kisses, Maskull.” + +“Hereafter, never dare to come between us. Sullenbode belongs to me.” + +“Then I say no more; but you are a fated man.” + +From that time forward he spoke not another word to either of the +others. + +A heavy gleam appeared in the woman’s eyes. “Now things are changed, +Maskull. Where are you taking me?” + +“Choose, you.” + +“The man I love must complete his journey. I won’t have it otherwise. +You shall not stand lower than Corpang.” + +“Where you go, I will go.” + +“And I—as long as your love endures, I will accompany you—even to +Adage.” + +“Do you doubt its lasting?” + +“I wish not to.... Now I will tell you what I refused to tell you +before. The term of your love is the term of my life. When you love me +no longer, I must die.” + +“And why?” asked Maskull slowly. + +“Yes, that’s the responsibility you incurred when you kissed me for the +first time. I never meant to tell you.” + +“Do you mean that if I had gone on alone, you would have died?” + +“I have no other life but what you give me.” + +He gazed at her mournfully, without attempting to reply, and then slowly +placed his arms around her body. During this embrace he turned very +pale, but Sullenbode grew as white as chalk. + +A few minutes later the journey toward Adage was resumed. + +They had been walking for two hours. Teargeld was higher in the sky and +nearer the south. They had descended many hundred feet, and the +character of the ridge began to alter for the worse. The thin snow +disappeared, and gave way to moist, boggy ground. It was all little +grassy hillocks and marshes. They began to slip about and become +draggled with mud. Conversation ceased; Sullenbode led the way, and the +men followed in her tracks. The southern half of the landscape grew +grander. The greenish light of the brilliant moon, shining on the +multitude of snow-green peaks, caused it to appear like a spectral +world. Their nearest neighbour towered high above them on the other side +of the valley, due south, some five miles distant. It was a slender, +inaccessible, dizzy spire of black rock, the angles of which were too +steep to retain snow. A great upward-curving horn of rock sprang out +from its topmost pinnacle. For a long time it constituted their cheif +landmark. + +The whole ridge gradually became saturated with moisture. The surface +soil was spongy, and rested on impermeable rock; it breathed in the damp +mists by night, and breathed them out again by day, under Branchspell’s +rays. The walking grew first unpleasant, then difficult, and finally +dangerous. None of the party could distinguish firm ground from bog. +Sullenbode sank up to her waist in a pit of slime; Maskull rescued her, +but after this incident took the lead himself. Corpang was the next to +meet with trouble. Exploring a new path for himself, he tumbled into +liquid mud up to his shoulders, and narrowly escaped a filthy death. +After Maskull had got him out, at great personal risk, they proceeded +once more; but now the scramble changed from bad to worse. Each step had +to be thoroughly tested before weight was put upon it, and even so the +test frequently failed. All of them went in so often, that in the end +they no longer resembled human beings, but walking pillars plastered +from top to toe with black filth. The hardest work fell to Maskull. He +not only had the exhausting task of beating the way, but was continually +called upon to help his companions out of their difficulties. Without +him they could not have got through. + +After a peculiarly evil patch, they paused to recruit their strength. +Corpang’s breathing was difficult, Sullenbode was quiet, listless, and +depressed. + +Maskull gazed at them doubtfully. “Does this continue?” he inquired. + +“No. I think,” replied the woman, “we can’t be far from the Mornstab +Pass. After that we shall begin to climb again, and then the road will +improve perhaps.” + +“Can you have been here before?” + +“Once I have been to the Pass, but it was not so bad then.” + +“You are tired out, Sullenbode.” + +“What of it?” she replied, smiling faintly. “When one has a terrible +lover, one must pay the price.” + +“We cannot get there tonight, so let us stop at the first shelter we +come to.” + +“I leave it to you.” + +He paced up and down, while the others sat. “Do you regret anything?” he +demanded suddenly. + +“No, Maskull, nothing. I regret nothing.” + +“Your feelings are unchanged?” + +“Love can’t go back—it can only go on.” + +“Yes, eternally on. It is so.” + +“No, I don’t mean that. There is a climax, but when the climax has been +reached, love if it still wants to ascend must turn to sacrifice.” + +“That’s a dreadful creed,” he said in a low voice, turning pale beneath +his coating of mud. + +“Perhaps my nature is discordant.... I am tired. I don’t know what I +feel.” + +In a few minutes they were on their feet again, and the journey +recommenced. Within half an hour they had reached the Mornstab Pass. + +The ground here was drier; the broken land to the north served to drain +off the moisture of the soil. Sullenbode led them to the northern edge +of the ridge, to show them the nature of the country. The pass was +nothing but a gigantic landslip on both sides of the ridge, where it was +the lowest above the underlying land. A series of huge broken terraces +of earth and rock descended toward Barey. They were overgrown with +stunted vegetation. It was quite possible to get down to the lowlands +that way, but rather difficult. On either side of the landslip, to east +and west, the ridge came down in a long line of sheer, terrific cliffs. +A low haze concealed Barey from view. Complete stillness was in the air, +broken only by the distant thundering of an invisible waterfall. + +Maskull and Sullenbode sat down on a boulder, facing the open country. +The moon was directly behind them, high up. It was almost as light as an +Earth day. + +“Tonight is like life,” said Sullenbode. + +“How so?” + +“So lovely above and around us, so foul underfoot.” + +Maskull sighed. “Poor girl, you are unhappy.” + +“And you—are you happy?” + +He thought a while, and then replied—“No. No, I’m not happy. Love is not +happiness.” + +“What is it, Maskull?” + +“Restlessness—unshed tears—thoughts too grand for our soul to think...” + +“Yes,” said Sullenbode. + +After a time she asked, “Why were we created, just to live for a few +years and then disappear?” + +“We are told that we shall live again.” + +“Yes, Maskull?” + +“Perhaps in Muspel,” he added thoughtfully. + +“What kind of life will that be?” + +“Surely we shall meet again. Love is too wonderful and mysterious a +thing to remain uncompleted.” + +She gave a slight shiver, and turned away from him. “This dream is +untrue. Love is completed here.” + +“How can that be, when sooner or later it is brutally interrupted by +Fate?” + +“It is completed by anguish.... Oh, why must it always be enjoyment for +us? Can’t we suffer—can’t we go on suffering, forever and ever? Maskull, +until love crushes our spirit, finally and without remedy, we don’t +begin to feel ourselves.” + +Maskull gazed at her with a troubled expression. “Can the memory of love +be worth more than its presence and reality?” + +“You don’t understand. Those pangs are more precious than all the rest +beside.” She caught at him. “Oh, if you could only see inside my mind, +Maskull! You would see strange things.... I can’t explain. It is all +confused, even to myself.... This love is quite different from what I +thought.” + +He sighed again. “Love is a strong drink. Perhaps it is too strong for +human beings. And I think that it overturns our reason in different +ways.” + +They remained sitting side by side, staring straight before them with +unseeing eyes. + +“It doesn’t matter,” said Sullenbode at last, with a smile, getting up. +“Soon it will be ended, one way or another. Come, let us be off!” + +Maskull too got up. + +“Where’s Corpang?” he asked listlessly. + +They both looked across the ridge in the direction of Adage. At the +point where they stood it was nearly a mile wide. It sloped perceptibly +toward the southern edge, giving all the earth the appearance of a heavy +list. Toward the west the ground continued level for a thousand yards, +but then a high, sloping, grassy hill went right across the ridge from +side to side, like a vast billow on the verge of breaking. It shut out +all further view beyond. The whole crest of this hill, from one end to +the other, was crowned by a long row of enormous stone posts, shining +brightly in the moonlight against a background of dark sky. There were +about thirty in all, and they were placed at such regular intervals that +there was little doubt that they had been set there by human hands. Some +were perpendicular, but others dipped so much that an aspect of extreme +antiquity was given to the entire colonnade. Corpang was seen climbing +the hill, not far from the top. + +“He wishes to arrive,” said Maskull, watching the energetic ascent with +a rather cynical smile. + +“The heavens won’t open for Corpang,” returned Sullenbode. “He need not +be in such a hurry.... What do these pillars seem like to you?” + +“They might be the entrance to some mighty temple. Who can have planted +them there?” + +She did not answer. They watched Corpang gain the summit of the hill, +and disappear through the line of posts. + +Maskull turned again to Sullenbode. “Now we two are alone in a lonely +world.” + +She regarded him steadily. “Our last night on this earth must be a grand +one. I am ready to go on.” + +“I don’t think you are fit to go on. It will be better to go down the +pass a little, and find shelter.” + +She half smiled. “We won’t study our poor bodies tonight. I mean you to +go to Adage, Maskull.” + +“Then at all events let us rest first, for it must be a long, terrible +climb, and who knows what hardships we shall meet?” + +She walked a step or two forward, half turned, and held out her hand to +him. “Come, Maskull!” + +***** + +When they had covered half the distance that separated them from the +foot of the hill, Maskull heard the drum taps. They came from behind the +hill, and were loud, sharp, almost explosive. He glanced at Sullenbode, +but she appeared to hear nothing. A minute later the whole sky behind +and above the long chain of stone posts on the crest of the hill began +to be illuminated by a strange radiance. The moonlight in that quarter +faded; the posts stood out black on a background of fire. It was the +light of Muspel. As the moments passed, it grew more and more vivid, +peculiar, and awful. It was of no colour, and resembled nothing—it was +supernatural and indescribable. Maskull’s spirit swelled. He stood fast, +with expanded nostrils and terrible eyes. + +Sullenbode touched him lightly. + +“What do you see, Maskull?” + +“Muspel-light.” + +“I see nothing.” + +The light shot up, until Maskull scarcely knew where he stood. It burned +with a fiercer and stranger glare than ever before. He forgot the +existence of Sullenbode. The drum beats grew deafeningly loud. Each beat +was like a rip of startling thunder, crashing through the sky and making +the air tremble. Presently the crashes coalesced, and one continuous +roar of thunder rocked the world. But the rhythm persisted—the four +beats, with the third accented, still came pulsing through the +atmosphere, only now against a background of thunder, and not of +silence. + +Maskull’s heart beat wildly. His body was like a prison. He longed to +throw it off, to spring up and become incorporated with the sublime +universe which was beginning to unveil itself. + +Sullenbode suddenly enfolded him in her arms, and kissed +him—passionately, again and again. He made no response; he was unaware +of what she was doing. She unclasped him and, with bent head and +streaming eyes, went noiselessly away. She started to go back toward the +Mornstab Pass. + +A few minutes afterward the radiance began to fade. The thunder died +down. The moonlight reappeared, the stone posts and the hillside were +again bright. In a short time the supernatural light had entirely +vanished, but the drum taps still sounded faintly, a muffled rhythm, +from behind the hill. Maskull started violently, and stared around him +like a suddenly awakened sleeper. + +He saw Sullenbode walking slowly away from him, a few hundred yards off. +At that sight, death entered his heart. He ran after her, calling +out.... She did not look around. When he had lessened the distance +between them by a half, he saw her suddenly stumble and fall. She did +not get up again, but lay motionless where she fell. + +He flew toward her, and bent over her body. His worst fears were +realised. Life had departed. + +Beneath its coating of mud, her face bore the vulgar, ghastly Crystalman +grin, but Maskull saw nothing of it. She had never appeared so beautiful +to him as at that moment. + +***** + +He remained beside her for a long time, on his knees. He wept—but, +between his fits of weeping, he raised his head from time to time, and +listened to the distant drum beats. + +An hour passed—two hours. Teargeld was now in the south-west. Maskull +lifted Sullenbode’s dead body on to his shoulders, and started to walk +toward the Pass. He cared no more for Muspel. He intended to look for +water in which to wash the corpse of his beloved, and earth in which to +bury her. + +When he had reached the boulder overlooking the landslip, on which they +had sat together, he lowered his burden, and, placing the dead girl on +the stone, seated himself beside her for a time, gazing over toward +Barey. + +After that, he commenced his descent of the Mornstab Pass. + + + +Chapter 20. BAREY + +The day had already dawned, but it was not yet sunrise when Maskull +awoke from his miserable sleep. He sat up and yawned feebly. The air was +cool and sweet. Far away down the landslip a bird was singing; the song +consisted of only two notes, but it was so plaintive and heartbreaking +that he scarcely knew how to endure it. + +The eastern sky was a delicate green, crossed by a long, thin band of +chocolate-coloured cloud near the horizon. The atmosphere was blue- +tinted, mysterious, and hazy. Neither Sarclash nor Adage was visible. + +The saddle of the Pass was five hundred feet above him; he had descended +that distance overnight. The landslip continued downward, like a huge +flying staircase, to the upper slopes of Barey, which lay perhaps +fifteen hundred feet beneath. The surface of the Pass was rough, and the +angle was excessively steep, though not precipitous. It was above a mile +across. On each side of it, east and west, the dark walls of the ridge +descended sheer. At the point where the pass sprang outward they were +two thousand feet from top to bottom, but as the ridge went upward, on +the one hand toward Adage, on the other toward Sarclash, they attained +almost unbelievable heights. Despite the great breadth and solidity of +the pass, Maskull felt as though he were suspended in midair. + +The patch of broken, rich, brown soil observable not far away marked +Sullenbode’s grave. He had interred her by the light of the moon, with a +long, flat stone for a spade. A little lower down, the white steam of a +hot spring was curling about in the twilight. From where he sat he was +unable to see the pool into which the spring ultimately flowed, but it +was in that pool that he had last night washed first of all the dead +girl’s body, and then his own. + +He got up, yawned again, stretched himself, and looked around him dully. +For a long time he eyed the grave. The half-darkness changed by +imperceptible degrees to full day; the sun was about to appear. The sky +was nearly cloudless. The whole wonderful extent of the mighty ridge +behind him began to emerge from the morning mist... there was a part of +Sarclash, and the ice-green crest of gigantic Adage itself, which he +could only take in by throwing his head right back. + +He gazed at everything in weary apathy, like a lost soul. All his +desires were gone forever; he wished to go nowhere, and to do nothing. +He thought he would go to Barey. + +He went to the warm pool, to wash the sleep out of his eyes. Sitting +beside it, watching the bubbles, was Krag. + +Maskull thought that he was dreaming. The man was clothed in a skin +shirt and breeches. His face was stern, yellow, and ugly. He eyed +Maskull without smiling or getting up. + +“Where in the devil’s name have you come from, Krag?” + +“The great point is, I am here.” + +“Where’s Nightspore?” + +“Not far away.” + +“It seems a hundred years since I saw you. Why did you two leave me in +such a damnable fashion?” + +“You were strong enough to get through alone.” + +“So it turned out, but how were you to know?.... Anyway, you’ve timed it +well. It seems I am to die today.” + +Krag scowled. “You will die this morning.” + +“If I am to, I shall. But where have you heard it from?” + +“You are ripe for it. You have run through the gamut. What else is there +to live for?” + +“Nothing,” said Maskull, uttering a short laugh. “I am quite ready. I +have failed in everything. I only wondered how you knew.... So now +you’ve come to rejoin me. Where are we going?” + +“Through Barey.” + +“And what about Nightspore?” + +Krag jumped to his feet with clumsy agility. “We won’t wait for him. +He’ll be there as soon as we shall.” + +“Where?” + +“At our destination.... Come! The sun’s rising.” + +***** + +As they started clambering down the pass side by side, Branchspell, huge +and white, leaped fiercely into the sky. All the delicacy of the dawn +vanished, and another vulgar day began. They passed some trees and +plants, the leaves of which were all curled up, as if in sleep. + +Maskull pointed them out to his companion. + +“How is it the sunshine doesn’t open them?” + +“Branchspell is a second night to them. Their day is Alppain.” + +“How long will it be before that sun rises?” + +“Some time yet.” + +“Shall I live to see it, do you think?” + +“Do you want to?” + +“At one time I did, but now I’m indifferent.” + +“Keep in that humour, and you’ll do well. Once for all, there’s nothing +worth seeing on Tormance.” + +After a few minutes Maskull said, “Why did we come here, then?” + +“To follow Surtur.” + +“True. But where is he?” + +“Closer at hand than you think, perhaps.” + +“Do you know that he is regarded as a god here, Krag?... There is +supernatural fire, too, which I have been led to believe is somehow +connected with him.... Why do you keep up the mystery? Who and what is +Surtur?” + +“Don’t disturb yourself about that. You will never know.” + +“Do you know?” + +“I know,” snarled Krag. + +“The devil here is called Krag,” went on Maskull, peering into his face. + +“As long as pleasure is worshiped, Krag will always be the devil.” + +“Here we are, talking face to face, two men together.... What am I to +believe of you?” + +“Believe your senses. The real devil is Crystalman.” + +They continued descending the landslip. The sun’s rays had grown +insufferably hot. In front of them, down below in the far distance, +Maskull saw water and land intermingled. It appeared that they were +travelling toward a lake district. + +“What have you and Nightspore been doing during the last four days, +Krag? What happened to the torpedo?” + +“You’re just about on the same mental level as a man who sees a brand- +new palace, and asks what has become of the scaffolding.” + +“What palace have you been building, then?” + +“We have not been idle,” said Krag. “While you have been murdering and +lovemaking, we have had our work.” + +“And how have you been made acquainted with my actions?” + +“Oh, you’re an open book. Now you’ve got a mortal heart wound on account +of a woman you knew for six hours.” + +Maskull turned pale. “Sneer away, Krag! If you lived with a woman for +six hundred years and saw her die, that would never touch your leather +heart. You haven’t even the feelings of an insect.” + +“Behold the child defending its toys!” said Krag, grinning faintly. + +Maskull stopped short. “What do you want with me, and why did you bring +me here?” + +“It’s no use stopping, even for the sake of theatrical effect,” said +Krag, pulling him into motion again. “The distance has got to be +covered, however often we pull up.” + +When he touched him, Maskull felt a terrible shooting pain through his +heart. + +“I can’t go on regarding you as a man, Krag. You’re something more than +a man—whether good or evil, I can’t say.” + +Krag looked yellow and formidable. He did not reply to Maskull’s remark, +but after a pause said, “So you’ve been trying to find Surtur on your +own account, during the intervals between killing and fondling?” + +“What was that drumming?” demanded Maskull. + +“You needn’t look so important. We know you had your ear to the keyhole. +But you could join the assembly, the music was not playing for you, my +friend.” + +Maskull smiled rather bitterly. “At all events, I listen through no more +keyholes. I have finished with life. I belong to nobody and nothing any +more, from this time forward.” + +“Brave words, brave words! We shall see. Perhaps Crystalman will make +one more attempt on you. There is still time for one more.” + +“Now I don’t understand you.” + +“You think you are thoroughly disillusioned, don’t you? Well, that may +prove to be the last and strongest illusion of all.” + +The conversation ceased. They reached the foot of the landslip an hour +later. Branchspell was steadily mounting the cloudless sky. It was +approaching Sarclash, and it was an open question whether or not it +would clear its peak. The heat was sweltering. The long, massive, +saucer-shaped ridge behind them, with its terrific precipices, was +glowing with bright morning colours. Adage, towering up many thousands +of feet higher still, guarded the end of it like a lonely Colossus. In +front of them, starting from where they stood, was a cool and enchanting +wilderness of little lakes and forests. The water of the lakes was dark +green; the forests were asleep, waiting for the rising of Alppain. + +“Are we now in Barey?” asked Maskull. + +“Yes—and there is one of the natives.” + +There was an ugly glint in his eye as he spoke the words, but Maskull +did not see it. + +A man was leaning in the shade against one of the first trees, +apparently waiting for them to come up. He was small, dark, and +beardless, and was still in early manhood. He was clothed in a dark +blue, loosely flowing robe, and wore a broad-brimmed slouch hat. His +face, which was not disfigured by any special organs, was pale, earnest, +and grave, yet somehow remarkably pleasing. + +Before a word was spoken, he warmly grasped Maskull’s hand, but even +while he was in the act of doing so he threw a queer frown at Krag. The +latter responded with a scowling grin. + +When he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was a vibrating baritone, +but it was at the same time strangely womanish in its modulations and +variety of tone. + +“I’ve been waiting for you here since sunrise,” he said. “Welcome to +Barey, Maskull! Let’s hope you’ll forget your sorrows here, you over- +tested man.” + +Maskull stared at him, not without friendliness. “What made you expect +me, and how do you know my name?” + +The stranger smiled, which made his face very handsome. “I’m Gangnet. I +know most things.” + +“Haven’t you a greeting for me too—Gangnet?” asked Krag, thrusting his +forbidding features almost into the other’s face. + +“I know you, Krag. There are few places where you are welcome.” + +“And I know you, Gangnet—you man-woman.... Well, we are here together, +and you must make what you can of it. We are going down to the Ocean.” + +The smile faded from Gangnet’s face. “I can’t drive you away, Krag—but I +can make you the unwelcome third.” + +Krag threw back his head, and gave a loud, grating laugh. “That bargain +suits me all right. As long as I have the substance, you may have the +shadow, and much good may it do you.” + +“Now that it’s all arranged so satisfactorily,” said Maskull, with a +hard smile, “permit me to say that I don’t desire any society at all at +present.... You take too much for granted, Krag. You have played the +false friend once already.... I presume I’m a free agent?” + +“To be a free man, one must have a universe of one’s own,” said Krag, +with a jeering look. “What do you say, Gangnet—is this a free world?” + +“Freedom from pain and ugliness should be every man’s privilege,” +returned Gangnet tranquilly. “Maskull is quite within his rights, and if +you’ll engage to leave him I’ll do the same.” + +“Maskull can change face as often as he likes, but he won’t get rid of +me so easily. Be easy on that point, Maskull.” + +“It doesn’t matter,” muttered Maskull. “Let everyone join in the +procession. In a few hours I shall finally be free, anyhow, if what they +say is true.” + +“I’ll lead the way,” said Gangnet. “You don’t know this country, of +course, Maskull. When we get to the flat lands some miles farther down, +we shall be able to travel by water, but at present we must walk, I +fear.” + +“Yes, you fear—you fear!” broke out Krag, in a highpitched, scraping +voice. “You eternal loller!” + +Maskull kept looking from one to the other in amazement. There seemed to +be a determined hostility between the two, which indicated an intimate +previous acquaintance. + +They set off through a wood, keeping close to its border, so that for a +mile or more they were within sight of the long, narrow lake that flowed +beside it. The trees were low and thin; their dolm-coloured leaves were +all folded. There was no underbrush—they walked on clean, brown earth, A +distant waterfall sounded. They were in shade, but the air was +pleasantly warm. There were no insects to irritate them. The bright lake +outside looked cool and poetic. + +Gangnet pressed Maskull’s arm affectionately. “If the bringing of you +from your world had fallen to me, Maskull, it is here I would have +brought you, and not to the scarlet desert. Then you would have escaped +the dark spots, and Tormance would have appeared beautiful to you.” + +“And what then, Gangnet? The dark spots would have existed all the +same.” + +“You could have seen them afterward. It makes all the difference whether +one sees darkness through the light, or brightness through the shadows.” + +“A clear eye is the best. Tormance is an ugly world, and I greatly +prefer to know it as it really is.” + +“The devil made it ugly, not Crystalman. These are Crystalman’s +thoughts, which you see around you. He is nothing but Beauty and +Pleasantness. Even Krag won’t have the effrontery to deny that.” + +“It’s very nice here,” said Krag, looking around him malignantly. “One +only wants a cushion and half a dozen houris to complete it.” + +Maskull disengaged himself from Gangnet. “Last night, when I was +struggling through the mud in the ghastly moonlight—then I thought the +world beautiful.” + +“Poor Sullenbode!” said Gangnet, sighing. + +“What! You knew her?” + +“I know her through you. By mourning for a noble woman, you show your +own nobility. I think all women are noble.” + +“There may be millions of noble women, but there’s only one Sullenbode.” + +“If Sullenbode can exist,” said Gangnet, “the world cannot be a bad +place.” + +“Change the subject.... The world’s hard and cruel, and I am thankful to +be leaving it.” + +“On one point, though, you both agree,” said Krag, smiling evilly. +“Pleasure is good, and the cessation of pleasure is bad.” + +Gangnet glanced at him coldly. “We know your peculiar theories, Krag. +You are very fond of them, but they are unworkable. The world could not +go on being, without pleasure.” + +“So Gangnet thinks!” jeered Krag. + +They came to the end of the wood, and found themselves overlooking a +little cliff. At the foot of it, about fifty feet below, a fresh series +of lakes and forests commenced. Barey appeared to be one big mountain +slope, built by nature into terraces. The lake along whose border they +had been travelling was not banked at the end, but overflowed to the +lower level in half a dozen beautiful, threadlike falls, white and +throwing off spray. The cliff was not perpendicular, and the men found +it easy to negotiate. + +At the base they entered another wood. Here it was much denser, and they +had nothing but trees all around them. A clear brook rippled through the +heart of it; they followed its bank. + +“It has occurred to me,” said Maskull, addressing Gangnet, “that Alppain +may be my death. Is that so?” + +“These trees don’t fear Alppain, so why should you? Alppain is a +wonderful, life-bringing sun.” + +“The reason I ask is—I’ve seen its afterglow, and it produced such +violent sensations that a very little more would have proved too much.” + +“Because the forces were evenly balanced. When you see Alppain itself, +it will reign supreme, and there will be no more struggling of wills +inside you.” + +“And that, I may tell you beforehand, Maskull,” said Krag, grinning, “is +Crystalman’s trump card.” + +“How do you mean?” + +“You’ll see. You’ll renounce the world so eagerly that you’ll want to +stay in the world merely to enjoy your sensations.” + +Gangnet smiled. “Krag, you see, is hard to please. You must neither +enjoy, nor renounce. What are you to do?” + +Maskull turned toward Krag. “It’s very odd, but I don’t understand your +creed even yet. Are you recommending suicide?” + +Krag seemed to grow sallower and more repulsive every minute. “What, +because they have left off stroking you?” he exclaimed, laughing and +showing his discoloured teeth. + +“Whoever you are, and whatever you want,” said Maskull, “you seem very +certain of yourself.” + +“Yes, you would like me to blush and stammer like a booby, wouldn’t you! +That would be an excellent way of destroying lies.” + +Gangnet glanced toward the foot of one of the trees. He stooped and +picked up two or three objects that resembled eggs. + +“To eat?” asked Maskull, accepting the offered gift. + +“Yes, eat them; you must be hungry. I want none myself, and one mustn’t +insult Krag by offering him a pleasure—especially such a low pleasure.” + +Maskull knocked the ends off two of the eggs, and swallowed the liquid +contents. They tasted rather alcoholic. Krag snatched the remaining egg +out of his hand and flung it against a tree trunk, where it broke and +stuck, a splash of slime. + +“I don’t wait to be asked, Gangnet.... Say, is there a filthier sight +than a smashed pleasure?” + +Gangnet did not reply, but took Maskull’s arm. + +After they had alternately walked through forests and descended cliffs +and slopes for upward of two hours, the landscape altered. A steep +mountainside commenced and continued for at least a couple of miles, +during which space the land must have dropped nearly four thousand feet, +at a practically uniform gradient. Maskull had seen nothing like this +immense slide of country anywhere. The hill slope carried an enormous +forest on its back. This forest, however, was different from those they +had hitherto passed through. The leaves of the trees were curled in +sleep, but the boughs were so close and numerous that, but for the fact +that they were translucent, the rays of the sun would have been +completely intercepted. As it was, the whole forest was flooded with +light, and this light, being tinged with the colour of the branches, was +a soft and lovely rose. So gay, feminine, and dawnlike was the +illumination, that Maskull’s spirits immediately started to rise, +although he did not wish it. + +He checked himself, sighed, and grew pensive. + +“What a place for languishing eyes and necks of ivory, Maskull!” rasped +Krag mockingly. “Why isn’t Sullenbode here?” + +Maskull gripped him roughly and flung him against the nearest tree. Krag +recovered himself, and burst into a roaring laugh, seeming not a whit +discomposed. + +“Still what I said—was it true or untrue?” + +Maskull gazed at him sternly. “You seem to regard yourself as a +necessary evil. I’m under no obligation to go on with you any farther. I +think we had better part.” + +Krag turned to Gangnet with an air of grotesque mock earnestness. + +“What do you say—do we part when Maskull pleases, or when I please?” + +“Keep your temper, Maskull,” said Gangnet, showing Krag his back. “I +know the man better than you do. Now that he has fastened onto you +there’s only one way of making him lose his hold, by ignoring him. +Despise him—say nothing to him, don’t answer his questions. If you +refuse to recognise his existence, he is as good as not here.” + +“I’m beginning to be tired of it all,” said Maskull. “It seems as if I +shall add one more to my murders, before I have finished.” + +“I smell murder in the air,” exclaimed Krag, pretending to sniff. “But +whose?” + +“Do as I say, Maskull. To bandy words with him is to throw oil on fire.” + +“I’ll say no more to anyone.... When do we get out of this accursed +forest?” + +“It’s some way yet, but when we’re once out we can take to the water, +and you will be able to rest, and think.” + +“And brood comfortably over your sufferings,” added Krag. + +None of the three men said anything more until they emerged into the +open day. The slope of the forest was so steep that they were forced to +run, rather than walk, and this would have prevented any conversation, +even if they had otherwise felt inclined toward it. In less than half an +hour they were through. A flat, open landscape lay stretched in front of +them as far as they could see. + +Three parts of this country consisted of smooth water. It was a +succession of large, low-shored lakes, divided by narrow strips of tree- +covered land. The lake immediately before them had its small end to the +forest. It was there about a third of a mile wide. The water at the +sides and end was shallow, and choked with dolm-colored rushes; but in +the middle, beginning a few yards from the shore, there was a +perceptible current away from them. In view of this current, it was +difficult to decide whether it was a lake or a river. Some little +floating islands were in the shallows. + +“Is it here that we take to the water?” inquired Maskull. + +“Yes, here,” answered Gangnet. + +“But how?” + +“One of those islands will serve. It only needs to move it into the +stream.” + +Maskull frowned. “Where will it carry us to?” + +“Come, get on, get on!” said Krag, laughing uncouthly. “The morning’s +wearing away, and you have to die before noon. We are going to the +Ocean.” + +“If you are omniscient, Krag, what is my death to be?” + +“Gangnet will murder you.” + +“You lie!” said Gangnet. “I wish Maskull nothing but good.” + +“At all events, he will be the cause of your death. But what does it +matter? The great point is you are quitting this futile world.... Well, +Gangnet, I see you’re as slack as ever. I suppose I must do the work.” + +He jumped into the lake and began to run through the shallow water, +splashing it about. When he came to the nearest island, the water was up +to his thighs. The island was lozenge-shaped, and about fifteen feet +from end to end. It was composed of a sort of light brown peat; there +was no form of living vegetation on its surface. Krag went behind it, +and started shoving it toward the current, apparently without having +unduly to exert himself. When it was within the influence of the stream +the others waded out to him, and all three climbed on. + +The voyage began. The current was not travelling at more than two miles +an hour. The sun glared down on their heads mercilessly, and there was +no shade or prospect of shade. Maskull sat down near the edge, and +periodically splashed water over his head. Gangnet sat on his haunches +next to him. Krag paced up and down with short, quick steps, like an +animal in a cage. The lake widened out more and more, and the width of +the stream increased in proportion, until they seemed to themselves to +be floating on the bosom of some broad, flowing estuary. + +Krag suddenly bent over and snatched off Gangnet’s hat, crushing it +together in his hairy fist and throwing it far out into the stream. + +“Why should you disguise yourself like a woman?” he asked with a harsh +guffaw—“Show Maskull your face. Perhaps he has seen it somewhere.” + +Gangnet did remind Maskull of someone, but he could not say of whom. His +dark hair curled down to his neck, his brow was wide, lofty, and noble, +and there was an air of serious sweetness about the whole man that was +strangely appealing to the feelings. + +“Let Maskull judge,” he said with proud composure, “whether I have +anything to be ashamed of.” + +“There can be nothing but magnificent thoughts in that head,” muttered +Maskull, staring hard at him. + +“A capital valuation. Gangnet is the king of poets. But what happens +when poets try to carry through practical enterprises?” + +“What enterprises?” asked Maskull, in astonishment. + +“What have you got on hand, Gangnet? Tell Maskull.” + +“There are two forms of practical activity,” replied Gangnet calmly. +“One may either build up, or destroy.” + +“No, there’s a third species. One may steal—and not even know one is +stealing. One may take the purse and leave the money.” + +Maskull raised his eyebrows. “Where have you two met before?” + +“I’m paying Gangnet a visit today, Maskull, but once upon a time Gangnet +paid me a visit.” + +“Where?” + +“In my home—whatever that is. Gangnet is a common thief.” + +“You are speaking in riddles, and I don’t understand you. I don’t know +either of you, but it’s clear that if Gangnet is a poet, you’re a +buffoon. Must you go on talking? I want to be quiet.” + +Krag laughed, but said no more. Presently he lay down at full length, +with his face to the sun, and in a few minutes was fast asleep, and +snoring disagreeably. Maskull kept glancing over at his yellow, +repulsive face with strong disfavour. + +Two hours passed. The land on either side was more than a mile distant. +In front of them there was no land at all. Behind them, the Lichstorm +Mountains were blotted out from view by a haze that had gathered +together. The sky ahead, just above the horizon, began to be of a +strange colour. It was an intense jale-blue. The whole northern +atmosphere was stained with ulfire. + +Maskull’s mind grew disturbed. “Alppain is rising, Gangnet.” + +Gangnet smiled wistfully. “It begins to trouble you?” + +“It is so solemn—tragical, almost—yet it recalls me to Earth. Life was +no longer important—but this is important.” + +“Daylight is night to this other daylight. Within half an hour you will +be like a man who has stepped from a dark forest into the open day. Then +you will ask yourself how you could have been blind.” + +The two men went on watching the blue sunrise. The entire sky in the +north, halfway up to the zenith, was streaked with extraordinary +colours, among which jale and dolm predominated. Just as the principal +character of an ordinary dawn is mystery, the outstanding character of +this dawn was wildness. It did not baffle the understanding, but the +heart. Maskull felt no inarticulate craving to seize and perpetuate the +sunrise, and make it his own. Instead of that, it agitated and tormented +him, like the opening bars of a supernatural symphony. + +When he looked back to the south, Branchspell’s day had lost its glare, +and he could gaze at the immense white sun without flinching. He +instinctively turned to the north again, as one turns from darkness to +light. + +“If those were Crystalman’s thoughts that you showed me before, Gangnet, +these must be his feelings. I mean it literally. What I am feeling now, +he must have felt before me.” + +“He is all feeling, Maskull—don’t you understand that?” + +Maskull was feeding greedily on the spectacle before him; he did not +reply. His face was set like a rock, but his eyes were dim with the +beginning of tears. The sky blazed deeper and deeper; it was obvious +that Alppain was about to lift itself above the sea. The island had by +this time floated past the mouth of the estuary. On three sides they +were surrounded by water. The haze crept up behind them and shut out all +sight of land. Krag was still sleeping—an ugly, wrinkled monstrosity. + +Maskull looked over the side at the flowing water. It had lost its dark +green colour, and was now of a perfect crystal transparency. + +“Are we already on the Ocean, Gangnet?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then nothing remains except my death.” + +“Don’t think of death, but life.” + +“It’s growing brighter—at the same time, more sombre. Krag seems to be +fading away....” + +“There is Alppain!” said Gangnet, touching his arm. + +The deep, glowing disk of the blue sun peeped above the sea. Maskull was +struck to silence. He was hardly so much looking, as feeling. His +emotions were unutterable. His soul seemed too strong for his body. The +great blue orb rose rapidly out of the water, like an awful eye watching +him.... it shot above the sea with a bound, and Alppain’s day commenced. + +“What do you feel?” Gangnet still held his arm. + +“I have set myself against the Infinite,” muttered Maskull. + +Suddenly his chaos of passions sprang together, and a wonderful idea +swept through his whole being, accompanied by the intensest joy. + +“Why, Gangnet—I am nothing.” + +“No, you are nothing.” + +The mist closed in all around them. Nothing was visible except the two +suns, and a few feet of sea. The shadows of the three men cast by +Alppain were not black, but were composed of white daylight. + +“Then nothing can hurt me,” said Maskull with a peculiar smile. + +Gangnet smiled too. “How could it?” + +“I have lost my will; I feel as if some foul tumour had been scraped +away, leaving me clean and free.” + +“Do you now understand life, Maskull?” + +Gangnet’s face was transfigured with an extraordinary spiritual beauty; +he looked as if he had descended from heaven. + +“I understand nothing, except that I have no self any more. But this is +life.” + +“Is Gangnet expatiating on his famous blue sun?” said a jeering voice +above them. Looking up, they saw that Krag had got to his feet. + +They both rose. At the same moment the gathering mist began to obscure +Alppain’s disk, changing it from blue to a vivid jale. + +“What do you want with us, Krag?” asked Maskull with simple composure. + +Krag looked at him strangely for a few seconds. The water lapped around +them. + +“Don’t you comprehend, Maskull, that your death has arrived?” + +Maskull made no response. Krag rested an arm lightly on his shoulder, +and suddenly he felt sick and faint. He sank to the ground, near the +edge of the island raft. His heart was thumping heavily and queerly; its +beating reminded him of the drum taps. He gazed languidly at the +rippling water, and it seemed to him as if he could see right through +it... away, away down... to a strange fire.... + +The water disappeared. The two suns were extinguished. The island was +transformed into a cloud, and Maskull—alone on it—was floating through +the atmosphere.... Down below, it was all fire—the fire of Muspel. The +light mounted higher and higher, until it filled the whole world.... + +He floated toward an immense perpendicular cliff of black rock, without +top or bottom. Halfway up it Krag, suspended in midair, was dealing +terrific blows at a blood-red spot with a huge hammer. The rhythmical, +clanging sounds were hideous. + +Presently Maskull made out that these sounds were the familiar drum +beats. “What are you doing, Krag?” he asked. + +Krag suspended his work, and turned around. + +“Beating on your heart, Maskull,” was his grinning response. + +***** + +The cliff and Krag vanished. Maskull saw Gangnet struggling in the +air—but it was not Gangnet—it was Crystalman. He seemed to be trying to +escape from the Muspel-fire, which kept surrounding and licking him, +whichever way he turned. He was screaming.... The fire caught him. He +shrieked horribly. Maskull caught one glimpse of a vulgar, slobbering +face—and then that too disappeared. + +***** + +He opened his eyes. The floating island was still faintly illuminated by +Alppain. Krag was standing by his side, but Gangnet was no longer there. + +“What is this Ocean called?” asked Maskull, bringing out the words with +difficulty. + +“Surtur’s Ocean.” + +Maskull nodded, and kept quiet for some time. He rested his face on his +arm. “Where’s Nightspore?” he asked suddenly. + +Krag bent over him with a grave expression. “You are Nightspore.” + +The dying man closed his eyes, and smiled. + +Opening them again, a few moments later, with an effort, he murmured, +“Who are you?” + +Krag maintained a gloomy silence. + +Shortly afterward a frightful pang passed through Maskull’s heart, and +he died immediately. + +Krag turned his head around. “The night is really past at last, +Nightspore.... The day is here.” + +Nightspore gazed long and earnestly at Maskull’s body. “Why was all this +necessary?” + +“Ask Crystalman,” replied Krag sternly. “His world is no joke. He has a +strong clutch—but I have a stronger... Maskull was his, but Nightspore +is mine.” + + + +Chapter 21. MUSPEL + +The fog thickened so that the two suns wholly disappeared, and all grew +as black as night. Nightspore could no longer see his companion. The +water lapped gently against the side of the island raft. + +“You say the night is past,” said Nightspore. “But the night is still +here. Am I dead, or alive?” + +“You are still in Crystalman’s world, but you belong to it no more. We +are approaching Muspel.” + +Nightspore felt a strong, silent throbbing of the air—a rhythmical +pulsation, in four-four time. “There is the drumming,” he exclaimed. + +“Do you understand it, or have you forgotten?” + +“I half understand it, but I’m all confused.” + +“It’s evident Crystalman has dug his claws into you pretty deeply,” said +Krag. “The sound comes from Muspel, but the rhythm is caused by its +travelling through Crystalman’s atmosphere. His nature is rhythm as he +loves to call it—or dull, deadly repetition, as I name it.” + +“I remember,” said Nightspore, biting his nails in the dark. + +The throbbing became audible; it now sounded like a distant drum. A +small patch of strange light in the far distance, straight ahead of +them, began faintly to illuminate the floating island and the glassy sea +around it. + +“Do all men escape from that ghastly world, or only I, and a few like +me?” asked Nightspore. + +“If all escaped, I shouldn’t sweat, my friend... There’s hard work, and +anguish, and the risk of total death, waiting for us yonder.” + +Nightspore’s heart sank. “Have I not yet finished, then?” + +“If you wish it. You have got through. But will you wish it?” + +The drumming grew loud and painful. The light resolved itself into a +tiny oblong of mysterious brightness in a huge wall of night. Krag’s +grim and rocklike features were revealed. + +“I can’t face rebirth,” said Nightspore. “The horror of death is nothing +to it.” + +“You will choose.” + +“I can do nothing. Crystalman is too powerful. I barely escaped with my +own soul.” + +“You are still stupid with Earth fumes, and see nothing straight,” said +Krag. + +Nightspore made no reply, but seemed to be trying to recall something. +The water around them was so still, colourless, and transparent, that +they scarcely seemed to be borne up by liquid matter at all. Maskull’s +corpse had disappeared. + +The drumming was now like the clanging of iron. The oblong patch of +light grew much bigger; it burned, fierce and wild. The darkness above, +below, and on either side of it, began to shape itself into the +semblance of a huge, black wall, without bounds. + +“Is that really a wall we are coming to?” + +“You will soon find out. What you see is Muspel, and that light is the +gate you have to enter.” + +Nightspore’s heart beat wildly. + +“Shall I remember?” he muttered. + +“Yes, you’ll remember.” + +“Accompany me, Krag, or I shall be lost.” + +“There is nothing for me to do in there. I shall wait outside for you.” + +“You are returning to the struggle?” demanded Nightspore, gnawing his +fingertips. + +“Yes.” + +“I dare not.” + +The thunderous clangor of the rhythmical beats struck on his head like +actual blows. The light glared so vividly that he was no longer able to +look at it. It had the startling irregularity of continuous lightning, +but it possessed this further peculiarity—that it seemed somehow to give +out not actual light, but emotion, seen as light. They continued to +approach the wall of darkness, straight toward the door. The glasslike +water flowed right against it, its surface reaching up almost to the +threshold. + +They could not speak any more; the noise was too deafening. + +In a few minutes they were before the gateway. Nightspore turned his +back and hid his eyes in his two hands, but even then he was blinded by +the light. So passionate were his feelings that his body seemed to +enlarge itself. At every frightful beat of sound, he quivered violently. + +The entrance was doorless. Krag jumped onto the rocky platform and +pulled Nightspore after him. + +Once through the gateway, the light vanished. The rhythmical sound—blows +totally ceased. Nightspore dropped his hands.... All was dark and quiet +as an opened tomb. But the air was filled with grim, burning passion, +which was to light and sound what light itself is to opaque colour. + +Nightspore pressed his hand to his heart. “I don’t know if I can endure +it,” he said, looking toward Krag. He felt his person far more vividly +and distinctly than if he had been able to see him. + +“Go in, and lose no time, Nightspore.... Time here is more precious than +on earth. We can’t squander the minutes. There are terrible and tragic +affairs to attend to, which won’t wait for us... Go in at once. Stop for +nothing.” + +“Where shall I go to?” muttered Nightspore. “I have forgotten +everything.” + +“Enter, enter! There is only one way. You can’t mistake it.” + +“Why do you bid me go in, if I am to come out again?” + +“To have your wounds healed.” + +Almost before the words had left his mouth, Krag sprang back on to the +island raft. Nightspore involuntarily started after him, but at once +recovered himself and remained standing where he was. Krag was +completely invisible; everything outside was black night. + +The moment he had gone, a feeling shot up in Nightspore’s heart like a +thousand trumpets. + +***** + +Straight in front of him, almost at his feet, was the lower end of a +steep, narrow, circular flight of stone steps. There was no other way +forward. + +He put his foot on the bottom stair, at the same time peering aloft. He +saw nothing, yet as he proceeded upward every inch of the way was +perceptible to his inner feelings. The staircase was cold, dismal, and +deserted, but it seemed to him, in his exaltation of soul, like a ladder +to heaven. + +After he had mounted a dozen steps or so, he paused to take breath. Each +step was increasingly difficult to ascend; he felt as though he were +carrying a heavy man on his shoulders. It struck a familiar chord in his +mind. He went on and, ten stairs higher up, came to a window set in a +high embrasure. + +On to this he clambered, and looked through. The window was of a sort of +glass, but he could see nothing. Coming to him, however, from the world +outside, a disturbance of the atmosphere struck his senses, causing his +blood to run cold. At one moment it resembled a low, mocking, vulgar +laugh, travelling from the ends of the earth; at the next it was like a +rhythmical vibration of the air—the silent, continuous throbbing of some +mighty engine. The two sensations were identical, yet different. They +seemed to be related in the same manner as soul and body. After feeling +them for a long time, Nightspore got down from the embrasure, and +continued his ascent, having meanwhile grown very serious. + +The climbing became still more laborious, and he was forced to stop at +every third or fourth step, to rest his muscles and regain breath. When +he had mounted another twenty stairs in this way, he came to a second +window. Again he saw nothing. The laughing disturbance of the air, too, +had ceased; but the atmospheric throb was now twice as distinct as +before, and its rhythm had become _double_. There were two separate +pulses; one was in the time of a march, the other in the time of a +waltz. The first was bitter and petrifying to feel, but the second was +gay, enervating, and horrible. + +Nightspore spent little time at that window, for he felt that he was on +the eve of a great discovery, and that something far more important +awaited him higher up. He proceeded aloft. The ascent grew more and more +exhausting, so much so that he had frequently to sit down, utterly +crushed by his own dead weight. Still, he got to the third window. + +He climbed into the embrasure. His feelings translated themselves into +vision, and he saw a sight that caused him to turn pale. A gigantic, +self-luminous sphere was hanging in the sky, occupying nearly the whole +of it. This sphere was composed entirely of two kinds of active beings. +There were a myriad of tiny green corpuscles, varying in size from the +very small to the almost indiscernible. They were not green, but he +somehow saw them so. They were all striving in one direction—toward +himself, toward Muspel, but were too feeble and miniature to make any +headway. Their action produced the marching rhythm he had previously +felt, but this rhythm was not intrinsic in the corpuscles themselves, +but was a consequence of the obstruction they met with. And, surrounding +these atoms of life and light, were far larger whirls of white light +that gyrated hither and thither, carrying the green corpuscles with them +wherever they desired. Their whirling motion was accompanied by the +waltzing rhythm. It seemed to Nightspore that the green atoms were not +only being danced about against their will but were suffering +excruciating shame and degradation in consequence. The larger ones were +steadier than the extremely small, a few were even almost stationary, +and one was advancing in the direction it wished to go. + +He turned his back to the window, buried his face in his hands, and +searched in the dim recesses of his memory for an explanation of what he +had just seen. Nothing came straight, but horror and wrath began to take +possession of him. + +On his way upward to the next window, invisible fingers seemed to him to +be squeezing his heart and twisting it about here and there; but he +never dreamed of turning back. His mood was so grim that he did not once +permit himself to pause. Such was his physical distress by the time that +he had clambered into the recess, that for several minutes he could see +nothing at all—the world seemed to be spinning round him rapidly. + +When at last he looked, he saw the same sphere as before, but now all +was changed on it. It was a world of rocks, minerals, water, plants, +animals, and men. He saw the whole world at one view, yet everything was +so magnified that he could distinguish the smallest details of life. In +the interior of every individual, of every aggregate of individuals, of +every chemical atom, he clearly perceived the presence of the green +corpuscles. But, according to the degree of dignity of the life form, +they were fragmentary or comparatively large. In the crystal, for +example, the green, imprisoned life was so minute as to be scarcely +visible; in some men it was hardly bigger; but in other men and women it +was twenty or a hundred times greater. But, great or small, it played an +important part in every individual. It appeared as if the whirls of +white light, which were the individuals, and plainly showed themselves +beneath the enveloping bodies, were delighted with existence and wished +only to enjoy it, but the green corpuscles were in a condition of +eternal discontent, yet, blind and not knowing which way to turn for +liberation, kept changing form, as though breaking a new path, by way of +experiment. Whenever the old grotesque became metamorphosed into the new +grotesque, it was in every case the direct work of the green atoms, +trying to escape toward Muspel, but encountering immediate opposition. +These subdivided sparks of living, fiery spirit were hopelessly +imprisoned in a ghastly mush of soft pleasure. They were being +effeminated and corrupted—that is to say, absorbed in the foul, sickly +enveloping forms. + +Nightspore felt a sickening shame in his soul as he looked on at that +spectacle. His exaltation had long since vanished. He bit his nails, and +understood why Krag was waiting for him below. + +He mounted slowly to the fifth window. The pressure of air against him +was as strong as a full gale, divested of violence and irregularity, so +that he was not for an instant suffered to relax his efforts. +Nevertheless, not a breath stirred. + +Looking through the window, he was startled by a new sight. The sphere +was still there, but between it and the Muspel-world in which he was +standing he perceived a dim, vast shadow, without any distinguishable +shape, but somehow throwing out a scent of disgusting sweetness. +Nightspore knew that it was Crystalman. A flood of fierce light—but it +was not light, but passion—was streaming all the time from Muspel to the +Shadow, and through it. When, however, it emerged on the other side, +which was the sphere, the light was altered in character. It became +split, as by a prism, into the two forms of life which he had previously +seen—the green corpuscles and the whirls. What had been fiery spirit but +a moment ago was now a disgusting mass of crawling, wriggling +individuals, each whirl of pleasure-seeking will having, as nucleus, a +fragmentary spark of living green fire. Nightspore recollected the back +rays of Starkness, and it flashed across him with the certainty of truth +that the green sparks were the back rays, and the whirls the forward +rays, of Muspel. The former were trying desperately to return to their +place of origin, but were overpowered by the brute force of the latter, +which wished only to remain where they were. The individual whirls were +jostling and fighting with, and even devouring, each other. This created +pain, but, whatever pain they felt, it was always pleasure that they +sought. Sometimes the green sparks were strong enough for a moment to +move a little way in the direction of Muspel; the whirls would then +accept the movement, not only without demur, but with pride and +pleasure, as if it were their own handiwork—but they never saw beyond +the Shadow, they thought that they were travelling toward it. The +instant the direct movement wearied them, as contrary to their whirling +nature, they fell again to killing, dancing, and loving. + +Nightspore had a foreknowledge that the sixth window would prove to be +the last. Nothing would have kept him from ascending to it, for he +guessed that the nature of Crystalman himself would there become +manifest. Every step upward was like a bloody life-and-death struggle. +The stairs nailed him to the ground; the air pressure caused blood to +gush from his nose and ears; his head clanged like an iron bell. When he +had fought his way up a dozen steps, he found himself suddenly at the +top; the staircase terminated in a small, bare chamber of cold stone, +possessing a single window. On the other side of the apartment another +short flight of stairs mounted through a trap, apparently to the roof of +the building. Before ascending these stairs, Nightspore hastened to the +window and stared out. + +The shadow form of Crystalman had drawn much closer to him, and filled +the whole sky, but it was not a shadow of darkness, but a bright shadow. +It had neither shape, nor colour, yet it in some way suggested the +delicate tints of early morning. It was so nebulous that the sphere +could be clearly distinguished through it; in extension, however, it was +thick. The sweet smell emanating from it was strong, loathsome, and +terrible; it seemed to spring from a sort of loose, mocking slime +inexpressibly vulgar and ignorant. + +The spirit stream from Muspel flashed with complexity and variety. It +was not below individuality, but above it. It was not the One, or the +Many, but something else far beyond either. It approached Crystalman, +and entered his body—if that bright mist could be called a body. It +passed right through him, and the passage caused him the most exquisite +pleasure. _The Muspel-stream was Crystalman’s food_. The stream emerged +from the other side on to the sphere, in a double condition. Part of it +reappeared intrinsically unaltered, but shivered into a million +fragments. These were the green corpuscles. In passing through +Crystalman they had escaped absorption by reason of their extreme +minuteness. The other part of the stream had not escaped. Its fire had +been abstracted, its cement was withdrawn, and, after being fouled and +softened by the horrible sweetness of the host, it broke into +individuals, which were the whirls of living will. + +Nightspore shuddered. He comprehended at last how the whole world of +will was doomed to eternal anguish in order that one Being might feel +joy. + +Presently he set foot on the final flight leading to the roof; for he +remembered vaguely that now only that remained. + +Halfway up, he fainted—but when he recovered consciousness he persisted +as though nothing had happened to him. As soon as his head was above the +trap, breathing the free air, he had the same physical sensation as a +man stepping out of water. He pulled his body up, and stood expectantly +on the stone-floored roof, looking round for his first glimpse of +Muspel. + +There was nothing. + +He was standing upon the top of a tower, measuring not above fifteen +feet each way. Darkness was all around him. He sat down on the stone +parapet, with a sinking heart; a heavy foreboding possessed him. + +Suddenly, without seeing or hearing anything, he had the distinct +impression that the darkness around him, on all four sides, was +grinning.... As soon as that happened, he understood that he was wholly +surrounded by Crystalman’s world, and that Muspel consisted of himself +and the stone tower on which he was sitting. + +Fire flashed in his heart.... Millions upon millions of grotesque, +vulgar, ridiculous, sweetened individuals—once Spirit—were calling out +from their degradation and agony for salvation from Muspel.... To answer +that cry there was only himself... and Krag waiting below... and +Surtur—But where was Surtur? + +The truth forced itself on him in all its cold, brutal reality. Muspel +was no all-powerful Universe, tolerating from pure indifference the +existence side by side with it of another false world, which had no +right to be. Muspel was fighting for its life—against all that is most +shameful and frightful—against sin masquerading as eternal beauty, +against baseness masquerading as Nature, against the Devil masquerading +as God.... + +Now he understood everything. The moral combat was no mock one, no +Valhalla, where warriors are cut to pieces by day and feast by night; +but a grim death struggle in which what is worse than death—namely, +spiritual death—inevitably awaited the vanquished of Muspel.... By what +means could he hold back from this horrible war! + +During those moments of anguish, all thoughts of Self—the corruption of +his life on Earth—were scorched out of Nightspore’s soul, perhaps not +for the first time. + +After sitting a long time, he prepared to descend. Without warning, a +strange, wailing cry swept over the face of the world. Starting in awful +mystery, it ended with such a note of low and sordid mockery that he +could not doubt for a moment whence it originated. It was the voice of +Crystalman. + +***** + +Krag was waiting for him on the island raft. He threw a +stern glance at Nightspore. + +“Have you seen everything?” + +“The struggle is hopeless,” muttered Nightspore. + +“Did I not say I am the stronger?” + +“You may be the stronger, but he is the mightier.” + +“I am the stronger and the mightier. Crystalman’s Empire is but a shadow +on the face of Muspel. But nothing will be done without the bloodiest +blows.... What do you mean to do?” + +Nightspore looked at him strangely. “Are you not Surtur, Krag?” + +“Yes.” + +“Yes,” said Nightspore in a slow voice, without surprise. “But what is +your name on Earth?” + +“It is pain.” + +“That, too, I must have known.” + +He was silent for a few minutes; then he stepped quietly onto the raft. +Krag pushed off, and they proceeded into the darkness. + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Voyage to Arcturus, by David +Lindsay + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1329 *** |