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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/32850-h.zip b/32850-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..703b335 --- /dev/null +++ b/32850-h.zip diff --git a/32850-h/32850-h.htm b/32850-h/32850-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fd0aaea --- /dev/null +++ b/32850-h/32850-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1791 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Tree Of Life, by C. L. Moore. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 20%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tree of Life, by Catherine Lucille Moore + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Tree of Life + +Author: Catherine Lucille Moore + +Release Date: June 17, 2010 [EBook #32850] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TREE OF LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h1>The Tree of Life</h1> + +<h2>By C. L. MOORE</h2> + +<p>[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Weird Tales October +1936. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="sidenote"><i>A gripping tale of the planet Mars and the terrible +monstrosity that called its victims to it from afar—a tale of Northwest +Smith</i></div> + + +<p>Over time-ruined Illar the searching planes swooped and circled. +Northwest Smith, peering up at them with a steel-pale stare from the +shelter of a half-collapsed temple, thought of vultures wheeling above +carrion. All day long now they had been raking these ruins for him. +Presently, he knew, thirst would begin to parch his throat and hunger to +gnaw at him. There was neither food nor water in these ancient Martian +ruins, and he knew that it could be only a matter of time before the +urgencies of his own body would drive him out to signal those wheeling +Patrol ships and trade his hard-won liberty for food and drink. He +crouched lower under the shadow of the temple arch and cursed the +accuracy of the Patrol gunner whose flame-blast had caught his dodging +ship just at the edge of Illar's ruins.</p> + +<p>Presently it occurred to him that in most Martian temples of the ancient +days an ornamental well had stood in the outer court for the benefit of +wayfarers. Of course all water in it would be a million years dry now, +but for lack of anything better to do he rose from his seat at the edge +of the collapsed central dome and made his cautious way by still intact +corridors toward the front of the temple. He paused in a tangle of +wreckage at the courtyard's edge and looked out across the sun-drenched +expanse of pavement toward that ornate well that once had served +travelers who passed by here in the days when Mars was a green planet.</p> + +<p>It was an unusually elaborate well, and amazingly well preserved. Its +rim had been inlaid with a mosaic pattern whose symbolism must once have +borne deep meaning, and above it in a great fan of time-defying bronze +an elaborate grille-work portrayed the inevitable tree-of-life pattern +which so often appears in the symbolism of the three worlds. Smith +looked at it a bit incredulously from his shelter, it was so +miraculously preserved amidst all this chaos of broken stone, casting a +delicate tracery of shadow on the sunny pavement as perfectly as it must +have done a million years ago when dusty travelers paused here to drink. +He could picture them filing in at noontime through the great gates +that——</p> + +<p>The vision vanished abruptly as his questing eyes made the circle of the +ruined walls. There had been no gate. He could not find a trace of it +anywhere around the outer wall of the court. The only entrance here, as +nearly as he could tell from the foundations that remained, had been the +door in whose ruins he now stood. Queer. This must have been a private +court, then, its great grille-crowned well reserved for the use of the +priests. Or wait—had there not been a priest-king Illar after whom the +city was named? A wizard-king, so legend said, who ruled temple as well +as palace with an iron hand. This elaborately patterned well, of +material royal enough to withstand the weight of ages, might well have +been sacrosanct for the use of that long-dead monarch. It might——</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Across the sun-bright pavement swept the shadow of a plane. Smith dodged +back into deeper hiding while the ship circled low over the courtyard. +And it was then, as he crouched against a crumbled wall and waited, +motionless, for the danger to pass, that he became aware for the first +time of a sound that startled him so he could scarcely credit his +ears—a recurrent sound, choked and sorrowful—the sound of a woman +sobbing.</p> + +<p>The incongruity of it made him forgetful for a moment of the peril +hovering overhead in the sun-hot outdoors. The dimness of the temple +ruins became a living and vital place for that moment, throbbing with +the sound of tears. He looked about half in incredulity, wondering if +hunger and thirst were playing tricks on him already, or if these broken +halls might be haunted by a million-years-old sorrow that wept along the +corridors to drive its hearers mad. There were tales of such haunters in +some of Mars' older ruins. The hair prickled faintly at the back of his +neck as he laid a hand on the butt of his force-gun and commenced a +cautious prowl toward the source of the muffled noise.</p> + +<p>Presently he caught a flash of white, luminous in the gloom of these +ruined walls, and went forward with soundless steps, eyes narrowed in +the effort to make out what manner of creature this might be that wept +alone in time-forgotten ruins. It was a woman. Or it had the dim +outlines of a woman, huddled against an angle of fallen walls and veiled +in a fabulous shower of long dark hair. But there was something +uncannily odd about her. He could not focus his pale stare upon her +outlines. She was scarcely more than a luminous blot of whiteness in the +gloom, shimmering with a look of unreality which the sound of her sobs +denied.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Before he could make up his mind just what to do, something must have +warned the weeping girl that she was no longer alone, for the sound of +her tears checked suddenly and she lifted her head, turning to him a +face no more distinguishable than her body's outlines. He made no effort +to resolve the blurred features into visibility, for out of that +luminous mask burned two eyes that caught his with an almost perceptible +impact and gripped them in a stare from which he could not have turned +if he would.</p> + +<p>They were the most amazing eyes he had ever met, colored like moonstone, +milkily translucent, so that they looked almost blind. And that magnetic +stare held him motionless. In the instant that she gripped him with that +fixed, moonstone look he felt oddly as if a tangible bond were taut +between them.</p> + +<p>Then she spoke, and he wondered if his mind, after all, had begun to +give way in the haunted loneliness of dead Illar; for though the words +she spoke fell upon his ears in a gibberish of meaningless sounds, yet +in his brain a message formed with a clarity that far transcended the +halting communication of words. And her milkily colored eyes bored into +his with a fierce intensity.</p> + +<p>"I'm lost—I'm lost——" wailed the voice in his brain.</p> + +<p>A rush of sudden tears brimmed the compelling eyes, veiling their +brilliance. And he was free again with that clouding of the moonstone +surfaces. Her voice wailed, but the words were meaningless and no +knowledge formed in his brain to match them. Stiffly he stepped back a +pace and looked down at her, a feeling of helpless incredulity rising +within him. For he still could not focus directly upon the shining +whiteness of her, and nothing save those moonstone eyes were clear to +him.</p> + +<p>The girl sprang to her feet and rose on tiptoe, gripping his shoulders +with urgent hands. Again the blind intensity of her eyes took hold of +his, with a force almost as tangible as the clutch of her hands; again +that stream of intelligence poured into his brain, strongly, pleadingly.</p> + +<p>"Please, please take me back! I'm so frightened—I can't find my +way—oh, please!"</p> + +<p>He blinked down at her, his dazed mind gradually realizing the basic +facts of what was happening. Obviously her milky, unseeing eyes held a +magnetic power that carried her thoughts to him without the need of a +common speech. And they were the eyes of a powerful mind, the outlets +from which a stream of fierce energy poured into his brain. Yet the +words they conveyed were the words of a terrified and helpless girl. A +strong sense of wariness was rising in him as he considered the +incongruity of speech and power, both of which were beating upon him +more urgently with every breath. The mind of a forceful and +strong-willed woman, carrying the sobs of a frightened girl. There was +no sincerity in it.</p> + +<p>"Please, please!" cried her impatience in his brain. "Help me! Guide me +back!"</p> + +<p>"Back where?" he heard his own voice asking.</p> + +<p>"The Tree!" wailed that queer speech in his brain, while gibberish was +all his ears heard and the moonstone stare transfixed him strongly. "The +Tree of Life! Oh, take me back to the shadow of the Tree!"</p> + +<p>A vision of the grille-ornamented well leaped into his memory. It was +the only tree symbol he could think of just then. But what possible +connection could there be between the well and the lost girl—if she was +lost? Another wail in that unknown tongue, another anguished shake of +his shoulders, brought a sudden resolution into his groping mind. There +could be no harm in leading her back to the well, to whose grille she +must surely be referring. And strong curiosity was growing in his mind. +Much more than met the eye was concealed in this queer incident. And a +wild guess had flashed through his mind that perhaps she might have come +from some subterranean world into which the well descended. It would +explain her luminous pallor, if not her blurriness; and, too, her eyes +did not seem to function in the light. There was a much more incredible +explanation of her presence, but he was not to know it for a few minutes +yet.</p> + +<p>"Come along," he said, taking the clutching hands gently from his +shoulders. "I'll lead you to the well."</p> + +<p>She sighed in a deep gust of relief and dropped her compelling eyes from +his, murmuring in that strange, gabbling tongue what must have been +thanks. He took her by the hand and turned toward the ruined archway of +the door.</p> + +<p>Against his fingers her flesh was cool and firm. To the touch she was +tangible, but even thus near, his eyes refused to focus upon the cloudy +opacity of her body, the dark blur of her streaming hair. Nothing but +those burning, blinded eyes were strong enough to pierce the veil that +parted them.</p> + +<p>She stumbled along at his side over the rough floor of the temple, +saying nothing more, panting with eagerness to return to her +incomprehensible "tree." How much of that eagerness was assumed Smith +still could not be quite sure. When they reached the door he halted her +for a moment, scanning the sky for danger. Apparently the ships had +finished with this quarter of the city, for he could see two or three of +them half a mile away, hovering low over Illar's northern section. He +could risk it without much peril. He led the girl cautiously out into +the sun-hot court.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>She could not have known by sight that they neared the well, but when +they were within twenty paces of it she flung up her blurred head +suddenly and tugged at his hand. It was she who led him that last +stretch which parted the two from the well. In the sun the shadow +tracery of the grille's symbolic pattern lay vividly outlined on the +ground. The girl gave a little gasp of delight. She dropped his hand and +ran forward three short steps, and plunged into the very center of that +shadowy pattern on the ground. And what happened then was too incredible +to believe.</p> + +<p>The pattern ran over her like a garment, curving to the curve of her +body in the way all shadows do. But as she stood there striped and laced +with the darkness of it, there came a queer shifting in the lines of +black tracery, a subtle, inexplicable movement to one side. And with +that motion she vanished. It was exactly as if that shifting had moved +her out of one world into another. Stupidly Smith stared at the spot +from which she had disappeared.</p> + +<p>Then several things happened almost simultaneously. The zoom of a plane +broke suddenly into the quiet, a black shadow dipped low over the +rooftops, and Smith, too late, realized that he stood defenseless in +full view of the searching ships. There was only one way out, and that +was too fantastic to put faith in, but he had no time to hesitate. With +one leap he plunged full into the midst of the shadow of the tree of +life.</p> + +<p>Its tracery flowed round him, molding its pattern to his body. And +outside the boundaries everything executed a queer little sidewise dip +and slipped in the most extraordinary manner, like an optical illusion, +into quite another scene. There was no intervention of blankness. It was +as if he looked through the bars of a grille upon a picture which +without warning slipped sidewise, while between the bars appeared +another scene, a curious, dim landscape, gray as if with the twilight of +early evening. The air had an oddly thickened look, through which he saw +the quiet trees and the flower-spangled grass of the place with a queer, +unreal blending, like the landscape in a tapestry, all its outlines +blurred.</p> + +<p>In the midst of this tapestried twilight the burning whiteness of the +girl he had followed blazed like a flame. She had paused a few steps +away and stood waiting, apparently quite sure that he would come after. +He grinned a little to himself as he realized it, knowing that curiosity +must almost certainly have driven him in her wake even if the necessity +for shelter had not compelled his following.</p> + +<p>She was clearly visible now, in this thickened dimness—visible, and +very lovely, and a little unreal. She shone with a burning clarity, the +only vivid thing in the whole twilit world. Eyes upon that blazing +whiteness, Smith stepped forward, scarcely realizing that he had moved.</p> + +<p>Slowly he crossed the dark grass toward her. That grass was soft +under-foot, and thick with small, low-blooming flowers of a shining +pallor. Botticelli painted such spangled swards for the feet of his +angels. Upon it the girl's bare feet gleamed whiter than the blossoms. +She wore no garment but the royal mantle of her hair, sweeping about her +in a cloak of shining darkness that had a queer, unreal tinge of purple +in that low light. It brushed her ankles in its fabulous length. From +the hood of it she watched Smith coming toward her, a smile on her pale +mouth and a light blazing in the deeps of her moonstone eyes. She was +not blind now, nor frightened. She stretched out her hand to him +confidently.</p> + +<p>"It is my turn now to lead you," she smiled. As before, the words were +gibberish, but the penetrating stare of those strange white eyes gave +them a meaning in the depths of his brain.</p> + +<p>Automatically his hand went out to hers. He was a little dazed, and her +eyes were very compelling. Her fingers twined in his and she set off +over the flowery grass, pulling him beside her. He did not ask where +they were going. Lost in the dreamy spell of the still, gray, enchanted +place, he felt no need for words. He was beginning to see more clearly +in the odd, blurring twilight that ran the outlines of things together +in that queer, tapestried manner. And he puzzled in a futile, muddled +way as he went on over what sort of land he had come into. Overhead was +darkness, paling into twilight near the ground, so that when he looked +up he was staring into bottomless deeps of starless night.</p> + +<p>Trees and flowering shrubs and the flower-starred grass stretched +emptily about them in the thick, confusing gloom of the place. He could +see only a little distance through that dim air. It was as if they +walked a strip of tapestried twilight in some unlighted dream. And the +girl, with her lovely, luminous body and richly colored robe of hair was +like a woman in a tapestry too, unreal and magical.</p> + +<p>After a while, when he had become a little adjusted to the queerness of +the whole scene, he began to notice furtive movements in the shrubs and +trees they passed. Things flickered too swiftly for him to catch their +outlines, but from the tail of his eye he was aware of motion, and +somehow of eyes that watched. That sensation was a familiar one to him, +and he kept an uneasy gaze on those shiftings in the shrubbery as they +went on. Presently he caught a watcher in full view between bush and +tree, and saw that it was a man, a little, furtive, dark-skinned man who +dodged hastily back into cover again before Smith's eyes could do more +than take in the fact of his existence.</p> + +<p>After that he knew what to expect and could make them out more easily: +little, darting people with big eyes that shone with a queer, sorrowful +darkness from their small, frightened faces as they scuttled through the +bushes, dodging always just out of plain sight among the leaves. He +could hear the soft rustle of their passage, and once or twice when they +passed near a clump of shrubbery he thought he caught the echo of little +whispering calls, gentle as the rustle of leaves and somehow full of a +strange warning note so clear that he caught it even amid the murmur of +their speech. Warning calls, and little furtive hiders in the leaves, +and a landscape of tapestried blurring carpeted with Botticelli +flower-strewn sward. It was all a dream. He felt quite sure of that.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was a long while before curiosity awakened in him sufficiently to +make him break the stillness. But at last he asked dreamily,</p> + +<p>"Where are we going?"</p> + +<p>The girl seemed to understand that without the necessity of the bond her +hypnotic eyes made, for she turned and caught his eyes in a white stare +and answered,</p> + +<p>"To Thag. Thag desires you."</p> + +<p>"What is Thag?"</p> + +<p>In answer to that she launched without preliminary upon a little +singsong monolog of explanation whose stereotyped formula made him +faintly uneasy with the thought that it must have been made very often +to attain the status of a set speech; made to many men, perhaps, whom +Thag had desired. And what became of them afterward? he wondered. But +the girl was speaking.</p> + +<p>"Many ages ago there dwelt in Illar the great King Illar for whom the +city was named. He was a magician of mighty power, but not mighty enough +to fulfill all his ambitions. So by his arts he called up out of +darkness the being known as Thag, and with him struck a bargain. By that +bargain Thag was to give of his limitless power, serving Illar all the +days of Illar's life, and in return the king was to create a land for +Thag's dwelling-place and people it with slaves and furnish a priestess +to tend Thag's needs. This is that land. I am that priestess, the latest +of a long line of women born to serve Thag. The tree-people are his—his +lesser servants.</p> + +<p>"I have spoken softly so that the tree-people do not hear, for to them +Thag is the center and focus of creation, the end and beginning of all +life. But to you I have told the truth."</p> + +<p>"But what does Thag want of me?"</p> + +<p>"It is not for Thag's servants to question Thag."</p> + +<p>"Then what becomes, afterward, of the men Thag desires?" he pursued.</p> + +<p>"You must ask Thag that."</p> + +<p>She turned her eyes away as she spoke, snapping the mental bond that had +flowed between them with a suddenness that left Smith dizzy. He went on +at her side more slowly, pulling back a little on the tug of her +fingers. By degrees the sense of dreaminess was fading, and alarm began +to stir in the deeps of his mind. After all, there was no reason why he +need let this blank-eyed priestess lead him up to the very maw of her +god. She had lured him into this land by what he knew now to have been a +trick; might she not have worse tricks than that in store for him?</p> + +<p>She held him, after all, by nothing stronger than the clasp of her +fingers, if he could keep his eyes turned from hers. Therein lay her +real power, but he could fight it if he chose. And he began to hear more +clearly than ever the queer note of warning in the rustling whispers of +the tree-folk who still fluttered in and out of sight among the leaves. +The twilight place had taken on menace and evil.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he made up his mind. He stopped, breaking the clasp of the +girl's hand.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going," he said.</p> + +<p>She swung round in a sweep of richly tinted hair, words jetting from her +in a gush of incoherence. But he dared not meet her eyes, and they +conveyed no meaning to him. Resolutely he turned away, ignoring her +voice, and set out to retrace the way they had come. She called after +him once, in a high, clear voice that somehow held a note as warning as +that in the rustling voices of the tree-people, but he kept on doggedly, +not looking back. She laughed then, sweetly and scornfully, a laugh that +echoed uneasily in his mind long after the sound of it had died upon the +twilit air.</p> + +<p>After a while he glanced back over one shoulder, half expecting to see +the luminous dazzle of her body still glowing in the dim glade where he +had left her; but the blurred tapestry-landscape was quite empty.</p> + +<p>He went on in the midst of a silence so deep it hurt his ears, and in a +solitude unhaunted even by the shy presences of the tree-folk. They had +vanished with the fire-bright girl, and the whole twilight land was +empty save for himself. He plodded on across the dark grass, crushing +the upturned flower-faces under his boots and asking himself wearily if +he could be mad. There seemed little other explanation for this hushed +and tapestried solitude that had swallowed him up. In that thunderous +quiet, in that deathly solitude, he went on.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>When he had walked for what seemed to him much longer than it should +have taken to reach his starting-point, and still no sign of an exit +appeared, he began to wonder if there were any way out of the gray land +of Thag. For the first time he realized that he had come through no +tangible gateway. He had only stepped out of a shadow, and—now that he +thought of it—there were no shadows here. The grayness swallowed +everything up, leaving the landscape oddly flat, like a badly drawn +picture. He looked about helplessly, quite lost now and not sure in what +direction he should be facing, for there was nothing here by which to +know directions. The trees and shrubs and the starry grass still +stretched about him, uncertainly outlined in that changeless dusk. They +seemed to go on for ever.</p> + +<p>But he plodded ahead, unwilling to stop because of a queer tension in +the air, somehow as if all the blurred trees and shrubs were waiting in +breathless anticipation, centering upon his stumbling figure. But all +trace of animate life had vanished with the disappearance of the +priestess' white-glowing figure. Head down, paying little heed to where +he was going, he went on over the flowery sward.</p> + +<p>An odd sense of voids about him startled Smith at last out of his +lethargic plodding. He lifted his head. He stood just at the edge of a +line of trees, dim and indistinct in the unchanging twilight. Beyond +them—he came to himself with a jerk and stared incredulously. Beyond +them the grass ran down to nothingness, merging by imperceptible degrees +into a streaked and arching void—not the sort of emptiness into which a +material body could fall, but a solid <i>nothing</i>, curving up toward the +dark zenith as the inside of a sphere curves. No physical thing could +have entered there. It was too utterly void, an inviolable emptiness +which no force could invade.</p> + +<p>He stared up along the inward arch of that curving, impassable wall. +Here, then, was the edge of the queer land Illar had wrested out of +space itself. This arch must be the curving of solid space which had +been bent awry to enclose the magical land. There was no escape this +way. He could not even bring himself to approach any nearer to that +streaked and arching blank. He could not have said why, but it woke in +him an inner disquiet so strong that after a moment's staring he turned +his eyes away.</p> + +<p>Presently he shrugged and set off along the inside of the line of trees +which parted him from the space-wall. Perhaps there might be a break +somewhere. It was a forlorn hope, but the best that offered. Wearily he +stumbled on over the flowery grass.</p> + +<p>How long he had gone on along that almost imperceptibly curving line of +border he could not have said, but after a timeless interval of gray +solitude he gradually became aware that a tiny rustling and whispering +among the leaves had been growing louder by degrees for some time. He +looked up. In and out among the trees which bordered that solid wall of +nothingness little, indistinguishable figures were flitting. The +tree-men had returned. Queerly grateful for their presence, he went on a +bit more cheerfully, paying no heed to their timid dartings to and fro, +for Smith was wise in the ways of wild life.</p> + +<p>Presently, when they saw how little heed he paid them, they began to +grow bolder, their whispers louder. And among those rustling voices he +thought he was beginning to catch threads of familiarity. Now and again +a word reached his ears that he seemed to recognize, lost amidst the +gibberish of their speech. He kept his head down and his hands quiet, +plodding along with a cunning stillness that began to bear results.</p> + +<p>From the corner of his eye he could see that a little dark tree-man had +darted out from cover and paused midway between bush and tree to inspect +the queer, tall stranger. Nothing happened to this daring venturer, and +soon another risked a pause in the open to stare at the quiet walker +among the trees. In a little while a small crowd of the tree-people was +moving slowly parallel with his course, staring with all the avid +curiosity of wild things at Smith's plodding figure. And among them the +rustling whispers grew louder.</p> + +<p>Presently the ground dipped down into a little hollow ringed with trees. +It was a bit darker here than it had been on the higher level, and as he +went down the slope of its side he saw that among the underbrush which +filled it were cunningly hidden huts twined together out of the living +bushes. Obviously the hollow was a tiny village where the tree-folk +dwelt.</p> + +<p>He was surer of this when they began to grow bolder as he went down into +the dimness of the place. The whispers shrilled a little, and the +boldest among his watchers ran almost at his elbow, twittering their +queer, broken speech in hushed syllables whose familiarity still +bothered him with its haunting echo of words he knew. When he had +reached the center of the hollow he became aware that the little folk +had spread out in a ring to surround him. Wherever he looked their +small, anxious faces and staring eyes confronted him. He grinned to +himself and came to a halt, waiting gravely.</p> + +<p>None of them seemed quite brave enough to constitute himself spokesman, +but among several a hurried whispering broke out in which he caught the +words "Thag" and "danger" and "beware." He recognized the meaning of +these words without placing in his mind their origins in some tongue he +knew. He knit his sun-bleached brows and concentrated harder, striving +to wrest from that curious, murmuring whisper some hint of its original +root. He had a smattering of more tongues than he could have counted +offhand, and it was hard to place these scattered words among any one +speech.</p> + +<p>But the word "Thag" had a sound like that of the very ancient dryland +tongue, which upon Mars is considered at once the oldest and the most +uncouth of all the planet's languages. And with that clue to guide him +he presently began to catch other syllables which were remotely like +syllables from the dryland speech. They were almost unrecognizable, far, +far more ancient than the very oldest versions of the tongue he had ever +heard repeated, almost primitive in their crudity and simplicity. And +for a moment the sheerest awe came over him, as he realized the +significance of what he listened to.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The dryland race today is a handful of semi-brutes, degenerate from the +ages of past time when they were a mighty people at the apex of an +almost forgotten glory. That day is millions of years gone now, too far +in the past to have record save in the vaguest folklore. Yet here was a +people who spoke the rudiments of that race's tongue as it must have +been spoken in the race's dim beginnings, perhaps a million years +earlier even than that immemorial time of their triumph. The reeling of +millenniums set Smith's mind awhirl with the effort at compassing their +span.</p> + +<p>There was another connotation in the speaking of that tongue by these +timid bush-dwellers, too. It must mean that the forgotten wizard king, +Illar, had peopled his sinister, twilight land with the ancestors of +today's dryland dwellers. If they shared the same tongue they must share +the same lineage. And humanity's remorseless adaptability had done the +rest.</p> + +<p>It had been no kinder here than in the outside world, where the ancient +plains-men who had roamed Mars' green prairies had dwindled with their +dying plains, degenerating at last into a shrunken, leather-skinned +bestiality. For here that same race root had declined into these tiny, +slinking creatures with their dusky skins and great, staring eyes and +their voices that never rose above a whisper. What tragedies must lie +behind that gradual degeneration!</p> + +<p>All about him the whispers still ran. He was beginning to suspect that +through countless ages of hiding and murmuring those voices must have +lost the ability to speak aloud. And he wondered with a little inward +chill what terror it was which had transformed a free and fearless +people into these tiny wild things whispering in the underbrush.</p> + +<p>The little anxious voices had shrilled into vehemence now, all of them +chattering together in their queer, soft, rustling whispers. Looking +back later upon that timeless space he had passed in the hollow, Smith +remembered it as some curious nightmare—dimness and tapestried +blurring, and a hush like death over the whole twilight land, and the +timid voices whispering, whispering, eloquent with terror and warning.</p> + +<p>He groped back among his memories and brought forth a phrase or two +remembered from long ago, an archaic rendering of the immemorial tongue +they spoke. It was the simplest version he could remember of the complex +speech now used, but he knew that to them it must sound fantastically +strange. Instinctively he whispered as he spoke it, feeling like an +actor in a play as he mouthed the ancient idiom,</p> + +<p>"I—I cannot understand. Speak—more slowly——"</p> + +<p>A torrent of words greeted this rendering of their tongue. Then there +was a great deal of hushing and hissing, and presently two or three +between them began laboriously to recite an involved speech, one +syllable at a time. Always two or more shared the task. Never in his +converse with them did he address anyone directly. Ages of terror had +bred all directness out of them.</p> + +<p>"Thag," they said. "Thag, the terrible—Thag, the omnipotent—Thag, the +unescapable. Beware of Thag."</p> + +<p>For a moment Smith stood quiet, grinning down at them despite himself. +There must not be too much of intelligence left among this branch of the +race, either, for surely such a warning was superfluous. Yet they had +mastered their agonies of timidity to give it. All virtue could not yet +have been bred out of them, then. They still had kindness and a sort of +desperate courage rooted deep in fear.</p> + +<p>"What is Thag?" he managed to inquire, voicing the archaic syllables +uncertainly. And they must have understood the meaning if not the +phraseology, for another spate of whispered tumult burst from the +clustering tribe. Then, as before, several took up the task of +answering.</p> + +<p>"Thag—Thag, the end and the beginning, the center of creation. When +Thag breathes the world trembles. The earth was made for Thag's +dwelling-place. All things are Thag's. Oh, beware! Beware!"</p> + +<p>This much he pieced together out of their diffuse whisperings, catching +up the fragments of words he knew and fitting them into the pattern.</p> + +<p>"What—what is the danger?" he managed to ask.</p> + +<p>"Thag—hungers. Thag must be fed. It is we who—feed—him, but there are +times when he desires other food than us. It is then he sends his +priestess forth to lure—food—in. Oh, beware of Thag!"</p> + +<p>"You mean then, that she—the priestess—brought me in for—food?"</p> + +<p>A chorus of grave, murmuring affirmatives.</p> + +<p>"Then why did she leave me?"</p> + +<p>"There is no escape from Thag. Thag is the center of creation. All +things are Thag's. When he calls, you must answer. When he hungers, he +will have you. Beware of Thag!"</p> + +<p>Smith considered that for a moment in silence. In the main he felt +confident that he had understood their warning correctly, and he had +little reason to doubt that they knew whereof they spoke. Thag might not +be the center of the universe, but if they said he could call a victim +from anywhere in the land, Smith was not disposed to doubt it. The +priestess' willingness to let him leave her unhindered, yes, even her +scornful laughter as he looked back, told the same story. Whatever Thag +might be, his power in this land could not be doubted. He made up his +mind suddenly what he must do, and turned to the breathlessly waiting +little folk.</p> + +<p>"Which way—lies Thag?" he asked.</p> + +<p>A score of dark, thin arms pointed. Smith turned his head speculatively +toward the spot they indicated. In this changeless twilight all sense of +direction had long since left him, but he marked the line as well as he +could by the formation of the trees, then turned to the little people +with a ceremonious farewell rising to his lips.</p> + +<p>"My thanks for——" he began, to be interrupted by a chorus of +whispering cries of protest. They seemed to sense his intention, and +their pleadings were frantic. A panic anxiety for him glowed upon every +little terrified face turned up to his, and their eyes were wide with +protest and terror. Helplessly he looked down.</p> + +<p>"I—I must go," he tried stumblingly to say. "My only chance is to take +Thag unawares, before he sends for me."</p> + +<p>He could not know if they understood. Their chattering went on +undiminished, and they even went so far as to lay tiny hands on him, as +if they would prevent him by force from seeking out the terror of their +lives.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no!" they wailed murmurously. "You do not know what it is you +seek! You do not know Thag! Stay here! Beware of Thag!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>A little prickling of unease went down Smith's back as he listened. Thag +must be very terrible indeed if even half this alarm had foundation. And +to be quite frank with himself, he would greatly have preferred to +remain here in the hidden quiet of the hollow, with its illusion of +shelter, for as long as he was allowed to stay. But he was not of the +stuff that yields very easily to its own terrors, and hope burned +strongly in him still. So he squared his broad shoulders and turned +resolutely in the direction the tree-folk had indicated.</p> + +<p>When they saw that he meant to go, their protests sank to a wail of +bitter grieving. With that sound moaning behind him he went up out of +the hollow, like a man setting forth to the music of his own dirge. A +few of the bravest went with him a little way, flitting through the +underbrush and darting from tree to tree in a timidity so deeply +ingrained that even when no immediate peril threatened they dared not go +openly through the twilight.</p> + +<p>Their presence was comforting to Smith as he went on. A futile desire to +help the little terror-ridden tribe was rising in him, a useless +gratitude for their warning and their friendliness, their genuine +grieving at his departure and their odd, paradoxical bravery even in the +midst of hereditary terror. But he knew that he could do nothing for +them, when he was not at all sure he could even save himself. Something +of their panic had communicated itself to him, and he advanced with a +sinking at the pit of his stomach. Fear of the unknown is so poignant a +thing, feeding on its own terror, that he found his hands beginning to +shake a little and his throat going dry as he went on.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The rustling and whispering among the bushes dwindled as his followers +one by one dropped away, the bravest staying the longest, but even they +failing in courage as Smith advanced steadily in that direction from +which all their lives they had been taught to turn their faces. +Presently he realized that he was alone once more. He went on more +quickly, anxious to come face to face with this horror of the twilight +and dispel at least the fearfulness of its mystery.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The silence was like death. Not a breeze stirred the leaves, and the +only sound was his own breathing, the heavy thud of his own heart. +Somehow he felt sure that he was coming nearer to his goal. The hush +seemed to confirm it. He loosened the force-gun at his thigh.</p> + +<p>In that changeless twilight the ground was sloping down once more into a +broader hollow. He descended slowly, every sense alert for danger, not +knowing if Thag was beast or human or elemental, visible or invisible. +The trees were beginning to thin. He knew that he had almost reached his +goal.</p> + +<p>He paused at the edge of the last line of trees. A clearing spread out +before him at the bottom of the hollow, quiet in the dim, translucent +air. He could focus directly upon no outlines anywhere, for the +tapestried blurring of the place. But when he saw what stood in the very +center of the clearing he stopped dead-still, like one turned to stone, +and a shock of utter cold went chilling through him. Yet he could not +have said why.</p> + +<p>For in the clearing's center stood the Tree of Life. He had met the +symbol too often in patterns and designs not to recognize it, but here +that fabulous thing was living, growing, actually springing up from a +rooted firmness in the spangled grass as any tree might spring. Yet it +could not be real. Its thin brown trunk, of no recognizable substance, +smooth and gleaming, mounted in the traditional spiral; its twelve +fantastically curving branches arched delicately outward from the +central stem. It was bare of leaves. No foliage masked the serpentine +brown spiral of the trunk. But at the tip of each symbolic branch +flowered a blossom of bloody rose so vivid he could scarcely focus his +dazzled eyes upon them.</p> + +<p>This tree alone of all objects in the dim land was sharply distinct to +the eye—terribly distinct, remorselessly clear. No words can describe +the amazing menace that dwelt among its branches. Smith's flesh crept as +he stared, yet he could not for all his staring make out why peril was +so eloquent there. To all appearances here stood only a fabulous symbol +miraculously come to life; yet danger breathed out from it so strongly +that Smith felt the hair lifting on his neck as he stared.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was no ordinary danger. A nameless, choking, paralyzed panic was +swelling in his throat as he gazed upon the perilous beauty of the Tree. +Somehow the arches and curves of its branches seemed to limn a pattern +so dreadful that his heart beat faster as he gazed upon it. But he could +not guess why, though somehow the answer was hovering just out of reach +of his conscious mind. From that first glimpse of it his instincts +shuddered like a shying stallion, yet reason still looked in vain for an +answer.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Nor was the Tree merely a vegetable growth. It was alive, terribly, +ominously alive. He could not have said how he knew that, for it stood +motionless in its empty clearing, not a branch trembling, yet in its +immobility more awfully vital than any animate thing. The very sight of +it woke in Smith an insane urging to flight, to put worlds between +himself and this inexplicably dreadful thing.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Crazy impulses stirred in his brain, coming to insane birth at the +calling of the Tree's peril—the desperate need to shut out the sight of +that thing that was blasphemy, to put out his own sight rather than gaze +longer upon the perilous grace of its branches, to slit his own throat +that he might not need to dwell in the same world which housed so +frightful a sight as the Tree.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>All this was a mad battering in his brain. The strength of him was +enough to isolate it in a far corner of his consciousness, where it +seethed and shrieked half heeded while he turned the cool control which +the spaceways life had taught him to the solution of this urgent +question. But even so his hand was moist and shaking on his gun-butt, +and the breath rasped in his dry throat.</p> + +<p>Why—he asked himself in a determined groping after steadiness—should +the mere sight of a tree, even so fabulous a one as this, rouse that +insane panic in the gazer? What peril could dwell invisibly in a tree so +frightful that the living horror of it could drive a man mad with the +very fact of its unseen presence? He clenched his teeth hard and stared +resolutely at that terrible beauty in the clearing, fighting down the +sick panic that rose in his throat as his eyes forced themselves to +dwell upon the Tree.</p> + +<p>Gradually the revulsion subsided. After a nightmare of striving he +mustered the strength to force it down far enough to allow reason's +entry once more. Sternly holding down that frantic terror under the +surface of consciousness, he stared resolutely at the Tree. And he knew +that this was Thag.</p> + +<p>It could be nothing else, for surely two such dreadful things could not +dwell in one land. It must be Thag, and he could understand now the +immemorial terror in which the tree-folk held it, but he did not yet +grasp in what way it threatened them physically. The inexplicable +dreadfulness of it was a menace to the mind's very existence, but surely +a rooted tree, however terrible to look at, could wield little actual +danger.</p> + +<p>As he reasoned, his eyes were seeking restlessly among the branches, +searching for the answer to their dreadfulness. After all, this thing +wore the aspect of an old pattern, and in that pattern there was nothing +dreadful. The tree of life had made up the design upon that well-top in +Illar through whose shadow he had entered here, and nothing in that +bronze grille-work had roused terror. Then why——? What living menace +dwelt invisibly among these branches to twist them into curves of +horror?</p> + +<p>A fragment of old verse drifted through his mind as he stared in +perplexity:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What immortal hand or eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could frame thy fearful symmetry?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And for the first time the true significance of a "fearful symmetry" +broke upon him. Truly a more than human agency must have arched these +subtle curves so delicately into dreadfulness, into such an awful beauty +that the very sight of it made those atavistic terrors he was so sternly +holding down leap in a gibbering terror.</p> + +<p>A tremor rippled over the Tree. Smith froze rigid, staring with startled +eyes. No breath of wind had stirred through the clearing, but the Tree +was moving with a slow, serpentine grace, writhing its branches +leisurely in a horrible travesty of voluptuous enjoyment. And upon their +tips the blood-red flowers were spreading like cobra's hoods, swelling +and stretching their petals out and glowing with a hue so eye-piercingly +vivid that it transcended the bounds of color and blazed forth like pure +light.</p> + +<p>But it was not toward Smith that they stirred. They were arching out +from the central trunk toward the far side of the clearing. After a +moment Smith tore his eyes away from the indescribably dreadful +flexibility of those branches and looked to see the cause of their +writhing.</p> + +<p>A blaze of luminous white had appeared among the trees across the +clearing. The priestess had returned. He watched her pacing slowly +toward the Tree, walking with a precise and delicate grace as liquidly +lovely as the motion of the Tree. Her fabulous hair swung down about her +in a swaying robe that rippled at every step away from the moon-white +beauty of her body. Straight toward the Tree she paced, and all the +blossoms glowed more vividly at her nearness, the branches stretching +toward her, rippling with eagerness.</p> + +<p>Priestess though she was, he could not believe that she was going to +come within touch of that Tree the very sight of which roused such a +panic instinct of revulsion in every fiber of him. But she did not +swerve or slow in her advance. Walking delicately over the flowery +grass, arrogantly luminous in the twilight, so that her body was the +center and focus of any landscape she walked in, she neared her horribly +eager god.</p> + +<p>Now she was under the Tree, and its trunk had writhed down over her and +she was lifting her arms like a girl to her lover. With a gliding +slowness the flame-tipped branches slid round her. In that incredible +embrace she stood immobile for a long moment, the Tree arching down with +all its curling limbs, the girl straining upward, her head thrown back +and the mantle of her hair swinging free of her body as she lifted her +face to the quivering blossoms. The branches gathered her closer in +their embrace. Now the blossoms arched near, curving down all about her, +touching her very gently, twisting their blazing faces toward the focus +of her moon-white body. One poised directly above her face, trembled, +brushed her mouth lightly. And the Tree's tremor ran unbroken through +the body of the girl it clasped.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The incredible dreadfulness of that embrace was suddenly more than Smith +could bear. All his terrors, crushed down with so stern a self-control, +without warning burst all bounds and rushed over him in a flood of blind +revulsion. A whimper choked up in his throat and quite involuntarily he +swung round and plunged into the shielding trees, hands to his eyes in a +futile effort to blot out the sight of lovely horror behind him whose +vividness was burnt upon his very brain.</p> + +<p>Heedlessly he blundered through the trees, no thought in his +terror-blank mind save the necessity to run, run, run until he could run +no more. He had given up all attempt at reason and rationality; he no +longer cared why the beauty of the Tree was so dreadful. He only knew +that until all space lay between him and its symmetry he must run and +run and run.</p> + +<p>What brought that frenzied madness to an end he never knew. When sanity +returned to him he was lying face down on the flower-spangled sward in a +silence so deep that his ears ached with its heaviness. The grass was +cool against his cheek. For a moment he fought the back-flow of +knowledge into his emptied mind. When it came, the memory of that horror +he had fled from, he started up with a wild thing's swiftness and glared +around pale-eyed into the unchanging dusk. He was alone. Not even a +rustle in the leaves spoke of the tree-folk's presence.</p> + +<p>For a moment he stood there alert, wondering what had roused him, +wondering what would come next. He was not left long in doubt. The +answer was shrilling very, very faintly through that aching quiet, an +infinitesimally tiny, unthinkably far-away murmur which yet pierced his +ear-drums with the sharpness of tiny needles. Breathless, he strained in +listening. Swiftly the sound grew louder. It deepened upon the silence, +sharpened and shrilled until the thin blade of it was vibrating in the +center of his innermost brain.</p> + +<p>And still it grew, swelling louder and louder through the twilight world +in cadences that were rounding into a queer sort of music and taking on +such an unbearable sweetness that Smith pressed his hands over his ears +in a futile attempt to shut the sound away. He could not. It rang in +steadily deepening intensities through every fiber of his being, +piercing him with thousands of tiny music-blades that quivered in his +very soul with intolerable beauty. And he thought he sensed in the +piercing strength of it a vibration of queer, unnamable power far +mightier than anything ever generated by man, the dim echo of some +cosmic dynamo's hum.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The sound grew sweeter as it strengthened, with a queer, inexplicable +sweetness unlike any music he had ever heard before, rounder and fuller +and more complete than any melody made up of separate notes. Stronger +and stronger he felt the certainty that it was the song of some mighty +power, humming and throbbing and deepening through the twilight until +the whole dim land was one trembling reservoir of sound that filled his +entire consciousness with its throbbing, driving out all other thoughts +and realizations, until he was no more than a shell that vibrated in +answer to the calling.</p> + +<p>For it was a calling. No one could listen to that intolerable sweetness +without knowing the necessity to seek its source. Remotely in the back +of his mind Smith remembered the tree-folk's warning, "When Thag calls, +you must answer." Not consciously did he recall it, for all his +consciousness was answering the siren humming in the air, and, scarcely +realizing that he moved, he had turned toward the source of that +calling, stumbling blindly over the flowery sward with no thought in his +music-brimmed mind but the need to answer that lovely, power-vibrant +summoning.</p> + +<p>Past him as he went on moved other shapes, little and dark-skinned and +ecstatic, gripped like himself in the hypnotic melody. The tree-folk had +forgotten even their inbred fear at Thag's calling, and walked boldly +through the open twilight, lost in the wonder of the song.</p> + +<p>Smith went on with the rest, deaf and blind to the land around him, +alive to one thing only, that summons from the siren tune. +Unrealizingly, he retraced the course of his frenzied flight, past the +trees and bushes he had blundered through, down the slope that led to +the Tree's hollow, through the thinning of the underbrush to the very +edge of the last line of foliage which marked the valley's rim.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>By now the calling was so unbearably intense, so intolerably sweet that +somehow in its very strength it set free a part of his dazed mind as it +passed the limits of audible things and soared into ecstasies which no +senses bound. And though it gripped him ever closer in its magic, a sane +part of his brain was waking into realization. For the first time alarm +came back into his mind, and by slow degrees the world returned about +him. He stared stupidly at the grass moving by under his pacing feet. He +lifted a dragging head and saw that the trees no longer rose about him, +that a twilit clearing stretched away on all sides toward the forest rim +which circled it, that the music was singing from some source so near +that—that——</p> + +<p>The Tree! Terror leaped within him like a wild thing. The Tree, +quivering with unbearable clarity in the thick, dim air, writhed above +him, blossoms blazing with bloody radiance and every branch vibrant and +undulant to the tune of that unholy song. Then he was aware of the +lovely, luminous whiteness of the priestess swaying forward under the +swaying limbs, her hair rippling back from the loveliness of her as she +moved.</p> + +<p>Choked and frenzied with unreasoning terror, he mustered every effort +that was in him to turn, to run again like a mad-man out of that +dreadful hollow, to hide himself under the weight of all space from the +menace of the Tree. And all the while he fought, all the while panic +drummed like mad in his brain, his relentless body plodded on straight +toward the hideous loveliness of that siren singer towering above him. +From the first he had felt subconsciously that it was Thag who called, +and now, in the very center of that ocean of vibrant power, he knew. +Gripped in the music's magic, he went on.</p> + +<p>All over the clearing other hypnotized victims were advancing slowly, +with mechanical steps and wide, frantic eyes as the tree-folk came +helplessly to their god's calling. He watched a group of little, dusky +sacrifices pace step by step nearer to the Tree's vibrant branches. The +priestess came forward to meet them with outstretched arms. He saw her +take the foremost gently by the hands. Unbelieving, hypnotized with +horrified incredulity, he watched her lead the rigid little creature +forward under the fabulous Tree whose limbs yearned downward like hungry +snakes, the great flowers glowing with avid color.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>"The priestess led the rigid little creature forward +under the fabulous tree."</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>He saw the branches twist out and lengthen toward the sacrifice, +quivering with eagerness. Then with a tiger's leap they darted, and the +victim was swept out of the priestess' guiding hands up into the +branches that darted round like tangled snakes in a clot that hid him +for an instant from view. Smith heard a high, shuddering wail ripple out +from that knot of struggling branches, a dreadful cry that held such an +infinity of purest horror and understanding that he could not but +believe that Thag's victims in the moment of their doom must learn the +secret of his horror. After that one frightful cry came silence. In an +instant the limbs fell apart again from emptiness. The little savage had +melted like smoke among their writhing, too quickly to have been +devoured, more as if he had been snatched into another dimension in the +instant the hungry limbs hid him. Flame-tipped, avid, they were dipping +now toward another victim as the priestess paced serenely forward.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>And still Smith's rebellious feet were carrying him on, nearer and +nearer the writhing peril that towered over his head. The music shrilled +like pain. Now he was so close that he could see the hungry +flower-mouths in terrible detail as they faced round toward him. The +limbs quivered and poised like cobras, reached out with a snakish +lengthening, down inexorably toward his shuddering helplessness. The +priestess was turning her calm white face toward his.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Those arcs and changing curves of the branches as they neared were +sketching lines of pure horror whose meaning he still could not +understand, save that they deepened in dreadfulness as he neared. For +the last time that urgent wonder burned up in his mind why—<i>why</i> so +simple a thing as this fabulous Tree should be infused with an +indwelling terror strong enough to send his innermost soul frantic with +revulsion. For the last time—because in that trembling instant as he +waited for their touch, as the music brimmed up with unbearable, +brain-wrenching intensity, in that one last moment before the +flower-mouths seized him—he saw. He understood.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>With eyes opened at last by the instant's ultimate horror, he saw the +real Thag. Dimly he knew that until now the thing had been so frightful +that his eyes had refused to register its existence, his brain to +acknowledge the possibility of such dreadfulness. It had literally been +too terrible to see, though his instinct knew the presence of infinite +horror. But now, in the grip of that mad, hypnotic song, in the instant +before unbearable terror enfolded him, his eyes opened to full sight, +and he saw.</p> + +<p>That Tree was only Thag's outline, sketched three-dimensionally upon the +twilight. Its dreadfully curving branches had been no more than Thag's +barest contours, yet even they had made his very soul sick with +intuitive revulsion. But now, seeing the true horror, his mind was too +numb to do more than register its presence: Thag, hovering monstrously +between earth and heaven, billowing and surging up there in the +translucent twilight, tethered to the ground by the Tree's bending stem +and reaching ravenously after the hypnotized fodder that his calling +brought helpless into his clutches. One by one he snatched them up, one +by one absorbed them into the great, unseeable horror of his being. +That, then, was the reason why they vanished so instantaneously, sucked +into the concealing folds of a thing too dreadful for normal eyes to +see.</p> + +<p>The priestess was pacing forward. Above her the branches arched and +leaned. Caught in a timeless paralysis of horror, Smith stared upward +into the enormous bulk of Thag while the music hummed intolerably in his +shrinking brain—Thag, the monstrous thing from darkness, called up by +Illar in those long-forgotten times when Mars was a green planet. +Foolishly his brain wandered among the ramifications of what had +happened so long ago that time itself had forgotten, refusing to +recognize the fate that was upon himself. He knew a tingle of respect +for the ages-dead wizard who had dared command a being like this to his +services—this vast, blind, hovering thing, ravenous for human flesh, +indistinguishable even now save in those terrible outlines that sent +panic leaping through him with every motion of the Tree's fearful +symmetry.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>All this flashed through his dazed mind in the one blinding instant of +understanding. Then the priestess' luminous whiteness swam up before his +hypnotized stare. Her hands were upon him, gently guiding his mechanical +footsteps, very gently leading him forward into—into——</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The writhing branches struck downward, straight for his face. And in one +flashing leap the moment's infinite horror galvanized him out of his +paralysis. Why, he could not have said. It is not given to many men to +know the ultimate essentials of all horror, concentrated into one +fundamental unit. To most men it would have had that same paralyzing +effect up to the very instant of destruction. But in Smith there must +have been a bed-rock of subtle violence, an unyielding, inflexible +vehemence upon which the structure of his whole life was reared. Few men +have it. And when that ultimate intensity of terror struck the basic +flint of him, reaching down through mind and soul into the deepest +depths of his being, it struck a spark from that inflexible barbarian +buried at the roots of him which had force enough to shock him out of +his stupor.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In the instant of release his hand swept like an unloosed spring, of its +own volition, straight for the butt of his power-gun. He was dragging it +free as the Tree's branches snatched him from its priestess' hands. The +fire-colored blossoms burnt his flesh as they closed round him, the hot +branches gripping like the touch of ravenous fingers. The whole Tree was +hot and throbbing with a dreadful travesty of fleshly life as it whipped +him aloft into the hovering bulk of incarnate horror above.</p> + +<p>In the instantaneous upward leap of the flower-tipped limbs Smith fought +like a demon to free his gun-hand from the gripping coils. For the first +time Thag knew rebellion in his very clutches, and the ecstasy of that +music which had dinned in Smith's ears so strongly that by now it seemed +almost silence was swooping down a long arc into wrath, and the branches +tightened with hot insistency, lifting the rebellious offering into +Thag's monstrous, indescribable bulk.</p> + +<p>But even as they rose, Smith was twisting in their clutch to maneuver +his hand into a position from which he could blast that undulant tree +trunk into nothingness. He knew intuitively the futility of firing up +into Thag's imponderable mass. Thag was not of the world he knew; the +flame blast might well be harmless to that mighty hoverer in the +twilight. But at the Tree's root, where Thag's essential being merged +from the imponderable to the material, rooting in earthly soil, he +should be vulnerable if he were vulnerable at all. Struggling in the +tight, hot coils, breathing the nameless essence of horror, Smith fought +to free his hand.</p> + +<p>The music that had rung so long in his ears was changing as the branches +lifted him higher, losing its melody and merging by swift degrees into a +hum of vast and vibrant power that deepened in intensity as the limbs +drew him upward into Thag's monstrous bulk, the singing force of a thing +mightier than any dynamo ever built. Blinded and dazed by the force +thundering through every atom of his body, he twisted his hand in one +last, convulsive effort, and fired.</p> + +<p>He saw the flame leap in a dazzling gush straight for the trunk below. +It struck. He heard the sizzle of annihilated matter. He saw the trunk +quiver convulsively from the very roots, and the whole fabulous Tree +shook once with an ominous tremor. But before that tremor could shiver +up the branches to him the hum of the living dynamo which was closing +round his body shrilled up arcs of pure intensity into a thundering +silence.</p> + +<p>Then without a moment's warning the world exploded. So instantaneously +did all this happen that the gun-blast's roar had not yet echoed into +silence before a mightier sound than the brain could bear exploded +outward from the very center of his own being. Before the awful power of +it everything reeled into a shaken oblivion. He felt himself falling....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>A queer, penetrating light shining upon his closed eyes roused Smith by +degrees into wakefulness again. He lifted heavy lids and stared upward +into the unwinking eye of Mars' racing nearer moon. He lay there +blinking dazedly for a while before enough of memory returned to rouse +him. Then he sat up painfully, for every fiber of him ached, and stared +round on a scene of the wildest destruction. He lay in the midst of a +wide, rough circle which held nothing but powdered stone. About it, +rising raggedly in the moving moonlight, the blocks of time-forgotten +Illar loomed.</p> + +<p>But they were no longer piled one upon another in a rough travesty of +the city they once had shaped. Some force mightier than any of man's +explosives seemed to have hurled them with such violence from their beds +that their very atoms had been disrupted by the force of it, crumbling +them into dust. And in the very center of the havoc lay Smith, unhurt.</p> + +<p>He stared in bewilderment about the moonlight ruins. In the silence it +seemed to him that the very air still quivered in shocked vibrations. +And as he stared he realized that no force save one could have wrought +such destruction upon the ancient stones. Nor was there any explosive +known to man which would have wrought this strange, pulverizing havoc +upon the blocks of Illar. That force had hummed unbearably through the +living dynamo of Thag, a force so powerful that space itself had bent to +enclose it. Suddenly he realized what must have happened.</p> + +<p>Not Illar, but Thag himself had warped the walls of space to enfold the +twilit world, and nothing but Thag's living power could have held it so +bent to segregate the little, terror-ridden land inviolate.</p> + +<p>Then when the Tree's roots parted, Thag's anchorage in the material +world failed and in one great gust of unthinkable energy the warped +space-walls had ceased to bend. Those arches of solid space had snapped +back into their original pattern, hurling the land and all its dwellers +into—into——His mind balked in the effort to picture what must have +happened, into what ultimate dimension those denizens must have +vanished.</p> + +<p>Only himself, enfolded deep in Thag's very essence, the intolerable +power of the explosion had not touched. So when the warped space-curve +ceased to be, and Thag's hold upon reality failed, he must have been +dropped back out of the dissolving folds upon the spot where the Tree +had stood in the space-circled world, through that vanished world-floor +into the spot he had been snatched from in the instant of the dim land's +dissolution. It must have happened after the terrible force of the +explosion had spent itself, before Thag dared move even himself through +the walls of changing energy into his own far land again.</p> + +<p>Smith sighed and lifted a hand to his throbbing head, rising slowly to +his feet. What time had elapsed he could not guess, but he must assume +that the Patrol still searched for him. Wearily he set out across the +circle of havoc toward the nearest shelter which Illar offered. The dust +rose in ghostly, moonlit clouds under his feet.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Tree of Life, by Catherine Lucille Moore + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TREE OF LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 32850-h.htm or 32850-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/8/5/32850/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Tree of Life + +Author: Catherine Lucille Moore + +Release Date: June 17, 2010 [EBook #32850] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TREE OF LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + The Tree of Life + + By C. L. MOORE + +[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Weird Tales October +1936. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + +[Sidenote: _A gripping tale of the planet Mars and the terrible +monstrosity that called its victims to it from afar--a tale of Northwest +Smith_] + + +Over time-ruined Illar the searching planes swooped and circled. +Northwest Smith, peering up at them with a steel-pale stare from the +shelter of a half-collapsed temple, thought of vultures wheeling above +carrion. All day long now they had been raking these ruins for him. +Presently, he knew, thirst would begin to parch his throat and hunger to +gnaw at him. There was neither food nor water in these ancient Martian +ruins, and he knew that it could be only a matter of time before the +urgencies of his own body would drive him out to signal those wheeling +Patrol ships and trade his hard-won liberty for food and drink. He +crouched lower under the shadow of the temple arch and cursed the +accuracy of the Patrol gunner whose flame-blast had caught his dodging +ship just at the edge of Illar's ruins. + +Presently it occurred to him that in most Martian temples of the ancient +days an ornamental well had stood in the outer court for the benefit of +wayfarers. Of course all water in it would be a million years dry now, +but for lack of anything better to do he rose from his seat at the edge +of the collapsed central dome and made his cautious way by still intact +corridors toward the front of the temple. He paused in a tangle of +wreckage at the courtyard's edge and looked out across the sun-drenched +expanse of pavement toward that ornate well that once had served +travelers who passed by here in the days when Mars was a green planet. + +It was an unusually elaborate well, and amazingly well preserved. Its +rim had been inlaid with a mosaic pattern whose symbolism must once have +borne deep meaning, and above it in a great fan of time-defying bronze +an elaborate grille-work portrayed the inevitable tree-of-life pattern +which so often appears in the symbolism of the three worlds. Smith +looked at it a bit incredulously from his shelter, it was so +miraculously preserved amidst all this chaos of broken stone, casting a +delicate tracery of shadow on the sunny pavement as perfectly as it must +have done a million years ago when dusty travelers paused here to drink. +He could picture them filing in at noontime through the great gates +that---- + +The vision vanished abruptly as his questing eyes made the circle of the +ruined walls. There had been no gate. He could not find a trace of it +anywhere around the outer wall of the court. The only entrance here, as +nearly as he could tell from the foundations that remained, had been the +door in whose ruins he now stood. Queer. This must have been a private +court, then, its great grille-crowned well reserved for the use of the +priests. Or wait--had there not been a priest-king Illar after whom the +city was named? A wizard-king, so legend said, who ruled temple as well +as palace with an iron hand. This elaborately patterned well, of +material royal enough to withstand the weight of ages, might well have +been sacrosanct for the use of that long-dead monarch. It might---- + + * * * * * + +Across the sun-bright pavement swept the shadow of a plane. Smith dodged +back into deeper hiding while the ship circled low over the courtyard. +And it was then, as he crouched against a crumbled wall and waited, +motionless, for the danger to pass, that he became aware for the first +time of a sound that startled him so he could scarcely credit his +ears--a recurrent sound, choked and sorrowful--the sound of a woman +sobbing. + +The incongruity of it made him forgetful for a moment of the peril +hovering overhead in the sun-hot outdoors. The dimness of the temple +ruins became a living and vital place for that moment, throbbing with +the sound of tears. He looked about half in incredulity, wondering if +hunger and thirst were playing tricks on him already, or if these broken +halls might be haunted by a million-years-old sorrow that wept along the +corridors to drive its hearers mad. There were tales of such haunters in +some of Mars' older ruins. The hair prickled faintly at the back of his +neck as he laid a hand on the butt of his force-gun and commenced a +cautious prowl toward the source of the muffled noise. + +Presently he caught a flash of white, luminous in the gloom of these +ruined walls, and went forward with soundless steps, eyes narrowed in +the effort to make out what manner of creature this might be that wept +alone in time-forgotten ruins. It was a woman. Or it had the dim +outlines of a woman, huddled against an angle of fallen walls and veiled +in a fabulous shower of long dark hair. But there was something +uncannily odd about her. He could not focus his pale stare upon her +outlines. She was scarcely more than a luminous blot of whiteness in the +gloom, shimmering with a look of unreality which the sound of her sobs +denied. + + * * * * * + +Before he could make up his mind just what to do, something must have +warned the weeping girl that she was no longer alone, for the sound of +her tears checked suddenly and she lifted her head, turning to him a +face no more distinguishable than her body's outlines. He made no effort +to resolve the blurred features into visibility, for out of that +luminous mask burned two eyes that caught his with an almost perceptible +impact and gripped them in a stare from which he could not have turned +if he would. + +They were the most amazing eyes he had ever met, colored like moonstone, +milkily translucent, so that they looked almost blind. And that magnetic +stare held him motionless. In the instant that she gripped him with that +fixed, moonstone look he felt oddly as if a tangible bond were taut +between them. + +Then she spoke, and he wondered if his mind, after all, had begun to +give way in the haunted loneliness of dead Illar; for though the words +she spoke fell upon his ears in a gibberish of meaningless sounds, yet +in his brain a message formed with a clarity that far transcended the +halting communication of words. And her milkily colored eyes bored into +his with a fierce intensity. + +"I'm lost--I'm lost----" wailed the voice in his brain. + +A rush of sudden tears brimmed the compelling eyes, veiling their +brilliance. And he was free again with that clouding of the moonstone +surfaces. Her voice wailed, but the words were meaningless and no +knowledge formed in his brain to match them. Stiffly he stepped back a +pace and looked down at her, a feeling of helpless incredulity rising +within him. For he still could not focus directly upon the shining +whiteness of her, and nothing save those moonstone eyes were clear to +him. + +The girl sprang to her feet and rose on tiptoe, gripping his shoulders +with urgent hands. Again the blind intensity of her eyes took hold of +his, with a force almost as tangible as the clutch of her hands; again +that stream of intelligence poured into his brain, strongly, pleadingly. + +"Please, please take me back! I'm so frightened--I can't find my +way--oh, please!" + +He blinked down at her, his dazed mind gradually realizing the basic +facts of what was happening. Obviously her milky, unseeing eyes held a +magnetic power that carried her thoughts to him without the need of a +common speech. And they were the eyes of a powerful mind, the outlets +from which a stream of fierce energy poured into his brain. Yet the +words they conveyed were the words of a terrified and helpless girl. A +strong sense of wariness was rising in him as he considered the +incongruity of speech and power, both of which were beating upon him +more urgently with every breath. The mind of a forceful and +strong-willed woman, carrying the sobs of a frightened girl. There was +no sincerity in it. + +"Please, please!" cried her impatience in his brain. "Help me! Guide me +back!" + +"Back where?" he heard his own voice asking. + +"The Tree!" wailed that queer speech in his brain, while gibberish was +all his ears heard and the moonstone stare transfixed him strongly. "The +Tree of Life! Oh, take me back to the shadow of the Tree!" + +A vision of the grille-ornamented well leaped into his memory. It was +the only tree symbol he could think of just then. But what possible +connection could there be between the well and the lost girl--if she was +lost? Another wail in that unknown tongue, another anguished shake of +his shoulders, brought a sudden resolution into his groping mind. There +could be no harm in leading her back to the well, to whose grille she +must surely be referring. And strong curiosity was growing in his mind. +Much more than met the eye was concealed in this queer incident. And a +wild guess had flashed through his mind that perhaps she might have come +from some subterranean world into which the well descended. It would +explain her luminous pallor, if not her blurriness; and, too, her eyes +did not seem to function in the light. There was a much more incredible +explanation of her presence, but he was not to know it for a few minutes +yet. + +"Come along," he said, taking the clutching hands gently from his +shoulders. "I'll lead you to the well." + +She sighed in a deep gust of relief and dropped her compelling eyes from +his, murmuring in that strange, gabbling tongue what must have been +thanks. He took her by the hand and turned toward the ruined archway of +the door. + +Against his fingers her flesh was cool and firm. To the touch she was +tangible, but even thus near, his eyes refused to focus upon the cloudy +opacity of her body, the dark blur of her streaming hair. Nothing but +those burning, blinded eyes were strong enough to pierce the veil that +parted them. + +She stumbled along at his side over the rough floor of the temple, +saying nothing more, panting with eagerness to return to her +incomprehensible "tree." How much of that eagerness was assumed Smith +still could not be quite sure. When they reached the door he halted her +for a moment, scanning the sky for danger. Apparently the ships had +finished with this quarter of the city, for he could see two or three of +them half a mile away, hovering low over Illar's northern section. He +could risk it without much peril. He led the girl cautiously out into +the sun-hot court. + + * * * * * + +She could not have known by sight that they neared the well, but when +they were within twenty paces of it she flung up her blurred head +suddenly and tugged at his hand. It was she who led him that last +stretch which parted the two from the well. In the sun the shadow +tracery of the grille's symbolic pattern lay vividly outlined on the +ground. The girl gave a little gasp of delight. She dropped his hand and +ran forward three short steps, and plunged into the very center of that +shadowy pattern on the ground. And what happened then was too incredible +to believe. + +The pattern ran over her like a garment, curving to the curve of her +body in the way all shadows do. But as she stood there striped and laced +with the darkness of it, there came a queer shifting in the lines of +black tracery, a subtle, inexplicable movement to one side. And with +that motion she vanished. It was exactly as if that shifting had moved +her out of one world into another. Stupidly Smith stared at the spot +from which she had disappeared. + +Then several things happened almost simultaneously. The zoom of a plane +broke suddenly into the quiet, a black shadow dipped low over the +rooftops, and Smith, too late, realized that he stood defenseless in +full view of the searching ships. There was only one way out, and that +was too fantastic to put faith in, but he had no time to hesitate. With +one leap he plunged full into the midst of the shadow of the tree of +life. + +Its tracery flowed round him, molding its pattern to his body. And +outside the boundaries everything executed a queer little sidewise dip +and slipped in the most extraordinary manner, like an optical illusion, +into quite another scene. There was no intervention of blankness. It was +as if he looked through the bars of a grille upon a picture which +without warning slipped sidewise, while between the bars appeared +another scene, a curious, dim landscape, gray as if with the twilight of +early evening. The air had an oddly thickened look, through which he saw +the quiet trees and the flower-spangled grass of the place with a queer, +unreal blending, like the landscape in a tapestry, all its outlines +blurred. + +In the midst of this tapestried twilight the burning whiteness of the +girl he had followed blazed like a flame. She had paused a few steps +away and stood waiting, apparently quite sure that he would come after. +He grinned a little to himself as he realized it, knowing that curiosity +must almost certainly have driven him in her wake even if the necessity +for shelter had not compelled his following. + +She was clearly visible now, in this thickened dimness--visible, and +very lovely, and a little unreal. She shone with a burning clarity, the +only vivid thing in the whole twilit world. Eyes upon that blazing +whiteness, Smith stepped forward, scarcely realizing that he had moved. + +Slowly he crossed the dark grass toward her. That grass was soft +under-foot, and thick with small, low-blooming flowers of a shining +pallor. Botticelli painted such spangled swards for the feet of his +angels. Upon it the girl's bare feet gleamed whiter than the blossoms. +She wore no garment but the royal mantle of her hair, sweeping about her +in a cloak of shining darkness that had a queer, unreal tinge of purple +in that low light. It brushed her ankles in its fabulous length. From +the hood of it she watched Smith coming toward her, a smile on her pale +mouth and a light blazing in the deeps of her moonstone eyes. She was +not blind now, nor frightened. She stretched out her hand to him +confidently. + +"It is my turn now to lead you," she smiled. As before, the words were +gibberish, but the penetrating stare of those strange white eyes gave +them a meaning in the depths of his brain. + +Automatically his hand went out to hers. He was a little dazed, and her +eyes were very compelling. Her fingers twined in his and she set off +over the flowery grass, pulling him beside her. He did not ask where +they were going. Lost in the dreamy spell of the still, gray, enchanted +place, he felt no need for words. He was beginning to see more clearly +in the odd, blurring twilight that ran the outlines of things together +in that queer, tapestried manner. And he puzzled in a futile, muddled +way as he went on over what sort of land he had come into. Overhead was +darkness, paling into twilight near the ground, so that when he looked +up he was staring into bottomless deeps of starless night. + +Trees and flowering shrubs and the flower-starred grass stretched +emptily about them in the thick, confusing gloom of the place. He could +see only a little distance through that dim air. It was as if they +walked a strip of tapestried twilight in some unlighted dream. And the +girl, with her lovely, luminous body and richly colored robe of hair was +like a woman in a tapestry too, unreal and magical. + +After a while, when he had become a little adjusted to the queerness of +the whole scene, he began to notice furtive movements in the shrubs and +trees they passed. Things flickered too swiftly for him to catch their +outlines, but from the tail of his eye he was aware of motion, and +somehow of eyes that watched. That sensation was a familiar one to him, +and he kept an uneasy gaze on those shiftings in the shrubbery as they +went on. Presently he caught a watcher in full view between bush and +tree, and saw that it was a man, a little, furtive, dark-skinned man who +dodged hastily back into cover again before Smith's eyes could do more +than take in the fact of his existence. + +After that he knew what to expect and could make them out more easily: +little, darting people with big eyes that shone with a queer, sorrowful +darkness from their small, frightened faces as they scuttled through the +bushes, dodging always just out of plain sight among the leaves. He +could hear the soft rustle of their passage, and once or twice when they +passed near a clump of shrubbery he thought he caught the echo of little +whispering calls, gentle as the rustle of leaves and somehow full of a +strange warning note so clear that he caught it even amid the murmur of +their speech. Warning calls, and little furtive hiders in the leaves, +and a landscape of tapestried blurring carpeted with Botticelli +flower-strewn sward. It was all a dream. He felt quite sure of that. + + * * * * * + +It was a long while before curiosity awakened in him sufficiently to +make him break the stillness. But at last he asked dreamily, + +"Where are we going?" + +The girl seemed to understand that without the necessity of the bond her +hypnotic eyes made, for she turned and caught his eyes in a white stare +and answered, + +"To Thag. Thag desires you." + +"What is Thag?" + +In answer to that she launched without preliminary upon a little +singsong monolog of explanation whose stereotyped formula made him +faintly uneasy with the thought that it must have been made very often +to attain the status of a set speech; made to many men, perhaps, whom +Thag had desired. And what became of them afterward? he wondered. But +the girl was speaking. + +"Many ages ago there dwelt in Illar the great King Illar for whom the +city was named. He was a magician of mighty power, but not mighty enough +to fulfill all his ambitions. So by his arts he called up out of +darkness the being known as Thag, and with him struck a bargain. By that +bargain Thag was to give of his limitless power, serving Illar all the +days of Illar's life, and in return the king was to create a land for +Thag's dwelling-place and people it with slaves and furnish a priestess +to tend Thag's needs. This is that land. I am that priestess, the latest +of a long line of women born to serve Thag. The tree-people are his--his +lesser servants. + +"I have spoken softly so that the tree-people do not hear, for to them +Thag is the center and focus of creation, the end and beginning of all +life. But to you I have told the truth." + +"But what does Thag want of me?" + +"It is not for Thag's servants to question Thag." + +"Then what becomes, afterward, of the men Thag desires?" he pursued. + +"You must ask Thag that." + +She turned her eyes away as she spoke, snapping the mental bond that had +flowed between them with a suddenness that left Smith dizzy. He went on +at her side more slowly, pulling back a little on the tug of her +fingers. By degrees the sense of dreaminess was fading, and alarm began +to stir in the deeps of his mind. After all, there was no reason why he +need let this blank-eyed priestess lead him up to the very maw of her +god. She had lured him into this land by what he knew now to have been a +trick; might she not have worse tricks than that in store for him? + +She held him, after all, by nothing stronger than the clasp of her +fingers, if he could keep his eyes turned from hers. Therein lay her +real power, but he could fight it if he chose. And he began to hear more +clearly than ever the queer note of warning in the rustling whispers of +the tree-folk who still fluttered in and out of sight among the leaves. +The twilight place had taken on menace and evil. + +Suddenly he made up his mind. He stopped, breaking the clasp of the +girl's hand. + +"I'm not going," he said. + +She swung round in a sweep of richly tinted hair, words jetting from her +in a gush of incoherence. But he dared not meet her eyes, and they +conveyed no meaning to him. Resolutely he turned away, ignoring her +voice, and set out to retrace the way they had come. She called after +him once, in a high, clear voice that somehow held a note as warning as +that in the rustling voices of the tree-people, but he kept on doggedly, +not looking back. She laughed then, sweetly and scornfully, a laugh that +echoed uneasily in his mind long after the sound of it had died upon the +twilit air. + +After a while he glanced back over one shoulder, half expecting to see +the luminous dazzle of her body still glowing in the dim glade where he +had left her; but the blurred tapestry-landscape was quite empty. + +He went on in the midst of a silence so deep it hurt his ears, and in a +solitude unhaunted even by the shy presences of the tree-folk. They had +vanished with the fire-bright girl, and the whole twilight land was +empty save for himself. He plodded on across the dark grass, crushing +the upturned flower-faces under his boots and asking himself wearily if +he could be mad. There seemed little other explanation for this hushed +and tapestried solitude that had swallowed him up. In that thunderous +quiet, in that deathly solitude, he went on. + + * * * * * + +When he had walked for what seemed to him much longer than it should +have taken to reach his starting-point, and still no sign of an exit +appeared, he began to wonder if there were any way out of the gray land +of Thag. For the first time he realized that he had come through no +tangible gateway. He had only stepped out of a shadow, and--now that he +thought of it--there were no shadows here. The grayness swallowed +everything up, leaving the landscape oddly flat, like a badly drawn +picture. He looked about helplessly, quite lost now and not sure in what +direction he should be facing, for there was nothing here by which to +know directions. The trees and shrubs and the starry grass still +stretched about him, uncertainly outlined in that changeless dusk. They +seemed to go on for ever. + +But he plodded ahead, unwilling to stop because of a queer tension in +the air, somehow as if all the blurred trees and shrubs were waiting in +breathless anticipation, centering upon his stumbling figure. But all +trace of animate life had vanished with the disappearance of the +priestess' white-glowing figure. Head down, paying little heed to where +he was going, he went on over the flowery sward. + +An odd sense of voids about him startled Smith at last out of his +lethargic plodding. He lifted his head. He stood just at the edge of a +line of trees, dim and indistinct in the unchanging twilight. Beyond +them--he came to himself with a jerk and stared incredulously. Beyond +them the grass ran down to nothingness, merging by imperceptible degrees +into a streaked and arching void--not the sort of emptiness into which a +material body could fall, but a solid _nothing_, curving up toward the +dark zenith as the inside of a sphere curves. No physical thing could +have entered there. It was too utterly void, an inviolable emptiness +which no force could invade. + +He stared up along the inward arch of that curving, impassable wall. +Here, then, was the edge of the queer land Illar had wrested out of +space itself. This arch must be the curving of solid space which had +been bent awry to enclose the magical land. There was no escape this +way. He could not even bring himself to approach any nearer to that +streaked and arching blank. He could not have said why, but it woke in +him an inner disquiet so strong that after a moment's staring he turned +his eyes away. + +Presently he shrugged and set off along the inside of the line of trees +which parted him from the space-wall. Perhaps there might be a break +somewhere. It was a forlorn hope, but the best that offered. Wearily he +stumbled on over the flowery grass. + +How long he had gone on along that almost imperceptibly curving line of +border he could not have said, but after a timeless interval of gray +solitude he gradually became aware that a tiny rustling and whispering +among the leaves had been growing louder by degrees for some time. He +looked up. In and out among the trees which bordered that solid wall of +nothingness little, indistinguishable figures were flitting. The +tree-men had returned. Queerly grateful for their presence, he went on a +bit more cheerfully, paying no heed to their timid dartings to and fro, +for Smith was wise in the ways of wild life. + +Presently, when they saw how little heed he paid them, they began to +grow bolder, their whispers louder. And among those rustling voices he +thought he was beginning to catch threads of familiarity. Now and again +a word reached his ears that he seemed to recognize, lost amidst the +gibberish of their speech. He kept his head down and his hands quiet, +plodding along with a cunning stillness that began to bear results. + +From the corner of his eye he could see that a little dark tree-man had +darted out from cover and paused midway between bush and tree to inspect +the queer, tall stranger. Nothing happened to this daring venturer, and +soon another risked a pause in the open to stare at the quiet walker +among the trees. In a little while a small crowd of the tree-people was +moving slowly parallel with his course, staring with all the avid +curiosity of wild things at Smith's plodding figure. And among them the +rustling whispers grew louder. + +Presently the ground dipped down into a little hollow ringed with trees. +It was a bit darker here than it had been on the higher level, and as he +went down the slope of its side he saw that among the underbrush which +filled it were cunningly hidden huts twined together out of the living +bushes. Obviously the hollow was a tiny village where the tree-folk +dwelt. + +He was surer of this when they began to grow bolder as he went down into +the dimness of the place. The whispers shrilled a little, and the +boldest among his watchers ran almost at his elbow, twittering their +queer, broken speech in hushed syllables whose familiarity still +bothered him with its haunting echo of words he knew. When he had +reached the center of the hollow he became aware that the little folk +had spread out in a ring to surround him. Wherever he looked their +small, anxious faces and staring eyes confronted him. He grinned to +himself and came to a halt, waiting gravely. + +None of them seemed quite brave enough to constitute himself spokesman, +but among several a hurried whispering broke out in which he caught the +words "Thag" and "danger" and "beware." He recognized the meaning of +these words without placing in his mind their origins in some tongue he +knew. He knit his sun-bleached brows and concentrated harder, striving +to wrest from that curious, murmuring whisper some hint of its original +root. He had a smattering of more tongues than he could have counted +offhand, and it was hard to place these scattered words among any one +speech. + +But the word "Thag" had a sound like that of the very ancient dryland +tongue, which upon Mars is considered at once the oldest and the most +uncouth of all the planet's languages. And with that clue to guide him +he presently began to catch other syllables which were remotely like +syllables from the dryland speech. They were almost unrecognizable, far, +far more ancient than the very oldest versions of the tongue he had ever +heard repeated, almost primitive in their crudity and simplicity. And +for a moment the sheerest awe came over him, as he realized the +significance of what he listened to. + + * * * * * + +The dryland race today is a handful of semi-brutes, degenerate from the +ages of past time when they were a mighty people at the apex of an +almost forgotten glory. That day is millions of years gone now, too far +in the past to have record save in the vaguest folklore. Yet here was a +people who spoke the rudiments of that race's tongue as it must have +been spoken in the race's dim beginnings, perhaps a million years +earlier even than that immemorial time of their triumph. The reeling of +millenniums set Smith's mind awhirl with the effort at compassing their +span. + +There was another connotation in the speaking of that tongue by these +timid bush-dwellers, too. It must mean that the forgotten wizard king, +Illar, had peopled his sinister, twilight land with the ancestors of +today's dryland dwellers. If they shared the same tongue they must share +the same lineage. And humanity's remorseless adaptability had done the +rest. + +It had been no kinder here than in the outside world, where the ancient +plains-men who had roamed Mars' green prairies had dwindled with their +dying plains, degenerating at last into a shrunken, leather-skinned +bestiality. For here that same race root had declined into these tiny, +slinking creatures with their dusky skins and great, staring eyes and +their voices that never rose above a whisper. What tragedies must lie +behind that gradual degeneration! + +All about him the whispers still ran. He was beginning to suspect that +through countless ages of hiding and murmuring those voices must have +lost the ability to speak aloud. And he wondered with a little inward +chill what terror it was which had transformed a free and fearless +people into these tiny wild things whispering in the underbrush. + +The little anxious voices had shrilled into vehemence now, all of them +chattering together in their queer, soft, rustling whispers. Looking +back later upon that timeless space he had passed in the hollow, Smith +remembered it as some curious nightmare--dimness and tapestried +blurring, and a hush like death over the whole twilight land, and the +timid voices whispering, whispering, eloquent with terror and warning. + +He groped back among his memories and brought forth a phrase or two +remembered from long ago, an archaic rendering of the immemorial tongue +they spoke. It was the simplest version he could remember of the complex +speech now used, but he knew that to them it must sound fantastically +strange. Instinctively he whispered as he spoke it, feeling like an +actor in a play as he mouthed the ancient idiom, + +"I--I cannot understand. Speak--more slowly----" + +A torrent of words greeted this rendering of their tongue. Then there +was a great deal of hushing and hissing, and presently two or three +between them began laboriously to recite an involved speech, one +syllable at a time. Always two or more shared the task. Never in his +converse with them did he address anyone directly. Ages of terror had +bred all directness out of them. + +"Thag," they said. "Thag, the terrible--Thag, the omnipotent--Thag, the +unescapable. Beware of Thag." + +For a moment Smith stood quiet, grinning down at them despite himself. +There must not be too much of intelligence left among this branch of the +race, either, for surely such a warning was superfluous. Yet they had +mastered their agonies of timidity to give it. All virtue could not yet +have been bred out of them, then. They still had kindness and a sort of +desperate courage rooted deep in fear. + +"What is Thag?" he managed to inquire, voicing the archaic syllables +uncertainly. And they must have understood the meaning if not the +phraseology, for another spate of whispered tumult burst from the +clustering tribe. Then, as before, several took up the task of +answering. + +"Thag--Thag, the end and the beginning, the center of creation. When +Thag breathes the world trembles. The earth was made for Thag's +dwelling-place. All things are Thag's. Oh, beware! Beware!" + +This much he pieced together out of their diffuse whisperings, catching +up the fragments of words he knew and fitting them into the pattern. + +"What--what is the danger?" he managed to ask. + +"Thag--hungers. Thag must be fed. It is we who--feed--him, but there are +times when he desires other food than us. It is then he sends his +priestess forth to lure--food--in. Oh, beware of Thag!" + +"You mean then, that she--the priestess--brought me in for--food?" + +A chorus of grave, murmuring affirmatives. + +"Then why did she leave me?" + +"There is no escape from Thag. Thag is the center of creation. All +things are Thag's. When he calls, you must answer. When he hungers, he +will have you. Beware of Thag!" + +Smith considered that for a moment in silence. In the main he felt +confident that he had understood their warning correctly, and he had +little reason to doubt that they knew whereof they spoke. Thag might not +be the center of the universe, but if they said he could call a victim +from anywhere in the land, Smith was not disposed to doubt it. The +priestess' willingness to let him leave her unhindered, yes, even her +scornful laughter as he looked back, told the same story. Whatever Thag +might be, his power in this land could not be doubted. He made up his +mind suddenly what he must do, and turned to the breathlessly waiting +little folk. + +"Which way--lies Thag?" he asked. + +A score of dark, thin arms pointed. Smith turned his head speculatively +toward the spot they indicated. In this changeless twilight all sense of +direction had long since left him, but he marked the line as well as he +could by the formation of the trees, then turned to the little people +with a ceremonious farewell rising to his lips. + +"My thanks for----" he began, to be interrupted by a chorus of +whispering cries of protest. They seemed to sense his intention, and +their pleadings were frantic. A panic anxiety for him glowed upon every +little terrified face turned up to his, and their eyes were wide with +protest and terror. Helplessly he looked down. + +"I--I must go," he tried stumblingly to say. "My only chance is to take +Thag unawares, before he sends for me." + +He could not know if they understood. Their chattering went on +undiminished, and they even went so far as to lay tiny hands on him, as +if they would prevent him by force from seeking out the terror of their +lives. + +"No, no, no!" they wailed murmurously. "You do not know what it is you +seek! You do not know Thag! Stay here! Beware of Thag!" + + * * * * * + +A little prickling of unease went down Smith's back as he listened. Thag +must be very terrible indeed if even half this alarm had foundation. And +to be quite frank with himself, he would greatly have preferred to +remain here in the hidden quiet of the hollow, with its illusion of +shelter, for as long as he was allowed to stay. But he was not of the +stuff that yields very easily to its own terrors, and hope burned +strongly in him still. So he squared his broad shoulders and turned +resolutely in the direction the tree-folk had indicated. + +When they saw that he meant to go, their protests sank to a wail of +bitter grieving. With that sound moaning behind him he went up out of +the hollow, like a man setting forth to the music of his own dirge. A +few of the bravest went with him a little way, flitting through the +underbrush and darting from tree to tree in a timidity so deeply +ingrained that even when no immediate peril threatened they dared not go +openly through the twilight. + +Their presence was comforting to Smith as he went on. A futile desire to +help the little terror-ridden tribe was rising in him, a useless +gratitude for their warning and their friendliness, their genuine +grieving at his departure and their odd, paradoxical bravery even in the +midst of hereditary terror. But he knew that he could do nothing for +them, when he was not at all sure he could even save himself. Something +of their panic had communicated itself to him, and he advanced with a +sinking at the pit of his stomach. Fear of the unknown is so poignant a +thing, feeding on its own terror, that he found his hands beginning to +shake a little and his throat going dry as he went on. + + * * * * * + +The rustling and whispering among the bushes dwindled as his followers +one by one dropped away, the bravest staying the longest, but even they +failing in courage as Smith advanced steadily in that direction from +which all their lives they had been taught to turn their faces. +Presently he realized that he was alone once more. He went on more +quickly, anxious to come face to face with this horror of the twilight +and dispel at least the fearfulness of its mystery. + + * * * * * + +The silence was like death. Not a breeze stirred the leaves, and the +only sound was his own breathing, the heavy thud of his own heart. +Somehow he felt sure that he was coming nearer to his goal. The hush +seemed to confirm it. He loosened the force-gun at his thigh. + +In that changeless twilight the ground was sloping down once more into a +broader hollow. He descended slowly, every sense alert for danger, not +knowing if Thag was beast or human or elemental, visible or invisible. +The trees were beginning to thin. He knew that he had almost reached his +goal. + +He paused at the edge of the last line of trees. A clearing spread out +before him at the bottom of the hollow, quiet in the dim, translucent +air. He could focus directly upon no outlines anywhere, for the +tapestried blurring of the place. But when he saw what stood in the very +center of the clearing he stopped dead-still, like one turned to stone, +and a shock of utter cold went chilling through him. Yet he could not +have said why. + +For in the clearing's center stood the Tree of Life. He had met the +symbol too often in patterns and designs not to recognize it, but here +that fabulous thing was living, growing, actually springing up from a +rooted firmness in the spangled grass as any tree might spring. Yet it +could not be real. Its thin brown trunk, of no recognizable substance, +smooth and gleaming, mounted in the traditional spiral; its twelve +fantastically curving branches arched delicately outward from the +central stem. It was bare of leaves. No foliage masked the serpentine +brown spiral of the trunk. But at the tip of each symbolic branch +flowered a blossom of bloody rose so vivid he could scarcely focus his +dazzled eyes upon them. + +This tree alone of all objects in the dim land was sharply distinct to +the eye--terribly distinct, remorselessly clear. No words can describe +the amazing menace that dwelt among its branches. Smith's flesh crept as +he stared, yet he could not for all his staring make out why peril was +so eloquent there. To all appearances here stood only a fabulous symbol +miraculously come to life; yet danger breathed out from it so strongly +that Smith felt the hair lifting on his neck as he stared. + + * * * * * + +It was no ordinary danger. A nameless, choking, paralyzed panic was +swelling in his throat as he gazed upon the perilous beauty of the Tree. +Somehow the arches and curves of its branches seemed to limn a pattern +so dreadful that his heart beat faster as he gazed upon it. But he could +not guess why, though somehow the answer was hovering just out of reach +of his conscious mind. From that first glimpse of it his instincts +shuddered like a shying stallion, yet reason still looked in vain for an +answer. + + * * * * * + +Nor was the Tree merely a vegetable growth. It was alive, terribly, +ominously alive. He could not have said how he knew that, for it stood +motionless in its empty clearing, not a branch trembling, yet in its +immobility more awfully vital than any animate thing. The very sight of +it woke in Smith an insane urging to flight, to put worlds between +himself and this inexplicably dreadful thing. + + * * * * * + +Crazy impulses stirred in his brain, coming to insane birth at the +calling of the Tree's peril--the desperate need to shut out the sight of +that thing that was blasphemy, to put out his own sight rather than gaze +longer upon the perilous grace of its branches, to slit his own throat +that he might not need to dwell in the same world which housed so +frightful a sight as the Tree. + + * * * * * + +All this was a mad battering in his brain. The strength of him was +enough to isolate it in a far corner of his consciousness, where it +seethed and shrieked half heeded while he turned the cool control which +the spaceways life had taught him to the solution of this urgent +question. But even so his hand was moist and shaking on his gun-butt, +and the breath rasped in his dry throat. + +Why--he asked himself in a determined groping after steadiness--should +the mere sight of a tree, even so fabulous a one as this, rouse that +insane panic in the gazer? What peril could dwell invisibly in a tree so +frightful that the living horror of it could drive a man mad with the +very fact of its unseen presence? He clenched his teeth hard and stared +resolutely at that terrible beauty in the clearing, fighting down the +sick panic that rose in his throat as his eyes forced themselves to +dwell upon the Tree. + +Gradually the revulsion subsided. After a nightmare of striving he +mustered the strength to force it down far enough to allow reason's +entry once more. Sternly holding down that frantic terror under the +surface of consciousness, he stared resolutely at the Tree. And he knew +that this was Thag. + +It could be nothing else, for surely two such dreadful things could not +dwell in one land. It must be Thag, and he could understand now the +immemorial terror in which the tree-folk held it, but he did not yet +grasp in what way it threatened them physically. The inexplicable +dreadfulness of it was a menace to the mind's very existence, but surely +a rooted tree, however terrible to look at, could wield little actual +danger. + +As he reasoned, his eyes were seeking restlessly among the branches, +searching for the answer to their dreadfulness. After all, this thing +wore the aspect of an old pattern, and in that pattern there was nothing +dreadful. The tree of life had made up the design upon that well-top in +Illar through whose shadow he had entered here, and nothing in that +bronze grille-work had roused terror. Then why----? What living menace +dwelt invisibly among these branches to twist them into curves of +horror? + +A fragment of old verse drifted through his mind as he stared in +perplexity: + + What immortal hand or eye + Could frame thy fearful symmetry? + +And for the first time the true significance of a "fearful symmetry" +broke upon him. Truly a more than human agency must have arched these +subtle curves so delicately into dreadfulness, into such an awful beauty +that the very sight of it made those atavistic terrors he was so sternly +holding down leap in a gibbering terror. + +A tremor rippled over the Tree. Smith froze rigid, staring with startled +eyes. No breath of wind had stirred through the clearing, but the Tree +was moving with a slow, serpentine grace, writhing its branches +leisurely in a horrible travesty of voluptuous enjoyment. And upon their +tips the blood-red flowers were spreading like cobra's hoods, swelling +and stretching their petals out and glowing with a hue so eye-piercingly +vivid that it transcended the bounds of color and blazed forth like pure +light. + +But it was not toward Smith that they stirred. They were arching out +from the central trunk toward the far side of the clearing. After a +moment Smith tore his eyes away from the indescribably dreadful +flexibility of those branches and looked to see the cause of their +writhing. + +A blaze of luminous white had appeared among the trees across the +clearing. The priestess had returned. He watched her pacing slowly +toward the Tree, walking with a precise and delicate grace as liquidly +lovely as the motion of the Tree. Her fabulous hair swung down about her +in a swaying robe that rippled at every step away from the moon-white +beauty of her body. Straight toward the Tree she paced, and all the +blossoms glowed more vividly at her nearness, the branches stretching +toward her, rippling with eagerness. + +Priestess though she was, he could not believe that she was going to +come within touch of that Tree the very sight of which roused such a +panic instinct of revulsion in every fiber of him. But she did not +swerve or slow in her advance. Walking delicately over the flowery +grass, arrogantly luminous in the twilight, so that her body was the +center and focus of any landscape she walked in, she neared her horribly +eager god. + +Now she was under the Tree, and its trunk had writhed down over her and +she was lifting her arms like a girl to her lover. With a gliding +slowness the flame-tipped branches slid round her. In that incredible +embrace she stood immobile for a long moment, the Tree arching down with +all its curling limbs, the girl straining upward, her head thrown back +and the mantle of her hair swinging free of her body as she lifted her +face to the quivering blossoms. The branches gathered her closer in +their embrace. Now the blossoms arched near, curving down all about her, +touching her very gently, twisting their blazing faces toward the focus +of her moon-white body. One poised directly above her face, trembled, +brushed her mouth lightly. And the Tree's tremor ran unbroken through +the body of the girl it clasped. + + * * * * * + +The incredible dreadfulness of that embrace was suddenly more than Smith +could bear. All his terrors, crushed down with so stern a self-control, +without warning burst all bounds and rushed over him in a flood of blind +revulsion. A whimper choked up in his throat and quite involuntarily he +swung round and plunged into the shielding trees, hands to his eyes in a +futile effort to blot out the sight of lovely horror behind him whose +vividness was burnt upon his very brain. + +Heedlessly he blundered through the trees, no thought in his +terror-blank mind save the necessity to run, run, run until he could run +no more. He had given up all attempt at reason and rationality; he no +longer cared why the beauty of the Tree was so dreadful. He only knew +that until all space lay between him and its symmetry he must run and +run and run. + +What brought that frenzied madness to an end he never knew. When sanity +returned to him he was lying face down on the flower-spangled sward in a +silence so deep that his ears ached with its heaviness. The grass was +cool against his cheek. For a moment he fought the back-flow of +knowledge into his emptied mind. When it came, the memory of that horror +he had fled from, he started up with a wild thing's swiftness and glared +around pale-eyed into the unchanging dusk. He was alone. Not even a +rustle in the leaves spoke of the tree-folk's presence. + +For a moment he stood there alert, wondering what had roused him, +wondering what would come next. He was not left long in doubt. The +answer was shrilling very, very faintly through that aching quiet, an +infinitesimally tiny, unthinkably far-away murmur which yet pierced his +ear-drums with the sharpness of tiny needles. Breathless, he strained in +listening. Swiftly the sound grew louder. It deepened upon the silence, +sharpened and shrilled until the thin blade of it was vibrating in the +center of his innermost brain. + +And still it grew, swelling louder and louder through the twilight world +in cadences that were rounding into a queer sort of music and taking on +such an unbearable sweetness that Smith pressed his hands over his ears +in a futile attempt to shut the sound away. He could not. It rang in +steadily deepening intensities through every fiber of his being, +piercing him with thousands of tiny music-blades that quivered in his +very soul with intolerable beauty. And he thought he sensed in the +piercing strength of it a vibration of queer, unnamable power far +mightier than anything ever generated by man, the dim echo of some +cosmic dynamo's hum. + + * * * * * + +The sound grew sweeter as it strengthened, with a queer, inexplicable +sweetness unlike any music he had ever heard before, rounder and fuller +and more complete than any melody made up of separate notes. Stronger +and stronger he felt the certainty that it was the song of some mighty +power, humming and throbbing and deepening through the twilight until +the whole dim land was one trembling reservoir of sound that filled his +entire consciousness with its throbbing, driving out all other thoughts +and realizations, until he was no more than a shell that vibrated in +answer to the calling. + +For it was a calling. No one could listen to that intolerable sweetness +without knowing the necessity to seek its source. Remotely in the back +of his mind Smith remembered the tree-folk's warning, "When Thag calls, +you must answer." Not consciously did he recall it, for all his +consciousness was answering the siren humming in the air, and, scarcely +realizing that he moved, he had turned toward the source of that +calling, stumbling blindly over the flowery sward with no thought in his +music-brimmed mind but the need to answer that lovely, power-vibrant +summoning. + +Past him as he went on moved other shapes, little and dark-skinned and +ecstatic, gripped like himself in the hypnotic melody. The tree-folk had +forgotten even their inbred fear at Thag's calling, and walked boldly +through the open twilight, lost in the wonder of the song. + +Smith went on with the rest, deaf and blind to the land around him, +alive to one thing only, that summons from the siren tune. +Unrealizingly, he retraced the course of his frenzied flight, past the +trees and bushes he had blundered through, down the slope that led to +the Tree's hollow, through the thinning of the underbrush to the very +edge of the last line of foliage which marked the valley's rim. + + * * * * * + +By now the calling was so unbearably intense, so intolerably sweet that +somehow in its very strength it set free a part of his dazed mind as it +passed the limits of audible things and soared into ecstasies which no +senses bound. And though it gripped him ever closer in its magic, a sane +part of his brain was waking into realization. For the first time alarm +came back into his mind, and by slow degrees the world returned about +him. He stared stupidly at the grass moving by under his pacing feet. He +lifted a dragging head and saw that the trees no longer rose about him, +that a twilit clearing stretched away on all sides toward the forest rim +which circled it, that the music was singing from some source so near +that--that---- + +The Tree! Terror leaped within him like a wild thing. The Tree, +quivering with unbearable clarity in the thick, dim air, writhed above +him, blossoms blazing with bloody radiance and every branch vibrant and +undulant to the tune of that unholy song. Then he was aware of the +lovely, luminous whiteness of the priestess swaying forward under the +swaying limbs, her hair rippling back from the loveliness of her as she +moved. + +Choked and frenzied with unreasoning terror, he mustered every effort +that was in him to turn, to run again like a mad-man out of that +dreadful hollow, to hide himself under the weight of all space from the +menace of the Tree. And all the while he fought, all the while panic +drummed like mad in his brain, his relentless body plodded on straight +toward the hideous loveliness of that siren singer towering above him. +From the first he had felt subconsciously that it was Thag who called, +and now, in the very center of that ocean of vibrant power, he knew. +Gripped in the music's magic, he went on. + +All over the clearing other hypnotized victims were advancing slowly, +with mechanical steps and wide, frantic eyes as the tree-folk came +helplessly to their god's calling. He watched a group of little, dusky +sacrifices pace step by step nearer to the Tree's vibrant branches. The +priestess came forward to meet them with outstretched arms. He saw her +take the foremost gently by the hands. Unbelieving, hypnotized with +horrified incredulity, he watched her lead the rigid little creature +forward under the fabulous Tree whose limbs yearned downward like hungry +snakes, the great flowers glowing with avid color. + +[Illustration: "The priestess led the rigid little creature forward +under the fabulous tree."] + +He saw the branches twist out and lengthen toward the sacrifice, +quivering with eagerness. Then with a tiger's leap they darted, and the +victim was swept out of the priestess' guiding hands up into the +branches that darted round like tangled snakes in a clot that hid him +for an instant from view. Smith heard a high, shuddering wail ripple out +from that knot of struggling branches, a dreadful cry that held such an +infinity of purest horror and understanding that he could not but +believe that Thag's victims in the moment of their doom must learn the +secret of his horror. After that one frightful cry came silence. In an +instant the limbs fell apart again from emptiness. The little savage had +melted like smoke among their writhing, too quickly to have been +devoured, more as if he had been snatched into another dimension in the +instant the hungry limbs hid him. Flame-tipped, avid, they were dipping +now toward another victim as the priestess paced serenely forward. + + * * * * * + +And still Smith's rebellious feet were carrying him on, nearer and +nearer the writhing peril that towered over his head. The music shrilled +like pain. Now he was so close that he could see the hungry +flower-mouths in terrible detail as they faced round toward him. The +limbs quivered and poised like cobras, reached out with a snakish +lengthening, down inexorably toward his shuddering helplessness. The +priestess was turning her calm white face toward his. + + * * * * * + +Those arcs and changing curves of the branches as they neared were +sketching lines of pure horror whose meaning he still could not +understand, save that they deepened in dreadfulness as he neared. For +the last time that urgent wonder burned up in his mind why--_why_ so +simple a thing as this fabulous Tree should be infused with an +indwelling terror strong enough to send his innermost soul frantic with +revulsion. For the last time--because in that trembling instant as he +waited for their touch, as the music brimmed up with unbearable, +brain-wrenching intensity, in that one last moment before the +flower-mouths seized him--he saw. He understood. + + * * * * * + +With eyes opened at last by the instant's ultimate horror, he saw the +real Thag. Dimly he knew that until now the thing had been so frightful +that his eyes had refused to register its existence, his brain to +acknowledge the possibility of such dreadfulness. It had literally been +too terrible to see, though his instinct knew the presence of infinite +horror. But now, in the grip of that mad, hypnotic song, in the instant +before unbearable terror enfolded him, his eyes opened to full sight, +and he saw. + +That Tree was only Thag's outline, sketched three-dimensionally upon the +twilight. Its dreadfully curving branches had been no more than Thag's +barest contours, yet even they had made his very soul sick with +intuitive revulsion. But now, seeing the true horror, his mind was too +numb to do more than register its presence: Thag, hovering monstrously +between earth and heaven, billowing and surging up there in the +translucent twilight, tethered to the ground by the Tree's bending stem +and reaching ravenously after the hypnotized fodder that his calling +brought helpless into his clutches. One by one he snatched them up, one +by one absorbed them into the great, unseeable horror of his being. +That, then, was the reason why they vanished so instantaneously, sucked +into the concealing folds of a thing too dreadful for normal eyes to +see. + +The priestess was pacing forward. Above her the branches arched and +leaned. Caught in a timeless paralysis of horror, Smith stared upward +into the enormous bulk of Thag while the music hummed intolerably in his +shrinking brain--Thag, the monstrous thing from darkness, called up by +Illar in those long-forgotten times when Mars was a green planet. +Foolishly his brain wandered among the ramifications of what had +happened so long ago that time itself had forgotten, refusing to +recognize the fate that was upon himself. He knew a tingle of respect +for the ages-dead wizard who had dared command a being like this to his +services--this vast, blind, hovering thing, ravenous for human flesh, +indistinguishable even now save in those terrible outlines that sent +panic leaping through him with every motion of the Tree's fearful +symmetry. + + * * * * * + +All this flashed through his dazed mind in the one blinding instant of +understanding. Then the priestess' luminous whiteness swam up before his +hypnotized stare. Her hands were upon him, gently guiding his mechanical +footsteps, very gently leading him forward into--into---- + + * * * * * + +The writhing branches struck downward, straight for his face. And in one +flashing leap the moment's infinite horror galvanized him out of his +paralysis. Why, he could not have said. It is not given to many men to +know the ultimate essentials of all horror, concentrated into one +fundamental unit. To most men it would have had that same paralyzing +effect up to the very instant of destruction. But in Smith there must +have been a bed-rock of subtle violence, an unyielding, inflexible +vehemence upon which the structure of his whole life was reared. Few men +have it. And when that ultimate intensity of terror struck the basic +flint of him, reaching down through mind and soul into the deepest +depths of his being, it struck a spark from that inflexible barbarian +buried at the roots of him which had force enough to shock him out of +his stupor. + + * * * * * + +In the instant of release his hand swept like an unloosed spring, of its +own volition, straight for the butt of his power-gun. He was dragging it +free as the Tree's branches snatched him from its priestess' hands. The +fire-colored blossoms burnt his flesh as they closed round him, the hot +branches gripping like the touch of ravenous fingers. The whole Tree was +hot and throbbing with a dreadful travesty of fleshly life as it whipped +him aloft into the hovering bulk of incarnate horror above. + +In the instantaneous upward leap of the flower-tipped limbs Smith fought +like a demon to free his gun-hand from the gripping coils. For the first +time Thag knew rebellion in his very clutches, and the ecstasy of that +music which had dinned in Smith's ears so strongly that by now it seemed +almost silence was swooping down a long arc into wrath, and the branches +tightened with hot insistency, lifting the rebellious offering into +Thag's monstrous, indescribable bulk. + +But even as they rose, Smith was twisting in their clutch to maneuver +his hand into a position from which he could blast that undulant tree +trunk into nothingness. He knew intuitively the futility of firing up +into Thag's imponderable mass. Thag was not of the world he knew; the +flame blast might well be harmless to that mighty hoverer in the +twilight. But at the Tree's root, where Thag's essential being merged +from the imponderable to the material, rooting in earthly soil, he +should be vulnerable if he were vulnerable at all. Struggling in the +tight, hot coils, breathing the nameless essence of horror, Smith fought +to free his hand. + +The music that had rung so long in his ears was changing as the branches +lifted him higher, losing its melody and merging by swift degrees into a +hum of vast and vibrant power that deepened in intensity as the limbs +drew him upward into Thag's monstrous bulk, the singing force of a thing +mightier than any dynamo ever built. Blinded and dazed by the force +thundering through every atom of his body, he twisted his hand in one +last, convulsive effort, and fired. + +He saw the flame leap in a dazzling gush straight for the trunk below. +It struck. He heard the sizzle of annihilated matter. He saw the trunk +quiver convulsively from the very roots, and the whole fabulous Tree +shook once with an ominous tremor. But before that tremor could shiver +up the branches to him the hum of the living dynamo which was closing +round his body shrilled up arcs of pure intensity into a thundering +silence. + +Then without a moment's warning the world exploded. So instantaneously +did all this happen that the gun-blast's roar had not yet echoed into +silence before a mightier sound than the brain could bear exploded +outward from the very center of his own being. Before the awful power of +it everything reeled into a shaken oblivion. He felt himself falling.... + + * * * * * + +A queer, penetrating light shining upon his closed eyes roused Smith by +degrees into wakefulness again. He lifted heavy lids and stared upward +into the unwinking eye of Mars' racing nearer moon. He lay there +blinking dazedly for a while before enough of memory returned to rouse +him. Then he sat up painfully, for every fiber of him ached, and stared +round on a scene of the wildest destruction. He lay in the midst of a +wide, rough circle which held nothing but powdered stone. About it, +rising raggedly in the moving moonlight, the blocks of time-forgotten +Illar loomed. + +But they were no longer piled one upon another in a rough travesty of +the city they once had shaped. Some force mightier than any of man's +explosives seemed to have hurled them with such violence from their beds +that their very atoms had been disrupted by the force of it, crumbling +them into dust. And in the very center of the havoc lay Smith, unhurt. + +He stared in bewilderment about the moonlight ruins. In the silence it +seemed to him that the very air still quivered in shocked vibrations. +And as he stared he realized that no force save one could have wrought +such destruction upon the ancient stones. Nor was there any explosive +known to man which would have wrought this strange, pulverizing havoc +upon the blocks of Illar. That force had hummed unbearably through the +living dynamo of Thag, a force so powerful that space itself had bent to +enclose it. Suddenly he realized what must have happened. + +Not Illar, but Thag himself had warped the walls of space to enfold the +twilit world, and nothing but Thag's living power could have held it so +bent to segregate the little, terror-ridden land inviolate. + +Then when the Tree's roots parted, Thag's anchorage in the material +world failed and in one great gust of unthinkable energy the warped +space-walls had ceased to bend. Those arches of solid space had snapped +back into their original pattern, hurling the land and all its dwellers +into--into----His mind balked in the effort to picture what must have +happened, into what ultimate dimension those denizens must have +vanished. + +Only himself, enfolded deep in Thag's very essence, the intolerable +power of the explosion had not touched. So when the warped space-curve +ceased to be, and Thag's hold upon reality failed, he must have been +dropped back out of the dissolving folds upon the spot where the Tree +had stood in the space-circled world, through that vanished world-floor +into the spot he had been snatched from in the instant of the dim land's +dissolution. It must have happened after the terrible force of the +explosion had spent itself, before Thag dared move even himself through +the walls of changing energy into his own far land again. + +Smith sighed and lifted a hand to his throbbing head, rising slowly to +his feet. What time had elapsed he could not guess, but he must assume +that the Patrol still searched for him. Wearily he set out across the +circle of havoc toward the nearest shelter which Illar offered. The dust +rose in ghostly, moonlit clouds under his feet. + +[Illustration] + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Tree of Life, by Catherine Lucille Moore + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TREE OF LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 32850.txt or 32850.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/8/5/32850/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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