Dark Sanctuary

by H. B. Gregory

  “Eleven-fifty-five,” he said. “Time to being. I trust we shall have no more interruptions.”

  II

  The first thing that met the eyes of Tony and his two companions as they emerged cautiously into the crypt was the lifeless body of Simon Vaughan. A quick glance around satisfied them that there was no one else about, and they stood bewildered, looking down at the dead man.

  In spite of the terrible burns they could see that his features were as calmly set as if he were asleep, and on his lips there was the faintest hint of a smile.

  Valerie caught her breath. She felt the strangest impulse to weep over this man, who in his life had stood in her mind for all the filthy wickedness of the world. Surely that pale, serene face, purged by death of all its grossness, could not be that of the monstrous Satanist she had known and hated.

  The rector knelt beside the body. He too was conscious of some great mystery here.

  “How did he die, I wonder,” he mused. “Not John, surely.”

  “No,” said Tony, “never. Look at his clothes, his face — all burnt. He looks like a poor wretch I once saw struck by lightning. And there is but one man on Kestrel who could command the lightning. He must have resisted Gaunt, as I hoped and prayed he would, and, so doing, was destroyed. Poor fellow, he cannot have been wholly bad.”

  “He was a priest,” the rector reminded them, “and that very fact made his sins infinitely more grievous, but at the same time it may have made it easier for him to turn back. If he repented, even with his last conscious thought, who knows but that the Infinite Mercy may not enfold him yet? We shall never know the truth, but I think we may, in all charity, pray for his soul.”

  Impelled by a deep urge, which came he knew not whence, he took the crucifix from his own girdle and laid it upon the dead man’s breast, folding the stiff, cold hands over it. “Into Thy Hands, O God!” he murmured, and stood up.

  Tony flashed the beam of his torch round on the floor and noticed, all at once, the blasting-rod lying where Gaunt had dropped it. With a muttered exclamation he started forward and picked it up.

  “What is it, Tony?” asked Valerie fearfully.

  In a low voice he told them.

  “So we were right,” said the rector when he had finished. “Vaughan resisted Gaunt and was destroyed. And then — what did Gaunt do? Where is he now?”

  Tony frowned.

  “The altar was open when we came up,” he mused. “I wonder if . . .? Yes, of course, he must be! God! What a fool I am! The great cave, the lair of the curse, that’s where he’ll be — not here!”

  Quickly they climbed back into the altar and hurried down the steps. They had hardly reached the bottom when the rock underfoot began to tremble and from the darkness of the tunnel came a hollow rumbling sound. The three stopped, clinging together.

  “Too late,” Tony whispered in a voice heavy with despair — “he has begun.” He looked at his watch. The hands stood dead on twelve. With a half-sob he turned away and leaned against the wall.

  The rector spoke sharply:

  “Tony, I absolutely forbid you to give in. Come, it may still be possible to stop him. John may be there.”

  “If he is he can’t do anything — no one can. We’re finished, I tell you.”

  Valerie timidly laid her hand on his arm.

  “Tony dear,” she whispered, “for my sake, for all our sakes, don’t be like this. Let’s go through with it together.”

  He looked at her wonderingly.

  “Very well, my darling, if you wish. But it’s not earthly use.”

  So they went on together. There was no opposition such as Hamilton had met with, only the steadily growing oppression of a power of darkness so terrific that their very souls sickened. With each step they took the vibration of the rock grew more violent, until they were hard put to it to keep their feet. The cold grew deadly, until every breath was an effort, cutting the lungs like a knife.

  As they drew near the end of the passage the increasing radiance from in front made Tony’s torch unnecessary, and he switched it off, thrusting it in his pocket. They turned the corner and came to an abrupt halt.

  On the ledge, silhouetted against the ghastly greenish glare, were two figures: John Hamilton, erect and motionless, and Nicholas Gaunt.

  The latter, a bizarre picture in his ceremonial robes, was pacing slowly round the brazier, whispering softly. He stopped the moment the three appeared in the mouth of the tunnel and gazed at them incredulously, his eyes blazing with fury. He raised one hand, and Tony, at least expected to be destroyed instantly, but the doctor seemed to hesitate, and finally beckoned to them, saying:

  “Come, my friends, and join your comrade. You are just in time to see the end.”

  They made no effort to resist his will, but walked quietly forward and stood beside Hamilton, within the circle. Their friend looked at them, and though his eyes spoke volumes his lips did not move.

  “You must forgive your companion’s seeming discourtesy,” said Gaunt suavely, “but I have had to place him under restraint. He was inclined to be violent when he arrived, and violence I abhor.”

  Valerie gasped.

  “You’ve not hurt him, have you?” she demanded.

  Gaunt shook his head.

  “No, I have not hurt him — yet. I would destroy you all, without the least compunction, but it would entail an expenditure of power which I can ill afford at present. Later you will all go together.”

  “Dr. Gaunt,” said the rector quietly, “if you value your soul you will stop this infernal game of yours before it is too late.”

  Gaunt laughed: an ugly sound.

  “It is too late,” he said, “the wheels of destiny are turning, and nothing can stop them now.”

  At this point Tony, who had been carrying the blasting-rod ever since he had found it in the crypt, swung the heavy thing clubwise over his head, but the doctor was too quick for him. One backward leap took him out of range, and like the crack of a whip his voice rang out:

  “Stop! You cannot move!”

  Paralyzed, Tony remained as he was, one arm in the air. Gaunt quietly took the rod from his helpless fingers and threw it out of the circle.

  “Now be still and silent, all of you. I cannot concentrate in the midst of such commotion.”

  His tone was quite commonplace, but upon each of his hearers descended the same invisible bonds of silence and immobility which bound Hamilton. Rooted to the rock, they stood and watched.

  Going to the extreme edge of the circle, where it verged upon the brink of the platform, Gaunt fixed his eyes on a point in the centre of the cavern floor, far below, and began to move his lips soundlessly. The rumbling sound which had been going on faintly all the while like distant thunder now grew louder and more near, and the shuddering of the rock became a steady pulse. The green light flooding the place waxed and waned, seeming to vibrate in sympathy.

  Suddenly a great circular expanse of rock in the middle of the floor below bulged violently upwards. For an instant it quivered there like a gigantic bubble, then it broke, and in the pit beneath writhed the black slime of corruption which was the substance of the curse-monstrosity. The very air seemed to darken as the horror came into view, and the essence of concentrated evil rose from it in waves so overpowering that the senses of Gaunt’s helpless companions reeled.

  The doctor smiled with quiet satisfaction and turned towards them.

  “There it lies, my friends,” he said — “the so-called curse of the Lovells — mine now to do with as I will. As I suppose you know, I had intended to set it free and let it spread over the whole world, but your presence here has made that undesirable. Be not too thankful until I have done! I hope to do a much greater thing than that.

  “Long ages ago the greatest magician, perhaps, this world has ever known dwelt here, and conducted his magical experiments in this very cavern. Here, at this same hour, he succeeded in doing a thing no man had ever done before: he made a breach in the V
eil which hangs between this creation and the Outer Chaos. For but an instant of Time the Veil was rent, and through the breach came this monstrosity. The Magus bound it to this rock and went away — none knows whither — leaving his experiment half done. Ages after came the monks, and by reason of their exceeding holiness dwelt here unharmed by that which lay dormant beneath their feet. Then came the first of the Lovells, committing sacrilege; the creature woke, and the Abbot’s words, by vague intention, and by one chance phrase, completed a phase of the ancient ritual; and it fastened itself upon the house of Lovell, battening upon their very life, until at last Tony Lovell cut the bond which bound it to himself and gave the reins to me.

  “But it grows weary of its exile here: it longs for its own kind. The hour is ripe for me to do once more the thing that Great One did so long ago. Something of his wisdom lives in me, and through the strength and blind ferocity of that dark monster, yearning for its kind, I shall rend once more the Veil, and open wide the breach between this world and Chaos. But this time it shall not be shut, but shall stand open for eternity, letting the Outer Darkness in upon the world.”

  Speechless, immobile, his hearers never doubted that Gaunt had the power to carry out his monstrous threat. So bruised were their minds by the accumulation of things seemingly impossible that they had well-nigh lost the power of reasoned thought: they could only listen stupefied to his vaunting monologue.

  “Humanity has looked its last upon the sun,” he went on remorselessly, “for soon the sun will be blotted out for ever: sun, moon, stars; the green earth; all beauty and all loveliness; for these things have absolute existence only in the mind of man, and when the Veil is rent again, and this earth becomes a playground for the horrors of the Dark, mankind will be plunged into the Abyss and utterly destroyed. Even God Himself will cease to be.”

  So dreadful was the expression of hellish glee upon the face of the Satanist as he uttered the last words that the rector closed his eyes to shut out the abominable sight.

  Gaunt’s lips curled as he saw this.

  “Pray, priest, pray!” he sneered. “You did not think your God could be destroyed, did you? Well, know now that He can, at least, to the knowledge of this creation. He will not answer your prayers: He is powerless before the might of my Lord. O Satan, Master! I thank Thee for this hour!”

  “O God,” the rector prayed passionately in his heart, “strike this blasphemer dead!”

  But the prayer went up unanswered, and Gaunt turned away from them, and stood for a while contemplating the writhing horror below. Under his steady gaze its movements became less and less violent, until it lay almost quiescent save for a slight rhythmical swell upon its surface. Once he moved his hands in a peculiar manner, and a sympathetic shudder ran through its slimy substance. Satisfied that he had it completely under control, he went to the brazier and cast a handful of powder into it. A dense white smoke sprang up, and hung in a thick pall overhead. Then, taking up his glowing wand, he began to recite the words and perform the actions of a ritual which even the highest of adepts have thought to be lost in the mists of antiquity.

  Fascinated like rabbits before a snake, the four watched helplessly. They heard the rumbling sound which filled the cavern die away, until there was silence save for the low chanting of the Satanist. They felt the vibration of the rock lessen and cease. At last even Time itself seemed to stand still, as Gaunt stretched his still-glowing wand downwards towards the monstrosity.

  Then — how can mere words describe what followed? It seemed that the thing heaved its monstrous bulk out of the pit in the cavern floor and hurled itself at the foot of the opposite wall. But was it merely the opposite wall? Did, then, the wall of that cavern, great at it was, stretch out on every side into immensity? Was it smooth as glass and softly shining? They realized that this was no mere cavern wall but the substance of the Veil itself, rendered visible by the magician in their midst. Past terror now, almost curiously they watched, as the monstrosity, obedient to Gaunt’s direction, began to attack that unbelievable barrier.

  The doctor stood rigid, every particle of his terrific will concentrated upon his task, the sweat pouring from his face. They could feel the dark power radiating from that tall figure, and the crimson aura about him was clearly visible. Tension piled on tension as the long minutes crept into eternity. The silence was absolute: a tangible thing.

  Then, with a sound like the crack of doom, the Veil was rent. From the creature tearing at its foot a jagged rift starred out across the wall. A shrill cry of triumph burst from Gaunt’s lips, and the monstrosity began thrusting itself into the aperture. Nor was that all, for, as it strove to widen the breach, it began to utter a deep bellowing call, which was immediately answered, at first as from a great distance and then close at hand, as the horrified watchers beheld vague, monstrous shapes of Darkness crowding to meet it beyond the Veil.

  Even in that awful moment the rector was praying continually, crying out in the darkness of his mind to the God he knew to be all-powerful.

  “O God, let not Thy people perish! Let them not be destroyed utterly! From everlasting damnation deliver us, O Lord!”

  He fixed his eyes upon the Satanist, confidently expecting the fire from Heaven which must soon fall upon him. But that was not God’s way.

  Tony was past framing a conscious prayer, but he let his mind sink into the infinite in the way he had been taught. With no thought of self, his soul reached out until he knew he was on the threshold of the Presence. There he made an offering of himself for all mankind, very humbly.

  The rift in the Veil was now of an appalling width. Only one thing prevented the immediate entry of the Darkness, and that was the monstrosity itself, still thrusting through the gap impelled by Gaunt’s command and its own furious desire to rejoin its kind. In another moment it would be through, and the Darkness would come flooding irresistibly in, blasting the world for ever.

  Then God came: august, inexorable, unhurried. Not with the lightning and thunder of Sinai; not with the flames of Pentecost; but unseen, unheralded, in the quiet certainty of omnipotence.

  Through Tony Lovell’s hands and feet and side shot a fiery dart of agony; and at the same instant the invisible shackles which Gaunt’s will had bound about his limbs were loosed and he was free. Without the slightest hesitation, though he knew he was going to almost certain death, he flung himself upon the Satanist. Caught unawares, Gaunt lost his balance, and for one age-long moment the two tottered on the brink of the ledge, locked in mortal combat; then they had fallen headlong into the gulf.

  Still powerless to stir an inch, the three who were left saw with agonized eyes the two bodies, still clinging together, strike the cavern floor, only a few yards from the pit whence the monstrosity had come. That both were not killed instantly was in itself miraculous, but Gaunt, who had fallen undermost, was on his feet almost as soon as Tony. He had received injuries which must have incapacitated an ordinary man, and it was only by the exercise of his whole will that he kept the life in his broken body. What he saw to terrify him in the figure of the chalk-faced, blood-bespattered young man who staggered towards him no one will ever know; but with the cry of a hunted beast he turned and fled round the lip of the pit, with Tony after him. And the monstrosity, lying motionless, half through the Veil, watched him come. Not until he was almost upon it did he realize his frightful predicament: then it was too late. He could spare not the least fraction of will-power to ward off the horror as it surged towards him, catching his feet. He uttered one scream of mortal anguish and fell forwards into the bubbling mass. For an instant his white robe fluttered against the blackness, then he was gone, and the whole bulk of the monstrosity heaved itself out through the gap, taking its erstwhile master with it.

  Immediately the bonds which held the watchers on the ledge were broken. Valerie reeled and would have fallen had Hamilton not caught her. Clinging together, they beheld the last act in that incredible drama.

  When he saw Gaunt’s dread
ful end Tony had stopped, one hand pressed against his bleeding side; but now, despite injuries which made each step an agony, he went resolutely on until he was before the rift in the Veil. His friends saw him pause for a moment as if undecided what to do, expecting each second the dark clouds of chaos and dissolution which swirled beyond the breach to pour in and overwhelm him. Then he straightened himself and spread wide his arms. As the radiance about him grew stronger the rector saw for the first time his bleeding hands, and his dark footprints on the rocky floor. Understanding the great glory which had come upon Tony Lovell, he made the sign of the Cross and watched with reverent eyes, knowing now that there was nothing more to fear.

  The slight figure with the outspread arms, which stood alone between the world and destruction, uttered seven words in a clear, ringing voice. To his mortal hearers they meant nothing save music which seemed not of this earth; but the Guardians of the Veil heard and understood. With a mighty clashing sound, like that of iron gates swinging together, the breach was closed. Then the vision of the Veil faded, leaving only the rocky cavern wall, rough but unbroken as before. At the same moment the unearthly light which flooded the place dimmed and passed, leaving them in darkness, save for the flickering lamps and the dimly glowing brazier.

  Hamilton sought and found his torch, lying where he had dropped it in the mouth of the tunnel. Cautiously they descended to the floor of the cavern, and, skirting the empty pit, came to the place where Tony was.

  At first they thought him to be dead already, so still he lay; but when Hamilton had pillowed the bruised head on his coat he opened his eyes and smiled weakly up at them.

  “All clear, John?” he asked.

  “All clear, Tony, thanks to you.”

  “Not thanks to me, John. Something came over me, and I was set free from his power. I had to do it then. Perhaps God chose me as His agent after all.”

  “He did, my son,” the rector whispered. “Look at your hands.”