The Moon Pool

by Abraham Merritt

  CHAPTER XIX

  The Madness of Olaf

  Yolara threw her white arms high. From the mountainous tiers came amighty sigh; a rippling ran through them. And upon the moment, beforeYolara's arms fell, there issued, apparently from the air around us, apeal of sound that might have been the shouting of some playful godhurling great suns through the net of stars. It was like the deepestnotes of all the organs in the world combined in one; summoning,majestic, cosmic!

  It held within it the thunder of the spheres rolling through theinfinite, the birth-song of suns made manifest in the womb of space;echoes of creation's supernal chord! It shook the body like a pulsefrom the heart of the universe--pulsed--and died away.

  On its death came a blaring as of all the trumpets of conquering hostssince the first Pharaoh led his swarms--triumphal, compelling!Alexander's clamouring hosts, brazen-throated wolf-horns of Caesar'slegions, blare of trumpets of Genghis Khan and his golden horde,clangor of the locust levies of Tamerlane, bugles of Napoleon'sarmies--war-shout of all earth's conquerors! And it died!

  Fast upon it, a throbbing, muffled tumult of harp sounds, mellownessesof myriads of wood horns, the subdued sweet shrilling of multitudes offlutes, Pandean pipings--inviting, carrying with them the calling ofwaterfalls in the hidden places, rushing brooks and murmuring forestwinds--calling, calling, languorous, lulling, dripping into the brainlike the very honeyed essence of sound.

  And after them a silence in which the memory of the music seemed tobeat, to beat ever more faintly, through every quivering nerve.

  From me all fear, all apprehension, had fled. In their place wasnothing but joyous anticipation, a supernal freedom from even theshadow of the shadow of care or sorrow; not now did anythingmatter--Olaf or his haunted, hate-filled eyes; Throckmartin or hisfate--nothing of pain, nothing of agony, nothing of striving norendeavour nor despair in that wide outer world that had turnedsuddenly to a troubled dream.

  Once more the first great note pealed out! Once more it died and fromthe clustered spheres a kaleidoscopic blaze shot as though drawn fromthe majestic sound itself. The many-coloured rays darted across thewhite waters and sought the face of the irised Veil. As they touched,it sparkled, flamed, wavered, and shook with fountains of prismaticcolour.

  The light increased--and in its intensity the silver air darkened.Faded into shadow that white mosaic of flower-crowned faces set in theamphitheatre of jet, and vast shadows dropped upon the high-flungtiers and shrouded them. But on the skirts of the rays the frettedstalls in which we sat with the fair-haired ones blazed out,iridescent, like jewels.

  I was sensible of an acceleration of every pulse; a wild stimulationof every nerve. I felt myself being lifted above the world--close tothe threshold of the high gods--soon their essence and their powerwould stream out into me! I glanced at Larry. His eyes were--wild--withlife!

  I looked at Olaf--and in his face was none of this--only hate, andhate, and hate.

  The peacock waves streamed out over the waters, cleaving the seemingdarkness, a rainbow path of glory. And the Veil flashed as though allthe rainbows that had ever shone were burning within it. Again themighty sound pealed.

  Into the centre of the Veil the light drew itself, grew into anintolerable brightness--and with a storm of tinklings, a tempest ofcrystalline notes, a tumult of tiny chimings, through it sped--theShining One!

  Straight down that radiant path, its high-flung plumes of featheryflame shimmering, its coruscating spirals whirling, its seven globesof seven colours shining above its glowing core, it raced toward us.The hurricane of bells of diamond glass were jubilant, joyous. I feltO'Keefe grip my arm; Yolara threw her white arms out in a welcominggesture; I heard from the tier a sigh of rapture--and in it apoignant, wailing under-tone of agony!

  Over the waters, down the light stream, to the end of the ivory pier,flew the Shining One. Through its crystal _pizzicati_ driftedinarticulate murmurings--deadly sweet, stilling the heart and settingit leaping madly.

  For a moment it paused, poised itself, and then came whirling down theflower path to its priestess, slowly, ever more slowly. It hovered fora moment between the woman and the dwarf, as though contemplatingthem; turned to her with its storm of tinklings softened, itsmurmurings infinitely caressing. Bent toward it, Yolara seemed togather within herself pulsing waves of power; she was terrifying;gloriously, maddeningly evil; and as gloriously, maddeningly heavenly!Aphrodite and the Virgin! Tanith of the Carthaginians and St. Bride ofthe Isles! A queen of hell and a princess of heaven--in one!

  Only for a moment did that which we had called the Dweller and whichthese named the Shining One, pause. It swept up the ramp to the dais,rested there, slowly turning, plumes and spirals lacing and unlacing,throbbing, pulsing. Now its nucleus grew plainer, stronger--human in afashion, and all inhuman; neither man nor woman; neither god nordevil; subtly partaking of all. Nor could I doubt that whatever itwas, within that shining nucleus was something sentient; somethingthat had will and energy, and in some awful, supernormalfashion--intelligence!

  Another trumpeting--a sound of stones opening--a long, low wail ofutter anguish--something moved shadowy in the river of light, andslowly at first, then ever more rapidly, shapes swam through it. Therewere half a score of them--girls and youths, women and men. TheShining One poised itself, regarded them. They drew closer, and in theeyes of each and in their faces was the bud of that awfulintermingling of emotions, of joy and sorrow, ecstasy and terror, thatI had seen in full blossom on Throckmartin's.

  The Thing began again its murmurings--now infinitely caressing,coaxing--like the song of a siren from some witched star! And thebell-sounds rang out--compellingly, calling--calling--calling--

  I saw Olaf lean far out of his place; saw, half-consciously, atLugur's signal, three of the dwarfs creep in and take places,unnoticed, behind him.

  Now the first of the figures rushed upon the dais--and paused. It wasthe girl who had been brought before Yolara when the gnome namedSongar was driven into the nothingness! With all the quickness oflight a spiral of the Shining One stretched out and encircled her.

  At its touch there was an infinitely dreadful shrinking and, itseemed, a simultaneous hurling of herself into its radiance. As itwrapped its swirls around her, permeated her--the crystal chorusburst forth--tumultuously; through and through her the radiancepulsed. Began then that infinitely dreadful, but infinitely glorious,rhythm they called the dance of the Shining One. And as the girlswirled within its sparkling mists another and another flew into itsembrace, until, at last, the dais was an incredible vision; a madstar's Witches' Sabbath; an altar of white faces and bodies gleamingthrough living flame; transfused with rapture insupportable and horrorthat was hellish--and ever, radiant plumes and spirals expanding, thecore of the Shining One waxed--growing greater--as it consumed, as itdrew into and through itself the life-force of these lost ones!

  So they spun, interlaced--and there began to pulse from them life,vitality, as though the very essence of nature was filling us. Dimly Irecognized that what I was beholding was vampirism inconceivable! Thebanked tiers chanted. The mighty sounds pealed forth!

  It was a Saturnalia of demigods!

  Then, whirling, bell-notes storming, the Shining One withdrew slowlyfrom the dais down the ramp, still embracing, still interwoven withthose who had thrown themselves into its spirals. They drifted with itas though half-carried in dreadful dance; white faces sealed--forever--intothat semblance of those who held within linked God and devil--Icovered my eyes!

  I heard a gasp from O'Keefe; opened my eyes and sought his; saw thewildness vanish from them as he strained forward. Olaf had leaned farout, and as he did so the dwarfs beside him caught him, and whether bydesign or through his own swift, involuntary movement, thrust him halfinto the Dweller's path. The Dweller paused in its gyrations--seemedto watch him. The Norseman's face was crimson, his eyes blazing. Hethrew himself back and, with one defiant shout, gripped one of thedwarfs about the middle and sent him hurtling through the air
,straight at the radiant Thing! A whirling mass of legs and arms, thedwarf flew--then in midflight stopped as though some giganticinvisible hand had caught him, and--was dashed down upon the platformnot a yard from the Shining One!

  Like a broken spider he moved--feebly--once, twice. From the Dwellershot a shimmering tentacle--touched him--recoiled. Its crystaltinklings changed into an angry chiming. From all about--jewelledstalls and jet peak--came a sigh of incredulous horror.

  Lugur leaped forward. On the instant Larry was over the low barrierbetween the pillars, rushing to the Norseman's side. And even as theyran there was another wild shout from Olaf, and he hurled himself out,straight at the throat of the Dweller!

  But before he could touch the Shining One, now motionless--and neverwas the thing more horrible than then, with the purely humansuggestion of surprise plain in its poise--Larry had struck himaside.

  I tried to follow--and was held by Rador. He was trembling--but notwith fear. In his face was incredulous hope, inexplicable eagerness.

  "Wait!" he said. "Wait!"

  The Shining One stretched out a slow spiral, and as it did so I sawthe bravest thing man has ever witnessed. Instantly O'Keefe thrusthimself between it and Olaf, pistol out. The tentacle touched him, andthe dull blue of his robe flashed out into blinding, intense azurelight. From the automatic in his gloved hand came three quick burstsof flame straight into the Thing. The Dweller drew back; thebell-sounds swelled.

  Lugur paused, his hand darted up, and in it was one of the silver_Keth_ cones. But before he could flash it upon the Norseman, Larryhad unlooped his robe, thrown its fold over Olaf, and, holding himwith one hand away from the Shining One, thrust with the other hispistol into the dwarf's stomach. His lips moved, but I could not hearwhat he said. But Lugur understood, for his hand dropped.

  Now Yolara was there--all this had taken barely more than fiveseconds. She thrust herself between the three men and the Dweller. Shespoke to it--and the wild buzzing died down; the gay crystal tinklingsburst forth again. The Thing murmured to her--began to whirl--faster,faster--passed down the ivory pier, out upon the waters, bearing withit, meshed in its light, the sacrifices--swept on ever more swiftly,triumphantly and turning, turning, with its ghastly crew, vanishedthrough the Veil!

  Abruptly the polychromatic path snapped out. The silver light pouredin upon us. From all the amphitheatre arose a clamour, a shouting.Marakinoff, his eyes staring, was leaning out, listening. Unrestrainednow by Rador, I vaulted the wall and rushed forward. But not before Ihad heard the green dwarf murmur:

  "There is something stronger than the Shining One! Two things--yea--astrong heart--and hate!"

  Olaf, panting, eyes glazed, trembling, shrank beneath my hand.

  "The devil that took my Helma!" I heard him whisper. "The ShiningDevil!"

  "Both these men," Lugur was raging, "they shall dance with the Shiningone. And this one, too." He pointed at me malignantly.

  "This man is mine," said the priestess, and her voice was menacing.She rested her hand on Larry's shoulder. "He shall not dance. No--norhis friend. I have told you I dare not for this one!" She pointed toOlaf.

  "Neither this man, nor this," said Larry, "shall be harmed. This is myword, Yolara!"

  "Even so," she answered quietly, "my lord!"

  I saw Marakinoff stare at O'Keefe with a new and curiously speculativeinterest. Lugur's eyes grew hellish; he raised his arms as though tostrike her. Larry's pistol prodded him rudely enough.

  "No rough stuff now, kid!" said O'Keefe in English. The red dwarfquivered, turned--caught a robe from a priest standing by, and threwit over himself. The _ladala_, shouting, gesticulating, fighting withthe soldiers, were jostling down from the tiers of jet.

  "Come!" commanded Yolara--her eyes rested upon Larry. "Your heart isgreat, indeed--my lord!" she murmured; and her voice was very sweet."Come!"

  "This man comes with us, Yolara," said O'Keefe pointing to Olaf.

  "Bring him," she said. "Bring him--only tell him to look no more uponme as before!" she added fiercely.

  Beside her the three of us passed along the stalls, where sat thefair-haired, now silent, at gaze, as though in the grip of some greatdoubt. Silently Olaf strode beside me. Rador had disappeared. Down thestairway, through the hall of turquoise mist, over the rushingsea-stream we went and stood beside the wall through which we hadentered. The white-robed ones had gone.

  Yolara pressed; the portal opened. We stepped upon the car; she tookthe lever; we raced through the faintly luminous corridor to the houseof the priestess.

  And one thing now I knew sick at heart and soul the truth had come tome--no more need to search for Throckmartin. Behind that Veil, in thelair of the Dweller, dead-alive like those we had just seen swim inits shining train was he, and Edith, Stanton and Thora and OlafHuldricksson's wife!

  The car came to rest; the portal opened; Yolara leaped out lightly,beckoned and flitted up the corridor. She paused before an ebonscreen. At a touch it vanished, revealing an entrance to a small bluechamber, glowing as though cut from the heart of some giganticsapphire; bare, save that in its centre, upon a low pedestal, stood agreat globe fashioned from milky rock-crystal; upon its surface werefaint tracings as of seas and continents, but, if so, either of someother world or of this world in immemorial past, for in no way didthey resemble the mapped coastlines of our earth.

  Poised upon the globe, rising from it out into space, locked in eachother's arms, lips to lips, were two figures, a woman and a man, soexquisite, so lifelike, that for the moment I failed to realize thatthey, too, were carved of the crystal. And before this shrine--fornothing else could it be, I knew--three slender cones raisedthemselves: one of purest white flame, one of opalescent water, andthe third of--moonlight! There was no mistaking them, the height of atall man each stood--but how water, flame and light were held soevenly, so steadily in their spire-shapes, I could not tell.

  Yolara bowed lowly--once, twice, thrice. She turned to O'Keefe, norby slightest look or gesture betrayed she knew others were there thanhe. The blue eyes wide, searching, unfathomable, she drew close; putwhite hands on his shoulders, looked down into his very soul.

  "My lord," she murmured. "Now listen well for I, Yolara, give youthree things--myself, and the Shining One, and the power that is theShining One's--yea, and still a fourth thing that is all three--powerover all upon that world from whence you came! These, my lord, yeshall have. I swear it"--she turned toward the altar--uplifted herarms--"by Siya and by Siyana, and by the flame, by the water, and bythe light!"[1]

  Her eyes grew purple dark.

  "Let none dare to take you from me! Nor ye go from me unbidden!" shewhispered fiercely.

  Then swiftly, still ignoring us, she threw her arms about O'Keefe,pressed her white body to his breast, lips raised, eyes closed,seeking his. O'Keefe's arms tightened around her, his head droppedlips seeking, finding hers--passionately! From Olaf came a deepindrawn breath that was almost a groan. But not in my heart could Ifind blame for the Irishman!

  The priestess opened eyes now all misty blue, thrust him back, stoodregarding him. O'Keefe, dead-white, raised a trembling hand to hisface.

  "And thus have I sealed my oath, O my lord!" she whispered. For thefirst time she seemed to recognize our presence, stared at us amoment, then through us, and turned to O'Keefe.

  "Go, now!" she said. "Soon Rador shall come for you. Then--well,after that let happen what will!"

  She smiled once more at him--so sweetly; turned toward the figuresupon the great globe; sank upon her knees before them. Quietly wecrept away; still silent, made our way to the little pavilion. But aswe passed we heard a tumult from the green roadway; shouts of men, nowand then a woman's scream. Through a rift in the garden I glimpsed ajostling crowd on one of the bridges: green dwarfs struggling with the_ladala_--and all about droned a humming as of a giant hive disturbed!

  Larry threw himself down upon one of the divans, covered his face withhis hands, dropped them to catch in Olaf's eye
s troubled reproach,looked at me.

  "_I_ couldn't help it," he said, half defiantly--half-miserably."God, what a woman! I _couldn't_ help it!"

  "Larry," I asked. "Why didn't you tell her you didn't loveher--then?"

  He gazed at me--the old twinkle back in his eye.

  "Spoken like a scientist, Doc!" he exclaimed. "I suppose if a burningangel struck you out of nowhere and threw itself about you, you wouldmost dignifiedly tell it you didn't want to be burned. For God's sake,don't talk nonsense, Goodwin!" he ended, almost peevishly.

  "Evil! Evil!" The Norseman's voice was deep, nearly a chant. "Allhere is of evil: Trolldom and Helvede it is, Ja! And that she_djaevelsk_ of beauty--what is she but harlot of that shining devilthey worship. I, Olaf Huldricksson, know what she meant when she heldout to you power over all the world, _Ja!_--as if the world had notdevils enough in it now!"

  "What?" The cry came from both O'Keefe and myself at once.

  Olaf made a gesture of caution, relapsed into sullen silence. Therewere footsteps on the path, and into sight came Rador--but a Radorchanged. Gone was every vestige of his mockery; curiously solemn, hesaluted O'Keefe and Olaf with that salute which, before this, I hadseen given only to Yolara and to Lugur. There came a swift quickeningof the tumult--died away. He shrugged mighty shoulders.

  "The _ladala_ are awake!" he said. "So much for what two brave mencan do!" He paused thoughtfully. "Bones and dust jostle not each otherfor place against the grave wall!" he added oddly. "But if bones anddust have revealed to them that they still--live--"

  He stopped abruptly, eyes seeking the globe that bore and sent forthspeech.[2]

  "The _Afyo Maie_ has sent me to watch over you till she summons you,"he announced clearly. "There is to be a--feast. You, _Larree_, youGoodwin, are to come. I remain here with--Olaf."

  "No harm to him!" broke in O'Keefe sharply. Rador touched his heart,his eyes.

  "By the Ancient Ones, and by my love for you, and by what you twaindid before the Shining One--I swear it!" he whispered.

  Rador clapped palms; a soldier came round the path, in his grip a longflat box of polished wood. The green dwarf took it, dismissed him,threw open the lid.

  "Here is your apparel for the feast, _Larree_," he said, pointing tothe contents.

  O'Keefe stared, reached down and drew out a white, shimmering, softlymetallic, long-sleeved tunic, a broad, silvery girdle, leg swathingsof the same argent material, and sandals that seemed to be cut outfrom silver. He made a quick gesture of angry dissent.

  "Nay, _Larree_!" muttered the dwarf. "Wear them--I counsel it--I prayit--ask me not why," he went on swiftly, looking again at the globe.

  O'Keefe, as I, was impressed by his earnestness. The dwarf made acuriously expressive pleading gesture. O'Keefe abruptly took thegarments; passed into the room of the fountain.

  "The Shining One dances not again?" I asked.

  "No," he said. "No"--he hesitate--"it is the usual feast that followsthe sacrament! Lugur--and Double Tongue, who came with you, will bethere," he added slowly.

  "Lugur--" I gasped in astonishment. "After what happened--he will bethere?"

  "Perhaps because of what happened, Goodwin, my friend," heanswered--his eyes again full of malice; "and there will beothers--friends of Yolara--friends of Lugur--and perhapsanother"--his voice was almost inaudible--"one whom they have notcalled--" He halted, half-fearfully, glancing at the globe; put fingerto lips and spread himself out upon one of the couches.

  "Strike up the band"--came O'Keefe's voice--"here comes the hero!"

  He strode into the room. I am bound to say that the admiration inRador's eyes was reflected in my own, and even, if involuntarily, inOlaf's.

  "A son of Siyana!" whispered Rador.

  He knelt, took from his girdle-pouch a silk-wrapped something, unwoundit--and, still kneeling, drew out a slender poniard of gleaming whitemetal, hilted with the blue stones; he thrust it into O'Keefe'sgirdle; then gave him again the rare salute.

  "Come," he ordered and took us to the head of the pathway.

  "Now," he said grimly, "let the Silent Ones show their power--if theystill have it!"

  And with this strange benediction, he turned back.

  "For God's sake, Larry," I urged as we approached the house of thepriestess, "you'll be careful!"

  He nodded--but I saw with a little deadly pang of apprehension in myheart a puzzled, lurking doubt within his eyes.

  As we ascended the serpent steps Marakinoff appeared. He gave a signalto our guards--and I wondered what influence the Russian had attained,for promptly, without question, they drew aside. At me he smiledamiably.

  "Have you found your friends yet?" he went on--and now I sensedsomething deeply sinister in him. "No! It is too bad! Well, don't giveup hope." He turned to O'Keefe.

  "Lieutenant, I would like to speak to you--alone!"

  "I've no secrets from Goodwin," answered O'Keefe.

  "So?" queried Marakinoff, suavely. He bent, whispered to Larry.

  The Irishman started, eyed him with a certain shocked incredulity,then turned to me.

  "Just a minute, Doc!" he said, and I caught the suspicion of a wink.They drew aside, out of ear-shot. The Russian talked rapidly. Larrywas all attention. Marakinoff's earnestness became intense; O'Keefeinterrupted--appeared to question. Marakinoff glanced at me and as hisgaze shifted from O'Keefe, I saw a flame of rage and horror blaze upin the latter's eyes. At last the Irishman appeared to considergravely; nodded as though he had arrived at some decision, andMarakinoff thrust his hand to him.

  And only I could have noticed Larry's shrinking, his microscopichesitation before he took it, and his involuntary movement, as thoughto shake off something unclean, when the clasp had ended.

  Marakinoff, without another look at me, turned and went quicklywithin. The guards took their places. I looked at Larry inquiringly.

  "Don't ask a thing now, Doc!" he said tensely. "Wait till we gethome. But we've got to get damned busy and quick--I'll tell you thatnow--"

  [1] I have no space here even to outline the eschatology of thispeople, nor to catalogue their pantheon. Siya and Siyana typifiedworldly love. Their ritual was, however, singularly free from thosedegrading elements usually found in love-cults. Priests andpriestesses of all cults dwelt in the immense seven-terracedstructure, of which the jet amphitheatre was the water side. Thesymbol, icon, representation, of Siya and Siyana--the globe and theup-striving figures--typified earthly love, feet bound to earth, buteyes among the stars. Hell or heaven I never heard formulated, northeir equivalents; unless that existence in the Shining One's domaincould serve for either. Over all this was Thanaroa, remote; unheeding,but still maker and ruler of all--an absentee First Cause personified!Thanaroa seemed to be the one article of belief in the creed of thesoldiers--Rador, with his reverence for the Ancient Ones, was anexception. Whatever there was, indeed, of high, truly religiousimpulse among the Murians, this far, High God had. I found thisexceedingly interesting, because it had long been my theory--to putthe matter in the shape of a geometrical formula--that the realattractiveness of gods to man increases uniformly according to thesquare of their distance--W. T. G.

  [2] I find that I have neglected to explain the working of theseinteresting mechanisms that were telephonic, dictaphonic, telegraphicin one. I must assume that my readers are familiar with the receivingapparatus of wireless telegraphy, which must be "tuned" by theoperator until its own vibratory quality is in exact harmony with thevibrations--the extremely rapid impacts--of those short electricwavelengths we call Hertzian, and which carry the wireless messages. Imust assume also that they are familiar with the elementary fact ofphysics that the vibrations of light and sound are interchangeable.The hearing-talking globes utilize both these principles, and withconsummate simplicity. The light with which they shone was produced byan atomic "motor" within their base, similar to that which activatedthe merely illuminating globes. The composition of the phonic spheresgave their surfaces an acute sensitivi
ty and resonance. In conjunctionwith its energizing power, the metal set up what is called a "field offorce," which linked it with every particle of its kind no matter howdistant. When vibrations of speech impinged upon the resonant surfaceits rhythmic light-vibrations were broken, just as a telephonetransmitter breaks an electric current. Simultaneously theselight-vibrations were changed into sound--on the surfaces of allspheres tuned to that particular instrument. The "crawling" colourswhich showed themselves at these times were literally the voice of thespeaker in its spectrum equivalent. While usually the sounds producedrequired considerable familiarity with the apparatus to be understoodquickly, they could, on occasion, be made startlingly loud andclear--as I was soon to realize--W. T. G.