by Anthology
Dorman had switched on the searchlights and I stared through the porthole, watching for the first indication of the vast gray stone city. And then I saw them for the second time, rising out of the slime of the ocean, clawing upward for hundreds of feet; row upon seemingly endless row of fantastically symmetrical columns; the nearer one blindingly clear in the harsh actinic light, with countless others stretching away into the black immensity. Dorman must have had some rational theory at the forefront of his mind. Yet, even so, he uttered a sudden exclamation of awed surprise and disbelief at what he saw.
For several seconds, he seemed stunned. Then he pulled himself together and gave rapid instructions for the bathysphere to be lowered very slowly. We were some fifty yards from the nearest spire but there seemed no doubt these buildings widened out towards the base and we did not wish to run the risk of striking one on our way down. We felt the unmistakable tug on the steel vessel almost at once as our rate of descent slowed appreciably.
The effect of that monstrous labyrinth which stretched away from us into inconceivable distances was indescribable for it was apparent at once that whatever stood on this undersea plateau had never been fashioned by nature, even in her wildest and most capricious moments. And it was equally obvious that whatever hands had erected these edifices had been far from human.
As we progressed downward, we saw there were other ruins, smaller than the towers, yet equally alien. Squat, flat-topped buildings with openings in them that were roughly semicircular in outline. If they were doors, as I had immediately assumed, I shuddered at the thought of the shape and size their occupants must have possessed.
After what seemed aeons, but could only have been a few minutes, the bathysphere came to rest on the massive stone slabs of an enormous swathe, extending so far into the darkness on either side that we could not see its furthermost limits. Above us, the tops of the lofty towers were likewise lost. Now we were able to discern the prodigious size of these archaic stone piles. The cavernous openings gaped in a menacing and sinister fashion and I had the unshakable feeling that, at any moment, something monstrous would come wriggling out of them, huge beyond all our comprehension, intent upon our destruction.
I remember yelling at Dorman, “Now do you believe me?”
I saw him nod his head in stupefied acquiescence. “It’s utterly fantastic. I’d never have believed it possible.”
“It must be twenty or thirty thousand years old,” I said. “There’s no geological evidence for any inundation of this region later than that.”
Many of the ruins were, of course, almost completely flattened by whatever titanic catastrophe had overtaken the city in that past age. But by switching off the interior lights, we were able to use the binoculars, sweeping the entire viewable scene with their enhanced vision.
There was no doubt now that the gray stonework was incised with the outlines of maddening cryptographs that made no sense to our purely terrestrial senses. Monstrous and suggestive of extraneous dimensions, they leered at us across a distance of a hundred feet and thousands of years as if mocking our futile efforts to unravel their secrets.
Many were representative of pre-human species neither of us could recognize but here were pictures of creatures familiar to us; terrestrial animals and marine life belonging to that bygone age.
How many miles in every direction the city stretched, it was impossible to estimate. Inwardly, I knew that our discovery totally verified everything that had been written in that book I had picked up and the letters that had belonged to Jethro Haworth. In spite of my sense of awe and bewilderment, I wondered what the old recluse’s reactions would have been if he had been there with Dorman and I at that moment; sitting there in a tiny vessel which seemed miniscule and fragile in the face of the boundless metropolis which loomed all around us.
It was Dorman who drew my attention to a curious phenomenon in the distance. Far beyond the furthermost point the beam from the searchlight could reach, there appeared to be a faint glow, a curious reddish point of radiance that waxed and waned in a strangely hypnotic manner that was both surprising and frightening. Leaving my seat, I crouched down beside him in the cramped space. It was possible it had been there all the time but was so faint as to be invisible until we had switched off the lights in the bathysphere. Almost simultaneously, we trained our binoculars on it. For a moment, I could make out nothing but a vague blur, but as I adjusted the focus, it suddenly sprang into breathtaking clarity.
We had previously believed this sunken city to be absolutely silent and dead. How could it have been otherwise when it had been destroyed long before man had evolved into a thinking, rational animal?
Yet all reason deserted me as I saw, through the lenses of the binoculars, the dark outlines of the great building with a single wide entrance through which poured that crimson effulgence that clearly had its ghastly origin somewhere far below the level of the ocean floor. We might have put it down to some volcanic activity still going on beneath the sea but for the obvious fact there was no indication whatsoever of any bubbling and seething of steam in the vicinity. The water was just as undisturbed there as it was in our immediate vicinity.
It was impossible for us to put forward any logical explanation for the phenomenon. Dorman’s first instinctive reaction was to call up the ship to move us closer to the building but a single glance was enough to tell us there were far too many obstacles between it and us for that to be a feasible proposition. Reluctantly, he finally decided to return to the surface. We had been down for more than two hours and it soon became apparent that if we wished to examine this curious spectacle more closely we would have to resort to the more dangerous procedure of descending in diving suits which would allow us more freedom of movement.
Once back on board the vessel, we communicated our findings to the other members of the team amid an atmosphere of mounting excitement and puzzlement. That we had made an outstanding discovery was beyond doubt, and before leaving the spot we dropped a marker buoy over the side to ensure our return to the same spot.
That evening we gathered in Dorman’s cabin to discuss and plan our next moves. Brown and Conlon were of the opinion that news of our discovery should be telegraphed at once to the university, reporting a major archaeological find which went far beyond any others made in this area, but Dorman insisted on maintaining radio silence until further confirmatory evidence had been acquired.
We now knew the depth of water we would have to descend and since this was well within the safety limits of the diving suits we had on board, it was agreed that, the weather permitting, three of us should go down to explore the area around that enigmatic edifice we had sighted and, if possible, determine the cause of the peculiar radiance emanating from within it.
That night, I found it difficult to sleep. The nearness of things that properly belonged to an era far in the past, affected me strongly, intruding into my thoughts, forming odd and bizarre images in my mind. When I finally did fall into a restless doze I dreamed of the long-dead city under the sea. But before my dreaming gaze it now stood unbroken and untarnished by time on dry land and there was no ocean in sight. On an incredibly ancient plateau, wreathed in clouds of steam and noxious vapors, the Cyclopean buildings stretched away in all directions as far as the eye could see, and high into the lowering clouds where the topmost spires were lost to sight.
There was something terribly unhuman about the geometry of its massive gray stone walls, and the mind-wrenching alienness of its angles and intermeshing structures went against all reason, all known laws of mathematics, logic and architecture. I knew, by some weird instinct, I was seeing it as it had been perhaps several million years ago when it had been newly built by that race from the stars.
That it was a scene from all those aeons ago was evident from the trees in the foreground, which were huge cycads with monstrous ferns forming a thickly-tangled undergrowth around them. Fortunately for my sanity, the swirling columns of mist shrouded much of the city from full
view. But where the vapors thinned occasionally I caught a glimpse of that central temple with its single entrance from the ruins of which that garish light had flared only a few waking hours before.
Yet there were now visible even more shocking exaggerations of nature than the city itself; those hideous and, if the Book of K’yog was to be believe, artificially, created abominations that had built it. I saw them as vague shapes in the vast avenues and squares, saw them clinging limpet-like to the sides of the buildings or oozing jelly-like from grotesque apertures and doorways. What insane blasphemy had bred those things I could not conceive, but the mere sight of them woke me, yelling incoherently, from my dream.
I was sitting upright in my bunk, clutching nervously at the covers, when Brown burst into my cabin, roused by my unearthly scream. Shuddering, I told him it had been nothing but a nightmare, probably brought on by what I had seen the previous day. He looked unconvinced but eventually accepted my explanation and left, obviously puzzled by my irrational behavior. I remained awake for the rest of the night, waiting huddled on the bunk, for the first light of dawn. Whether those abominable creatures were just images conjured up by my overwrought mind, or I had somehow seen things as they had actually been millions of years before, I could not tell. But the nightmare had been so clear in all its detail that I found it difficult to believe it had been only a fantasy born out of my mind.
If I had only recognized it for the premonition it was, I might well have opted out of going down with Dorman and Brown and I could, perhaps, sleep peacefully at nights, instead of being plagued and assailed by recurrent dreams which now haunt my sleeping hours.
Our preparations for our third descent were even more thorough than the first two for in that depth of water there were far more dangers associated with even the most modern diving equipment than going down in the bathysphere. We spotted the marker buoy a little after ten o’clock and the vessel came to a stop close beside it under a cloudless blue sky with scarcely any wind. The suits were all equipped with powerful underwater lamps, thereby leaving our hands free.
Half an hour later, we were ready. Cramped as conditions had been inside the bathysphere, inside the suits it was far worse. They did, however, possess one distinct advantage; on the ocean floor they would give us much greater freedom of movement. Then I was in the water and going down at what seemed a dangerous rate of descent. I could see no sign of my two companions. All around me was a dark-purple world, which rapidly shaded into absolute blackness, pierced only by the light of my lamp, which, although not as powerful as those on the bathysphere, was still able to pierce the gloom for a distance of several yards.
As I descended, I directed my whole attention downward for I had no desire to become impaled upon one of those rearing pinnacles which dotted the vast plain below me in such prodigious profusion.
After what seemed an age, but could have been only a few minutes, I saw something huge looming up out of the stygian darkness a little to my left. Almost before I was aware of it, I was moving down the side of one of those nightmare towers. The effect of seeing it so close at hand was indescribable, for it was only then I realized its true dimensions. God alone knew, or perhaps could ever know, the full extent of this long-dead metropolis.
Once I stood on the massive pavings of the central swathe, the horror of my dream returned a hundredfold. For now I had no normal ideals to fall back on to enable me to fully maintain a hold on my toppling emotions. Had I remained alone in that darkness of uncountable years I might have tugged frantically on the rope connecting me to the surface, demanding to be pulled back up to sanity and the mundane surroundings of the ship. But a few seconds later, I saw another shambling figure, a second beam of light stabbing the gloom ahead of me.
Going forward, I recognized Brown’s features behind the transparent face-piece of the helmet and pointing along the avenue, I urged him onward, keeping a safe distance between us in order that our lines might not become entangled. Our progress was not as rapid, nor as easy, as I had anticipated. Now, for the first time, I was able to see the full extent of the devastation that had struck the city all those thousands of years earlier. The great stones that made up the avenue had been twisted and buckled upward so they lay at crazy angles with gaping holes between them. We were forced to pick our way forward with extreme care, working our way around the individual stones, gingerly clambering over others, knowing that the slightest tear in our suits would doom us to almost instant death.
Curiously, although the light had not been in sight earlier, my sense of direction was not ill-founded. Working our way against the surging currents, often bent almost double as if against a gale, we soon sighted the dull-red glow which Dorman and I had witnessed before. I made to call Brown’s attention to it, but he had already seen it and behind the transparent mask I saw his awestruck face staring at me questioningly. I nodded and pointed again, motioning him onward.
It was impossible to take in more than a miniscule part of the complete structure, which, curiously, seemed to have suffered far less from the cataclysmic destruction of the other buildings we had seen.
As we approached it, we noticed two things that filled us with a sense of shock and apprehension. Above the solitary portal, cut deep into the gray stone, we were just able to make out a vast, cryptic sign. Had it not been for the diffuse red glow, we might have missed it altogether. The second thing we saw was the diminutive figure already inside the massive building, moving steadily towards a gaping chasm deep within, from which poured the singular radiance.
That it was Dorman, we did not doubt. Yet why had he gone on ahead without waiting for us, we could not guess. Perhaps he wished to convince himself there was some natural explanation for the phenomenon or, as I later came to believe, there was some outside compulsion which made him go forward against his will. Whatever the reason, I was suddenly so overcome by the feel of evil which radiated from that spot that I grasped Brown’s arm as he made to follow and pulled him back.
The fact that we survived and made it back to the surface is proof enough that my instincts were right. Sheer luck and providence alone could not have saved us if we had gone any further into that blasphemous temple built by those long-dead alien creatures for the primeval entity they had brought with them from the dark planet on the rim of the solar system when the Earth was young.
Outlined against that hellish glare we saw Dorman reach the lip of the abyssal shaft that plummeted into unguessable deeps beneath the accursed city of Yuth, for such I now know it to be.
The old books from which occasional fragments come down to us over the ages speak wisdom to those who have eyes and ears to understand their message of warning. The spells and sigils, which bind the grotesque and undying survivors of that war fought among the stars and in universes alien to our own untold millions of years ago, do indeed weaken in their potency with the passage of aeons.
What happened next was born of horror and thankfully Brown and I witnessed only the smallest part of it. As it was, Brown was gibbering inarticulately to himself when we were eventually taken on board the waiting ship and I am left with such wild nightmares I scarcely dare close my eyes at night. Neither Brown nor I returned to the university. Brown, because his mind snapped altogether under the impact of what we both saw; and I, because I now know there are places and things on this Earth where eldritch, elder horrors still lurk, biding their time until the stars and spheres are right and they may once again walk the lands and undersea regions where Man believes himself to be supreme.
There are certain matters, which, for the peace of mankind, should not be revealed and, furthermore, it is extremely doubtful if our story would have been believed. We explained Dorman’s death and the odd seismic disturbance which accompanied it as due to a small-scale volcanic eruption on the seabed and, in general, this was accepted by the scientific community and public at large. What really occurred was far different.
As I have said, Brown and I caught sight of Dorman’s figure,
bulky and ungainly in the heavy diving suit, silhouetted against that crimson coruscation. We saw him pause as he reached the edge, his body bent forward as he peered down into whatever depths lay beyond.
For what seemed an age, we stood there irresolutely, my grip on Brown’s arm still tight as I strove to hold him back. Then, without warning, the ocean floor shuddered and heaved beneath our feet, hurling us both off balance. Brown clutched desperately at me for support. He was mouthing something behind his face-piece but I could not hear the words. The massive walls that had withstood endless years of cataclysm and decay cracked and huge lumps of masonry fell from the roof, crashing onto the buckling floor.
Only vaguely were we aware that for some unaccountable reason, the glare was fading, but for several moments we were too busy trying to keep our feet, so we paid little heed to it. Then, realizing that the entire structure was coming down about us, we somehow turned and fled; but only after throwing a quick glance in Dorman’s direction to see if he, too, were attempting to escape the devastation. It was that glance which drove Brown over the bounds of sanity and left me as I am now, afraid of shadows and dark, lonely places.
It was no fiery force of nature that caused the unholy glow inside that infamous temple, nor the upheaval that almost cost us our lives. There was a shadow cast upon the scarlet glare, dimming it even as we watched. Even that ill-defined, leaping shadow was bad enough, but the reality which followed it, the lumbering, amorphous bulk that heaved itself from the depths below accursed Yuth and for one soul-searing moment came out into the open, was a million times worse.
The lost Book of K’yog, the merest fragments of which had been copied by some unknown hand thousands of years later, had not lied. Tsathoggua had not died when his ageless city had been destroyed, together with all of his worshippers. The great glaring eye that stared at us across a hundred yards of gray stone held an evil malevolence that was infinitely more mind-destroying than anything of Earth.
