_"Send the Black Throne to dust; conquer the Black Ones, and bring
the Daughter from the Caves of Darkness." These were the tasks Garin
must perform to fulfill the prophecy of the Ancient Ones--and
establish his own destiny in this hidden land!_
_CHAPTER ONE_
_Through the Blue Haze_
Six months and three days after the Peace of Shanghai was signed and the
great War of 1965-1970 declared at an end by an exhausted world, a young
man huddled on a park bench in New York, staring miserably at the gravel
beneath his badly worn shoes. He had been trained to fill the pilot's
seat in the control cabin of a fighting plane and for nothing else. The
search for a niche in civilian life had cost him both health and
ambition.
A newcomer dropped down on the other end of the bench. The flyer studied
him bitterly. _He_ had decent shoes, a warm coat, and that air of
satisfaction with the world which is the result of economic security.
Although he was well into middle age, the man had a compact grace of
movement and an air of alertness.
"Aren't you Captain Garin Featherstone?"
Startled, the flyer nodded dumbly.
From a plump billfold the man drew a clipping and waved it toward his
seat mate. Two years before, Captain Garin Featherstone of the United
Democratic Forces had led a perilous bombing raid into the wilds of
Siberia to wipe out the vast expeditionary army secretly gathering
there. It had been a spectacular affair and had brought the survivors
some fleeting fame.
"You're the sort of chap I've been looking for," the stranger folded the
clipping again, "a flyer with courage, initiative and brains. The man
who led that raid is worth investing in."
"What's the proposition?" asked Featherstone wearily. He no longer
believed in luck.
"I'm Gregory Farson," the other returned as if that should answer the
question.
"The Antarctic man!"
"Just so. As you have probably heard, I was halted on the eve of my last
expedition by the sudden spread of war to this country. Now I am
preparing to sail south again."
"But I don't see--"
"How you can help me? Very simple, Captain Featherstone. I need pilots.
Unfortunately the war has disposed of most of them. I'm lucky to contact
one such as yourself--"
* * * * *
And it was as simple as that. But Garin didn't really believe that it
was more than a dream until they touched the glacial shores of the polar
continent some months later. As they brought ashore the three large
planes, he began to wonder at the driving motive behind Farson's vague
plans.
When the supply ship sailed, not to return for a year, Farson called
them together. Three of the company were pilots, all war veterans, and
two were engineers who spent most of their waking hours engrossed in the
maps Farson produced.
* * * * *
"Tomorrow," the leader glanced from face to face, "we start inland.
Here--" On a map spread before him he indicated a line marked in purple.
"Ten years ago I was a member of the Verdane expedition. Once, when
flying due south, our plane was caught by some freakish air current and
drawn off its course. When we were totally off our map, we saw in the
distance a thick bluish haze. It seemed to rise in a straight line from
the ice plain to the sky. Unfortunately our fuel was low and we dared
not risk a closer investigation. So we fought our way back to the base.
"Verdane, however, had little interest in our report and we did not
investigate it. Three years ago that Kattack expedition, hunting oil
deposits by the order of the Dictator, reported seeing the same haze.
This time we are going to explore it!"
"Why," Garin asked curiously, "are you so eager to penetrate this
haze?--I gather that's what we're to do--"
Farson hesitated before answering. "It has often been suggested that
beneath the ice sheeting of this continent may be hidden mineral wealth.
I believe that the haze is caused by some form of volcanic activity, and
perhaps a break in the crust."
Garin frowned at the map. He wasn't so sure about that explanation, but
Farson was paying the bills. The flyer shrugged away his uneasiness.
Much could be forgiven a man who allowed one to eat regularly again.
Four days later they set out. Helmly, one of the engineers, Rawlson, a
pilot, and Farson occupied the first plane. The other engineer and pilot
were in the second and Garin, with the extra supplies, was alone in the
third.
He was content to be alone as they took off across the blue-white waste.
His ship, because of its load, was loggy, so he did not attempt to
follow the other two into the higher lane. They were in communication by
radio and Garin, as he snapped on his earphones, remembered something
Farson had said that morning:
"The haze affects radio. On our trip near it the static was very bad.
Almost," with a laugh, "like speech in some foreign tongue."
As they roared over the ice Garin wondered if it might have been
speech--from, perhaps, a secret enemy expedition, such as the Kattack
one.
In his sealed cockpit he did not feel the bite of the frost and the ship
rode smoothly. With a little sigh of content he settled back against the
cushions, keeping to the course set by the planes ahead and above him.
Some five hours after they left the base, Garin caught sight of a dark
shadow far ahead. At the same time Farson's voice chattered in his
earphones.
"That's it. Set course straight ahead."
The shadow grew until it became a wall of purple-blue from earth to sky.
The first plane was quite close to it, diving down into the vapor.
Suddenly the ship rocked violently and swung earthward as if out of
control. Then it straightened and turned back. Garin could hear Farson
demanding to know what was the matter. But from the first plane there
was no reply.
As Farson's plane kept going Garin throttled down. The actions of the
first ship indicated trouble. What if that haze were a toxic gas?
"Close up, Featherstone!" barked Farson suddenly.
He obediently drew ahead until they flew wing to wing. The haze was just
before them and now Garin could see movement in it, oily, impenetrable
billows. The motors bit into it. There was clammy, foggy moisture on the
windows.
Abruptly Garin sensed that he was no longer alone. Somewhere in the
empty cabin behind him was another intelligence, a measuring power. He
fought furiously against it--against the very idea of it. But, after a
long, terrifying moment while it seemed to study him, it took control.
His hands and feet still manipulated the ship, but _it_ flew!
On the ship hurtled through the thickening mist. He lost sight of
Farson's plane. And, though he was still fighting against the will which
over-rode his, his struggles grew weaker. Then came the order to dive
into the dark heart of the purple mists.
* * * * *
Down they whirled. Once, as the haze opened, Garin caught a glimpse of
tortured gray rock seamed with yellow. Farson had been right: here the
ice crust was broken.
Down and down. If his instruments were correct the plane was below sea
level now. The haze thinned and was gone. Below spread a plain cloaked
in vivid green. Here and there reared clumps of what might be trees. He
saw, too, the waters of a yellow stream.
But there was something terrifyingly alien about that landscape. Even as
he circled above it, Garin wrested to break the grip of the will that
had brought him there. There came a crackle of sound in his earphones
and at that moment the Presence withdrew.
The nose of the plane went up in obedience to his own desire.
Frantically he climbed away from the green land. Again the haze absorbed
him. He watched the moisture bead on the windows. Another hundred feet
or so and he would be free of it--and that unbelievable world beneath.
Then, with an ominous sputter, the port engine conked out. The plane
lurched and slipped into a dive. Down it whirled again into the steady
light of the green land.
Trees came out of the ground, huge fern-like plants with crimson scaled
trunks. Toward a clump of these the plane swooped.
Frantically Garin fought the controls. The ship steadied, the dive
became a fast glide. He looked for an open space to land. Then he felt
the landing gear scrape some surface. Directly ahead loomed one of the
fern trees. The plane sped toward the long fronds. There came a ripping
crash, the splintering of metal and wood. The scarlet cloud gathering
before Garin's eyes turned black.
_CHAPTER TWO_
_The Folk of Tav_
Garin returned to consciousness through a red mist of pain. He was
pinned in the crumpled mass of metal which had once been the cabin.
Through a rent in the wall close to his head thrust a long spike of
green, shredded leaves still clinging to it. He lay and watched it, not
daring to move lest the pain prove more than he could bear.
It was then that he heard the pattering sound outside. It seemed as if
soft hands were pushing and pulling at the wreck. The tree branch shook
and a portion of the cabin wall dropped away with a clang.
Garin turned his head slowly. Through the aperture was clambering a
goblin figure.
It stood about five feet tall, and it walked upon its hind legs in human
fashion, but the legs were short and stumpy, ending in feet with five
toes of equal length. Slender, shapely arms possessed small hands with
only four digits. The creature had a high, well-rounded forehead but no
chin, the face being distinctly lizard-like in contour. The skin was a
dull black, with a velvety surface. About its loins it wore a short kilt
of metallic cloth, the garment being supported by a jeweled belt of
exquisite workmanship.
For a long moment the apparition eyed Garin. And it was those golden
eyes, fixed unwinkingly on his, which banished the flyer's fear. There
was nothing but great pity in their depths.
The lizard-man stooped and brushed the sweat-dampened hair from Garin's
forehead. Then he fingered the bonds of metal which held the flyer, as
if estimating their strength. Having done so, he turned to the opening
and apparently gave an order, returning again to squat by Garin.
Two more of his kind appeared to tear away the ruins of the cockpit.
Though they were very careful, Garin fainted twice before they had freed
him. He was placed on a litter swung between two clumsy beasts which
might have been small elephants, except that they lacked trunks and
possessed four tusks each.
They crossed the plain to the towering mouth of a huge cavern where the
litter was taken up by four of the lizard-folk. The flyer lay staring up
at the roof of the cavern. In the black stone had been carved fronds and
flowers in bewildering profusion. Shining motes, giving off faint light,
sifted through the air. At times as they advanced, these gathered in
clusters and the light grew brighter.
Midway down a long corridor the bearers halted while their leader pulled
upon a knob on the wall. An oval door swung back and the party passed
through.
They came into a round room, the walls of which had been fashioned of
creamy quartz veined with violet. At the highest point in the ceiling a
large globe of the motes hung, furnishing soft light below.
Two lizard-men, clad in long robes, conferred with the leader of the
flyer's party before coming to stand over Garin. One of the robed ones
shook his head at the sight of the flyer's twisted body and waved the
litter on into an inner chamber.
Here the walls were dull blue and in the exact center was a long block
of quartz. By this the litter was put down and the bearers disappeared.
With sharp knives the robed men cut away furs and leather to expose
Garin's broken body.
They lifted him to the quartz table and there made him fast with metal
bonds. Then one of them went to the wall and pulled a gleaming rod. From
the dome of the roof shot an eerie blue light to beat upon Garin's
helpless body. There followed a tingling through every muscle and joint,
a prickling sensation in his skin, but soon his pain vanished as if it
had never been.
The light flashed off and the three lizard-men gathered around him. He
was wrapped in a soft robe and carried to another room. This, too, was
circular, shaped like the half of a giant bubble. The floor sloped
toward the center where there was a depression filled with cushions.
There they laid Garin. At the top of the bubble, a pinkish cloud formed.
He watched it drowsily until he fell asleep.
Something warm stirred against his bare shoulder. He opened his eyes,
for a moment unable to remember where he was. Then there was a plucking
at the robe twisted about him and he looked down.
[Illustration]
If the lizard-folk had been goblin in their grotesqueness this visitor
was elfin. It was about three feet high, its monkey-like body completely
covered with silky white hair. The tiny hands were human in shape and
hairless, but its feet were much like a cat's paws. From either side of
the small round head branched large fan-shaped ears. The face was furred
and boasted stiff cat whiskers on the upper lip. These _Anas_, as Garin
learned later, were happy little creatures, each one choosing some
mistress or master among the Folk, as this one had come to him. They
were content to follow their big protector, speechless with delight at
trifling gifts. Loyal and brave, they could do simple tasks or carry
written messages for their chosen friend, and they remained with him
until death. They were neither beast nor human, but rumored to be the
result of some experiment carried out eons ago by the Ancient Ones.
After patting Garin's shoulder the Ana touched the flyer's hair
wonderingly, comparing the bronze lengths with its own white fur. Since
the Folk were hairless, hair was a strange sight in the Caverns. With a
contented purr, it rubbed its head against his hand.
With a sudden click a door in the wall opened. The Ana got to its feet
and ran to greet the newcomers. The chieftain of the Folk, he who had
first discovered Garin, entered, followed by several of his fellows.
The flyer sat up. Not only was the pain gone but he felt stronger and
younger than he had for weary months. Exultingly, he stretched wide his
arms and grinned at the lizard-being who murmured happily in return.
Lizard-men busied themselves about Garin, girding on him the short kilt
and jewel-set belt which were the only clothing of the Caverns. When
they were finished, the chieftain took his hand and drew him to the
door.
They traversed a hallway whose walls were carved and inlaid with
glittering stones and metalwork, coming, at last, into a huge cavern,
the outer walls of which were hidden by shadows. On a dais stood three
tall thrones and Garin was conducted to the foot of these.
The highest throne was of rose crystal. On its right was one of green
jade, worn smooth by centuries of time. At the left was the third,
carved of a single block of jet. The rose throne and that of jet were
unoccupied, but in the seat of jade reposed one of the Folk. He was
taller than his fellows, and in his eyes, as he stared at Garin, was
wisdom--and a brooding sadness.
"It is well!" The words resounded in the flyer's head. "We have chosen
wisely. This youth is fit to mate with the Daughter. But he will be
tried, as fire tries metal. He must win the Daughter forth and strive
with Kepta--"
A hissing murmur echoed through the hall. Garin guessed that hundreds of
the Folk must be gathered there.
"Urg!" the being on the throne commanded.
The chieftain moved a step toward the dais.
"Do you take this youth and instruct him. And then will I speak with him
again. For--" sadness colored the words now--"we would have the rose
throne filled again and the black one blasted into dust. Time moves
swiftly."
The Chieftain led a wondering Garin away.
_CHAPTER THREE_
_Garin Hears of the Black Ones_
Urg brought the flyer into one of the bubble-shaped rooms which
contained a low, cushioned bench facing a metal screen--and here they
seated themselves.
What followed was a language lesson. On the screen appeared objects
which Urg would name, to have his sibilant uttering repeated by Garin.
As the American later learned, the ray treatment he had undergone had
quickened his mental powers, and in an incredibly short time he had a
working vocabulary.
Judging by the pictures the lizard folk were the rulers of the crater
world, although there were other forms of life there. The elephant-like
_Tand_ was a beast of burden, the squirrel-like _Eron_ lived underground
and carried on a crude agriculture in small clearings, coming shyly
twice a year to exchange grain for a liquid rubber produced by the Folk.
Then there was the _Gibi_, a monstrous bee, also friendly to the lizard
people. It supplied the cavern dwellers with wax, and in return the Folk
gave the Gibi colonies shelter during the unhealthful times of the Great
Mists.
Highly civilized were the Folk. They did no work by hand, except the
finer kinds of jewel setting and carving. Machines wove their metal
cloth, machines prepared their food, harvested their fields, hollowed
out new dwellings.
Freed from manual labor they had turned to acquiring knowledge. Urg
projected on the screen pictures of vast laboratories and great
libraries of scientific lore. But all they knew in the beginning, they
had learned from the Ancient Ones, a race unlike themselves, which had
preceded them in sovereignty over _Tav_. Even the Folk themselves were
the result of constant forced evolution and experimentation carried on
by these Ancient Ones.
All this wisdom was guarded most carefully, but against what or whom,
Urg could not tell, although he insisted that the danger was very real.
There was something within the blue wall of the crater which disputed
the Folk's rule.
As Garin tried to probe further a gong sounded. Urg arose.
"It is the hour of eating," he announced. "Let us go."
They came to a large room where a heavy table of white stone stretched
along three walls, benches before it. Urg seated himself and pressed a
knob on the table, motioning Garin to do likewise. The wall facing them
opened and two trays slid out. There was a platter of hot meat covered
with rich sauce, a stone bowl of grain porridge and a cluster of fruit,
still fastened to a leafy branch. This the Ana eyed so wistfully that
Garin gave it to the creature.
The Folk ate silently and arose quietly when they had finished, their
trays vanishing back through the wall. Garin noticed only males in the
room and recalled that he had, as yet, seen no females among the Folk.
He ventured a question.
Urg chuckled. "So, you think there are no women in the Caverns? Well, we
shall go to the Hall of Women that you may see."
To the Hall of Women they went. It was breath-taking in its richness,
stones worth a nation's ransom sparkling from its domed roof and painted
walls. Here were the matrons and maidens of the Folk, their black forms
veiled in robes of silver net, each cross strand of which was set with a
tiny gem, so that they appeared to be wrapped in glittering scales.
There were not many of them--a hundred perhaps. And a few led by the
hand smaller editions of themselves, who stared at Garin with round
yellow eyes and chewed black fingertips shyly.
The women were intrusted with the finest jewel work, and with pride they
showed the stranger their handiwork. At the far end of the hall was a
wonderous thing in the making. One of the silver nets, which were the
foundations of their robes, was fastened there and three of the women
were putting small rose jewels into each microscopic setting. Here and
there they had varied the pattern with tiny emeralds or flaming opals,
so that the finished portion was a rainbow.
One of the workers smoothed the robe and glanced up at Garin, a gentle
teasing in her voice as she explained:
"This is for the Daughter when she comes to her throne."
The Daughter! What had the Lord of the Folk said? "This youth is fit to
mate with the Daughter." But Urg had said that the Ancient Ones had gone
from Tav.
"Who is the Daughter?" he demanded.
"Thrala of the Light."
"Where is she?"
The woman shivered and there was fear in her eyes. "Thrala lies in the
Caves of Darkness."
"The Caves of Darkness!" Did she mean Thrala was dead? Was he, Garin
Featherstone, to be the victim of some rite of sacrifice which was
designed to unite him with the dead?
Urg touched his arm. "Not so. Thrala has not yet entered the Place of
Ancestors."
"You know my thoughts?"
Urg laughed. "Thoughts are easy to read. Thrala lives. Sera served the
Daughter as handmaiden while she was yet among us. Sera, do you show us
Thrala as she was."
The woman crossed to a wall where there was a mirror such as Urg had
used for his language lesson. She gazed into it and then beckoned the
flyer to stand beside her.
The mirror misted and then he was looking, as if through a window, into
a room with walls and ceiling of rose quartz. On the floor were thick
rugs of silver rose. And a great heap of cushions made a low couch in
the center.
"The inner chamber of the Daughter," Sera announced.
* * * * *
A circular panel in the wall opened and a woman slipped through. She was
very young, little more than a girl. There were happy curves in her full
crimson lips, joyous lights in her violet eyes.
She was human of shape, but her beauty was unearthly. Her skin was pearl
white and other colors seemed to play faintly upon it, so that it
reminded Garin of mother-of-pearl with its lights and shadows. The hair,
which veiled her as a cloud, was blue-black and reached below her knees.
She was robed in the silver net of the Folk and there was a heavy girdle
of rose-shaded jewels about her slender waist.
"That was Thrala before the Black Ones took her," said Sera.
Garin uttered a cry of disappointment as the picture vanished. Urg
laughed.
"What care you for shadows when the Daughter herself waits for you? You
have but to bring her from the Caves of Darkness--"
"Where are these Caves--" Garin's question was interrupted by the
pealing of the Cavern gong. Sera cried out:
"The Black Ones!"
Urg shrugged. "When they spared not the Ancient Ones how could we hope
to escape? Come, we must go to the Hall of Thrones."
Before the jade throne of the Lord of the Folk stood a small group of
the lizard-men beside two litters. As Garin entered the Lord spoke.
"Let the outlander come hither that he may see the work of the Black
Ones."
Garin advanced unwillingly, coming to stand by those struggling things
which gasped their message between moans and screams of agony. They were
men of the Folk but their black skins were green with rot.
The Lord leaned forward on his throne. "It is well," he said. "You may
depart."
As if obeying his command, the tortured things let go of the life to
which they had clung and were still.
"Look upon the work of the Black Ones," the ruler said to Garin. "Jiv
and Betv were captured while on a mission to the Gibi of the Cliff. It
seems that the Black Ones needed material for their laboratories. They
seek even to give the Daughter to their workers of horror!"
A terrible cry of hatred arose from the hall, and Garin's jaw set. To
give that fair vision he had just seen to such a death as this--!
"Jiv and Betv were imprisoned close to the Daughter and they heard the
threats of Kepta. Our brothers, stricken with foul disease, were sent
forth to carry the plague to us, but they swam through the pool of
boiling mud. They have died, but the evil died with them. And I think
that while we breed such as they, the Black Ones shall not rest easy.
Listen now, outlander, to the story of the Black Ones and the Caves of
Darkness, of how the Ancient Ones brought the Folk up from the slime of
a long dried sea and made them great, and of how the Ancient Ones at
last went down to their destruction."
_CHAPTER FOUR_
_The Defeat of the Ancient Ones_
"In the days before the lands of the outer world were born of the sea,
before even the Land of the Sun (Mu) and the Land of the Sea (Atlantis)
arose from molten rock and sand, there was land here in the far south. A
sere land of rock plains, and swamps where slimy life mated, lived and
died.
"Then came the Ancient Ones from beyond the stars. Their race was
already older than this earth. Their wise men had watched its
birth-rending from the sun. And when their world perished, taking most
of their blood into nothingness, a handful fled hither.
"But when they climbed from their space ship it was into hell. For they
had gained, in place of their loved home, bare rock and stinking slime.
"They blasted out this Tav and entered into it with the treasures of
their flying ships and also certain living creatures captured in the
swamps. From these, they produced the Folk, the Gibi, the Tand, and the
land-tending Eron.
"Among these, the Folk were eager for wisdom and climbed high. But still
the learning of the Ancient Ones remained beyond their grasp.
"During the eons the Ancient Ones dwelt within their protecting wall of
haze the outer world changed. Cold came to the north and south; the Land
of Sun and the Land of Sea arose to bear the foot of true man. On their
mirrors of seeing the Ancient Ones watched man-life spread across the
world. They had the power of prolonging life, but still the race was
dying. From without must come new blood. So certain men were summoned
from the Land of the Sun. Then the race flourished for a space.
"The Ancient Ones decided to leave Tav for the outer world. But the sea
swallowed the Land of Sun. Again, in the time of the Land of Sea, the
stock within Tav was replenished and the Ancient Ones prepared for
exodus; again the sea cheated them.
"Those men left in the outer world reverted to savagery. Since the
Ancient Ones would not mingle their blood with that of almost beasts,
they built the haze wall stronger and remained. But a handful of them
were attracted by the forbidden, and secretly they summoned the beast
men. Of that monstrous mating came the Black Ones. They live but for the
evil they may do, and the power which they acquired is debased and used
to forward cruelty.
"At first their sin was not discovered. When it was, the others would
have slain the offspring but for the law which forbids them to kill.
They must use their power for good or it departs from them. So they
drove the Black Ones to the southern end of Tav and gave them the Caves
of Darkness. Never were the Black Ones to come north of the River of
Gold--nor were the Ancient Ones to go south of it.
"For perhaps two thousand years the Black Ones kept the law. But they
worked, building powers of destruction. While matters rested thus, the
Ancient Ones searched the world, seeking men by whom they could renew
the race. Once there came men from an island far to the north. Six lived
to penetrate the mists and take wives among the Daughters. Again, they
called the yellow-haired men of another breed, great sea rovers.
"But the Black Ones called too. As the Ancient Ones searched for the
best, the Black Ones brought in great workers of evil. And, at last,
they succeeded in shutting off the channels of sending thought so that
the Ancient Ones could call no more.
"Then did the Black Ones cross the River of Gold and enter the land of
the Ancient Ones. Thran, Dweller in the Light and Lord of the Caverns,
summoned the Folk to him.
"'There will come one to aid you,' he told us. 'Try the summoning again
after the Black Ones have seemed to win. Thrala, Daughter of the Light,
will not enter into the Room of Pleasant Death with the rest of the
women, but will give herself into the hands of the Black Ones, that they
may think themselves truly victorious. You of the Folk withdraw into the
Place of Reptiles until the Black Ones are gone. Nor will all the
Ancient Ones perish--more will be saved, but the manner of their
preservation I dare not tell. When the sun-haired youth comes from the
outer world, send him into the Caves of Darkness to rescue Thrala and
put an end to evil.'
"And then the Lady Thrala arose and said softly, 'As the Lord Thran has
said, so let it be. I shall deliver myself into the hands of the Black
Ones that their doom may come upon them.'
"Lord Thran smiled upon her as he said: 'So will happiness be your
portion. After the Great Mists, does not light come again?'
"The women of the Ancient Ones then took their leave and passed into the
place of Pleasant Death while the men made ready for battle with the
Black Ones. For three days they fought, but a new weapon of the Black
Ones won the day, and the chief of the Black Ones set up this throne of
jet as proof of his power. Since, however, the Black Ones were not happy
in the Caverns, longing for the darkness of their caves, they soon
withdrew and we, the Folk, came forth again.
"But now the time has come when the dark ones will sacrifice the
Daughter to their evil. If you can win her free, outlander, they shall
perish as if they had not been."
"What of the Ancient Ones?" asked Garin--"those others Thran said would
be saved?"
"Of those we know nothing save that when we bore the bodies of the
fallen to the Place of Ancestors there were some missing. That you may
see the truth of this story, Urg will take you to the gallery above the
Room of Pleasant Death and you may look upon those who sleep there."
Urg guiding, Garin climbed a steep ramp leading from the Hall of
Thrones. This led to a narrow balcony, one side of which was clear
crystal. Urg pointed down.
They were above a long room whose walls were tinted jade green. On the
polished floor were scattered piles of cushions. Each was occupied by a
sleeping woman and several of these clasped a child in their arms. Their
long hair rippled to the floor, their curved lashes made dark shadows on
pale faces.
"But they are sleeping!" protested Garin.
Urg shook his head. "It is the sleep of death. Twice each ten hours
vapors rise from the floor. Those breathing them do not wake again, and
if they are undisturbed they will lie thus for a thousand years. Look
there--"
He pointed to the closed double doors of the room. There lay the first
men of the Ancient Ones Garin had seen. They, too, seemed but asleep,
their handsome heads pillowed on their arms.
"Thran ordered those who remained after the last battle in the Hall of
Thrones to enter the Room of Pleasant Death that the Black Ones might
not torture them for their beastly pleasures. Thran himself remained
behind to close the door, and so died."
There were no aged among the sleepers. None of the men seemed to count
more than thirty years and many of them appeared younger. Garin remarked
upon this.
"The Ancient Ones appeared thus until the day of their death, though
many lived twice a hundred years. The light rays kept them so. Even we
of the Folk can hold back age. But come now, our Lord Trar would speak
with you again."
_CHAPTER FIVE_
_Into the Caves of Darkness_
Again Garin stood before the jade throne of Trar and heard the stirring
of the multitude of the Folk in the shadows. Trar was turning a small
rod of glittering, greenish metal around in his soft hands.
"Listen well, outlander," he began, "for little time remains to us.
Within seven days the Great Mists will be upon us. Then no living thing
may venture forth from shelter and escape death. And before that time
Thrala must be out of the Caves. This rod will be your weapon; the Black
Ones have not its secret. Watch."
Two of the Folk dragged an ingot of metal before him. He touched it with
the rod. Great flakes of rust appeared to spread across the entire
surface. It crumpled away and one of the Folk trod upon the pile of dust
where it had been.
"Thrala lies in the heart of the Caves but Kepta's men have grown
careless with the years. Enter boldly and trust to fortune. They know
nothing of your coming or of Thran's words concerning you."
Urg stood forward and held out his hands in appeal.
"What would you, Urg?"
"Lord, I would go with the outlander. He knows nothing of the Forest of
the Morgels or of the Pool of Mud. It is easy to go astray in the
woodland--"
Trar shook his head. "That may not be. He must go alone, even as Thran
said."
The Ana, which had followed in Garin's shadow all day, whistled shrilly
and stood on tiptoe to tug at his hand. Trar smiled. "That one may go,
its eyes may serve you well. Urg will guide you to the outer portal of
the Place of Ancestors and set you upon the road to the Caves. Farewell,
outlander, and may the spirits of the Ancient Ones be with you."
Garin bowed to the ruler of the Folk and turned to follow Urg. Near the
door stood a small group of women. Sera pressed forward from them,
holding out a small bag.
"Outlander," she said hurriedly, "when you look upon the Daughter speak
to her of Sera, for I have awaited her many years."