The Altar of the Flaming God
It was at the moment that Tarzan turned from the closed door to pursue
his way to the outer world. The thing came without warning. One instant
all was quiet and stability—the next, and the world rocked, the
tortured sides of the narrow passageway split and crumbled, great
blocks of granite, dislodged from the ceiling, tumbled into the narrow
way, choking it, and the walls bent inward upon the wreckage. Beneath
the blow of a fragment of the roof, Tarzan staggered back against the
door to the treasure room, his weight pushed it open and his body
rolled inward upon the floor.
In the great apartment where the treasure lay less damage was wrought
by the earthquake. A few ingots toppled from the higher tiers, a single
piece of the rocky ceiling splintered off and crashed downward to the
floor, and the walls cracked, though they did not collapse.
There was but the single shock, no other followed to complete the
damage undertaken by the first. Werper, thrown to his length by the
suddenness and violence of the disturbance, staggered to his feet when
he found himself unhurt. Groping his way toward the far end of the
chamber, he sought the candle which Tarzan had left stuck in its own
wax upon the protruding end of an ingot.
By striking numerous matches the Belgian at last found what he sought,
and when, a moment later, the sickly rays relieved the Stygian darkness
about him, he breathed a nervous sigh of relief, for the impenetrable
gloom had accentuated the terrors of his situation.
As they became accustomed to the light the man turned his eyes toward
the door—his one thought now was of escape from this frightful tomb—and
as he did so he saw the body of the naked giant lying stretched upon
the floor just within the doorway. Werper drew back in sudden fear of
detection; but a second glance convinced him that the Englishman was
dead. From a great gash in the man’s head a pool of blood had collected
upon the concrete floor.
Quickly, the Belgian leaped over the prostrate form of his erstwhile
host, and without a thought of succor for the man in whom, for aught he
knew, life still remained, he bolted for the passageway and safety.
But his renewed hopes were soon dashed. Just beyond the doorway he
found the passage completely clogged and choked by impenetrable masses
of shattered rock. Once more he turned and re-entered the treasure
vault. Taking the candle from its place he commenced a systematic
search of the apartment, nor had he gone far before he discovered
another door in the opposite end of the room, a door which gave upon
creaking hinges to the weight of his body. Beyond the door lay another
narrow passageway. Along this Werper made his way, ascending a flight
of stone steps to another corridor twenty feet above the level of the
first. The flickering candle lighted the way before him, and a moment
later he was thankful for the possession of this crude and antiquated
luminant, which, a few hours before he might have looked upon with
contempt, for it showed him, just in time, a yawning pit, apparently
terminating the tunnel he was traversing.
Before him was a circular shaft. He held the candle above it and peered
downward. Below him, at a great distance, he saw the light reflected
back from the surface of a pool of water. He had come upon a well. He
raised the candle above his head and peered across the black void, and
there upon the opposite side he saw the continuation of the tunnel; but
how was he to span the gulf?
As he stood there measuring the distance to the opposite side and
wondering if he dared venture so great a leap, there broke suddenly
upon his startled ears a piercing scream which diminished gradually
until it ended in a series of dismal moans. The voice seemed partly
human, yet so hideous that it might well have emanated from the
tortured throat of a lost soul, writhing in the fires of hell.
The Belgian shuddered and looked fearfully upward, for the scream had
seemed to come from above him. As he looked he saw an opening far
overhead, and a patch of sky pinked with brilliant stars.
His half-formed intention to call for help was expunged by the
terrifying cry—where such a voice lived, no human creatures could
dwell. He dared not reveal himself to whatever inhabitants dwelt in the
place above him. He cursed himself for a fool that he had ever embarked
upon such a mission. He wished himself safely back in the camp of
Achmet Zek, and would almost have embraced an opportunity to give
himself up to the military authorities of the Congo if by so doing he
might be rescued from the frightful predicament in which he now was.
He listened fearfully, but the cry was not repeated, and at last
spurred to desperate means, he gathered himself for the leap across the
chasm. Going back twenty paces, he took a running start, and at the
edge of the well, leaped upward and outward in an attempt to gain the
opposite side.
In his hand he clutched the sputtering candle, and as he took the leap
the rush of air extinguished it. In utter darkness he flew through
space, clutching outward for a hold should his feet miss the invisible
ledge.
He struck the edge of the door of the opposite terminus of the rocky
tunnel with his knees, slipped backward, clutched desperately for a
moment, and at last hung half within and half without the opening; but
he was safe. For several minutes he dared not move; but clung, weak and
sweating, where he lay. At last, cautiously, he drew himself well
within the tunnel, and again he lay at full length upon the floor,
fighting to regain control of his shattered nerves.
When his knees struck the edge of the tunnel he had dropped the candle.
Presently, hoping against hope that it had fallen upon the floor of the
passageway, rather than back into the depths of the well, he rose upon
all fours and commenced a diligent search for the little tallow
cylinder, which now seemed infinitely more precious to him than all the
fabulous wealth of the hoarded ingots of Opar.
And when, at last, he found it, he clasped it to him and sank back
sobbing and exhausted. For many minutes he lay trembling and broken;
but finally he drew himself to a sitting posture, and taking a match
from his pocket, lighted the stump of the candle which remained to him.
With the light he found it easier to regain control of his nerves, and
presently he was again making his way along the tunnel in search of an
avenue of escape. The horrid cry that had come down to him from above
through the ancient well-shaft still haunted him, so that he trembled
in terror at even the sounds of his own cautious advance.
He had gone forward but a short distance, when, to his chagrin, a wall
of masonry barred his farther progress, closing the tunnel completely
from top to bottom and from side to side. What could it mean? Werper
was an educated and intelligent man. His military training had taught
him to use his mind for the purpose for which it was intended. A blind
tunnel such as this was senseless. It must continue beyond the wall.
Someone, at some time in the past, had had it blocked for an unknown
purpose of his own. The man fell to examining the masonry by the light
of his candle. To his delight he discovered that the thin blocks of
hewn stone of which it was constructed were fitted in loosely without
mortar or cement. He tugged upon one of them, and to his joy found that
it was easily removable. One after another he pulled out the blocks
until he had opened an aperture large enough to admit his body, then he
crawled through into a large, low chamber. Across this another door
barred his way; but this, too, gave before his efforts, for it was not
barred. A long, dark corridor showed before him, but before he had
followed it far, his candle burned down until it scorched his fingers.
With an oath he dropped it to the floor, where it sputtered for a
moment and went out.
Now he was in total darkness, and again terror rode heavily astride his
neck. What further pitfalls and dangers lay ahead he could not guess;
but that he was as far as ever from liberty he was quite willing to
believe, so depressing is utter absence of light to one in unfamiliar
surroundings.
Slowly he groped his way along, feeling with his hands upon the
tunnel’s walls, and cautiously with his feet ahead of him upon the
floor before he could take a single forward step. How long he crept on
thus he could not guess; but at last, feeling that the tunnel’s length
was interminable, and exhausted by his efforts, by terror, and loss of
sleep, he determined to lie down and rest before proceeding farther.
When he awoke there was no change in the surrounding blackness. He
might have slept a second or a day—he could not know; but that he had
slept for some time was attested by the fact that he felt refreshed and
hungry.
Again he commenced his groping advance; but this time he had gone but a
short distance when he emerged into a room, which was lighted through
an opening in the ceiling, from which a flight of concrete steps led
downward to the floor of the chamber.
Above him, through the aperture, Werper could see sunlight glancing
from massive columns, which were twined about by clinging vines. He
listened; but he heard no sound other than the soughing of the wind
through leafy branches, the hoarse cries of birds, and the chattering
of monkeys.
Boldly he ascended the stairway, to find himself in a circular court.
Just before him stood a stone altar, stained with rusty-brown
discolorations. At the time Werper gave no thought to an explanation of
these stains—later their origin became all too hideously apparent to
him.
Beside the opening in the floor, just behind the altar, through which
he had entered the court from the subterranean chamber below, the
Belgian discovered several doors leading from the enclosure upon the
level of the floor. Above, and circling the courtyard, was a series of
open balconies. Monkeys scampered about the deserted ruins, and gaily
plumaged birds flitted in and out among the columns and the galleries
far above; but no sign of human presence was discernible. Werper felt
relieved. He sighed, as though a great weight had been lifted from his
shoulders. He took a step toward one of the exits, and then he halted,
wide-eyed in astonishment and terror, for almost at the same instant a
dozen doors opened in the courtyard wall and a horde of frightful men
rushed in upon him.
They were the priests of the Flaming God of Opar—the same, shaggy,
knotted, hideous little men who had dragged Jane Clayton to the
sacrificial altar at this very spot years before. Their long arms,
their short and crooked legs, their close-set, evil eyes, and their
low, receding foreheads gave them a bestial appearance that sent a
qualm of paralyzing fright through the shaken nerves of the Belgian.
With a scream he turned to flee back into the lesser terrors of the
gloomy corridors and apartments from which he had just emerged, but the
frightful men anticipated his intentions. They blocked the way; they
seized him, and though he fell, groveling upon his knees before them,
begging for his life, they bound him and hurled him to the floor of the
inner temple.
The rest was but a repetition of what Tarzan and Jane Clayton had
passed through. The priestesses came, and with them La, the High
Priestess. Werper was raised and laid across the altar. Cold sweat
exuded from his every pore as La raised the cruel, sacrificial knife
above him. The death chant fell upon his tortured ears. His staring
eyes wandered to the golden goblets from which the hideous votaries
would soon quench their inhuman thirst in his own, warm life-blood.
He wished that he might be granted the brief respite of unconsciousness
before the final plunge of the keen blade—and then there was a
frightful roar that sounded almost in his ears. The High Priestess
lowered her dagger. Her eyes went wide in horror. The priestesses, her
votaresses, screamed and fled madly toward the exits. The priests
roared out their rage and terror according to the temper of their
courage. Werper strained his neck about to catch a sight of the cause
of their panic, and when, at last he saw it, he too went cold in dread,
for what his eyes beheld was the figure of a huge lion standing in the
center of the temple, and already a single victim lay mangled beneath
his cruel paws.
Again the lord of the wilderness roared, turning his baleful gaze upon
the altar. La staggered forward, reeled, and fell across Werper in a
swoon.