THE END AND THE BEGINNING
On the day following that when she had summoned Eddo to speak with her,
Nya sat at the mouth of the cave. It was late afternoon, and already
the shadows gathered so quickly that save for her white hair, her
little childlike shape, withered now almost to a skeleton, was scarcely
visible against the black rock. Walking to and fro in her aimless
fashion, as she would do for hours at a time, Rachel accompanied by
Noie passed and repassed her, till at length the old woman lifted her
head and listened to something which was quite inaudible to their ears.
Then she beckoned to Noie, who led Rachel to her.
“Maiden beloved,” she said in a feeble voice, after they had sat down
in front of her, “my hour has come, I have sent for thee to bid thee
farewell till we meet again in a country where thou hast travelled for
a little while. Before the sun sets I pass within the Fence.”
At this tidings Rachel began to weep, for she had learned to love this
old dwarf-woman who had been so kind to her in her misery, and she was
now so weak that she could not restrain her fears.
“Mother,” she said, “for thee it is joy to go. I know it, and therefore
cannot wish that thou shouldst stay. Yet what shall I do when thou hast
left me alone amidst all these cruel folk? Tell me, what shall I do?”
“Perchance thou wilt seek another helper, Maiden, and perchance thou
shall find another to guard and comfort thee. Follow thy heart, obey
thy heart, and remember the last words of Nya—that no harm shall come
to thee. Nay—if I know it, I may tell thee no more, thou who couldst
not hear what the drums said to me but now. Farewell,” and turning
round she made a sign to certain dwarf-mutes who were gathered behind
her as though they awaited her commands.
“Hast thou no last word for me, Mother?” asked Noie.
“Aye, Child,” she answered. “Thy heart is very bold, and thou also must
follow it. Though thy sin should be great, perchance thy greater love
may pay its price. At least thou art but an arrow set upon the string,
and that which must be, will be. I think that we shall meet again ere
long. Come hither and kneel at my side.”
Noie obeyed, and for a little space Nya whispered in her ear, while as
she listened Rachel saw strange lights shining in Noie’s eyes, lights
of terror and of pride, lights of hope and of despair.
“What did she say to you, Noie?” asked Rachel presently.
“I may not tell, Zoola,” she answered. “Question me no more.”
Now the mutes brought forward a slight litter woven of boughs on which
the withered leaves still hung, boughs from Nya’s fallen tree. In this
litter they placed her, for she could no longer walk, and lifted it on
to their shoulders. For one moment she bade them halt, and calling
Rachel and Noie to her, kissed them upon the brow, holding up her thin
child-like hands over them in blessing. Then followed by them both, the
bearers went forward with their burden, taking the road that ran up the
hill towards the sacred tree. As the sun set they passed within the
Fence, and laying down the litter without a word by the bole of the
tree, turned and departed.
The darkness fell, and through it Rachel and Noie heard Nya singing for
a little while. The song ceased, and they descended the hill to the
cave, for there they feared to stay lest the Tree should draw them
also. They ate a little food whilst the two women mutes who had sat on
each side of Nya when she showed her magic, stared, now at them, and
now into the bowls of dew that were set before them, wherein they
seemed to find something that interested them much. Noie prayed Rachel
to sleep, and she tried to do so, and could not. For hour after hour
she tossed and turned, and at length sat up, saying to Noie:
“I have fought against it, and I can stay here no longer. Noie, I am
being drawn from this place out into the forest, and I must go.”
“What draws thee, Sister?” asked Noie. “Is it Eddo?”
“No, I think not, nothing to do with Eddo. Oh! Noie, Noie, it is the
spirit of Richard Darrien. He is dead, but for days and weeks his
spirit has been with my spirit, and now it draws me into the forest to
die and find him.”
“Then that is an evil journey thou wouldst take, Zoola?”
“Not so, Noie, it is the best and happiest of journeys. The thought of
it fills me with joy. What said Nya? Follow thy heart. So I follow it.
Noie, farewell, for I must go away.”
“Nay,” answered Noie, “if thou goest I go, who also was bidden to
follow my heart that is sister to thy heart.”
Rachel reasoned with her, but she would not listen. The end of it was
that the two of them rose and threw on their cloaks; also Rachel took
the great Umkulu spear which she had used as a staff on her journey
from the desert to the forest. All this while the dwarf-women watched
her, but did nothing, only watched.
They left the cave and walked to the mouth of the zig-zag slit in the
great wall which was open.
“Perhaps the mutes will kill us in the heart of the wall,” said Noie.
“If so the end will be soon and swift,” answered Rachel.
Now they were in the cleft, following its slopes and windings. Above
them they could hear the movements of the guardians of the wall who sat
amongst the rough stones, but these did not try to stop them; indeed
once or twice when they did not know which way to turn in the darkness,
little hands took hold of Rachel’s cloak and guided her. So they passed
through the wall in safety. Outside of it Rachel paused a moment,
looking this way and that. Then of a sudden she turned and walked
swiftly towards the south.
It was dark, densely dark in the forest, yet she never seemed to lose
her path. Holding Noie by the hand she wound in and out between the
tree-trunks without stumbling or even striking her foot against a root.
For an hour or more they walked on this, the strangest of strange
journeys, till at length Rachel whispered:
“Something tells me to stay here,” and she leaned against a tree and
stayed, while Noie, who was tired, sat down between the jutting roots
of the tree.
It was a dead tree, and the top of it had been torn off in some
hurricane so that they could see the sky above them, and by the grey
hue of it knew that it was drawing near to dawn.
The sun rose, and its arrows, that even at midday could never pass the
canopy of foliage, shot straight and vivid between the tall bare
trunks. Oh! Rachel knew the place. It was that place which she had
dreamed of as a child in the island of the flooded river. Just so had
the light of the rising sun fallen on the boles of the great trees, and
on her white cloak and out-spread hair, fallen on her and on another.
She strained her eyes into the gloom. Now those rays pierced it also,
and now by them she saw the yellow-bearded, half-naked man of that
long-dead dream leaning against the tree. His eyes were shut, without
doubt he was dead, this was but a vision of him who had drawn her
hither to share his death. It was the spirit of Richard Darrien!
She drew a little nearer, and the eyes opened, gazing at her. Also from
that form of his was cast a long shadow—there it lay upon the dead
leaves. How came it, she wondered, that a spirit could throw a shadow,
and why was a spirit bound to a tree, as now she perceived he was? He
saw her, and in those grey eyes of his there came a wonderful look. He
spoke.
“You have drawn me from far, Rachel, but I have never seen all of you
before, only your face floating in the air before me, although others
saw you. Now I see you also, so I suppose that my time has come. It
will soon be over. Wait a little there, where I can look at you, and
presently we shall be together again. I am glad.”
Rachel could not speak. A lump rose in her throat and choked her.
Betwixt fear and hope her heart stood still. Only with the spear in her
hand she pointed at her own shadow thrown by the level rays of the
rising sun. He looked, and notwithstanding the straitness of his bonds
she saw him start.
“If you are a ghost why have you a shadow?” he asked hoarsely. “And if
you are not a ghost, how did you come into this haunted place?”
Still Rachel did not seem to be able to speak. Only she glided up to
him and kissed him on the lips. Now at length he understood—they both
understood that they were still living creatures beneath the sky, not
the denizens of some dim world which lies beyond.
“Free me,” he said in a faint voice, for his brain reeled. “I was bound
here in my sleep. They will be back presently.”
Her intelligence awoke. With a few swift cuts of the spear she held
Rachel severed his bonds, then picked up his own assegai that lay at
his feet she thrust it into his numbed hand. As he took it the forest
about them seemed to become alive, and from behind the boles of the
trees around appeared a number of dwarfs who ran towards them, headed
by Eddo. Noie sprang forward also, and stood at their side. Rachel
turned on Eddo swiftly as a startled deer. She seemed to tower over
him, the spear in her hand.
“What does this mean, Priest?” she asked.
“Inkosazana,” he answered humbly, “it means that I have found a way to
tempt thee from within the Wall where none might break thy sanctuary.
Thou drewest this man to thee from far with the strength that old Nya
gave thee. We knew it all, we saw it all, and we waited. Day by day in
our bowls of dew we watched him coming nearer to thee. We heard the
messages of Nya on the drums, bidding the Umkulu meet and escort him;
we heard the last answering message from the borders of the desert,
telling her that he was nigh. Then while he followed his magic path
through the darkness of the forest we seized and bound him, knowing
well that if he could not come to thee, thou wouldst come to him. And
thou hast come.”
“I understand. What now, Eddo?”
“This, Inkosazana: Thou hast been named Mother of the Trees by the
people of the Dwarfs; be pleased to come with us that we may instal
thee in thy great office.”
“This lord here,” said Rachel, “is my promised husband. What of him?”
Eddo bowed and smiled, a fearful smile, and answered:
“The Mother of the Trees has no husband. Wisdom is her husband. He has
served his purpose, which was to draw thee from within the Wall, and
for this reason only we permitted him to enter the holy forest living.
Now he bides here to die, and since he has won thy love we will honour
him with the White Death. Bind him to the tree again.”
In an instant the spear that Rachel held was at Eddo’s throat.
“Dwarf,” she cried, “this is my man, and I am no Mother of Trees and no
pale ghost, but a living woman. Let but one of these monkeys of thine
lay a hand upon him, and thou diest, by the Red Death, Eddo, aye, by
the Red Death. Stir a single inch, and this spear goes through thy
heart, and thy spirit shall be spilled with thy blood.”
The little priest sank to his knees trembling, glancing about him for a
means of escape.
“If thou killest me, thou diest also,” he hissed.
“What do I care if I die?” she answered. “If my man dies, I wish to
die,” then added in English: “Richard, take hold of him by one arm, and
Noie, take the other. If he tries to escape kill him at once, or if you
are afraid, I will.”
So they seized him by his arms.
“Now,” said Rachel, “let us go back to the Sanctuary, for there they
dare not touch us. We cannot try the desert without water; also they
would follow and kill us with their poisoned arrows. Tell them, Noie,
that if they do not attempt to harm us, we will set this priest of
theirs free within the Wall. But if a hand is lifted against us, then
he dies at once—by the Red Death.”
“Touch them not, touch them not,” piped Eddo, “lest my ghost should be
spilt with my blood. Touch them not, I command you.”
The company of dwarfs chattered together like parrots at the dawn, and
the march began. First went Eddo, dragged along between Richard and
Noie, and after them, the raised spear in her hand, followed Rachel,
while on either side, hiding themselves behind the boles of the trees,
scrambled the people of the dwarfs. Back they went thus through the
forest, Rachel telling them the road till at length the huge grey wall
loomed up before them. They came to the slit in it, and Noie asked:
“What shall we do now? Kill this priest, take him in with us as a
hostage, or let him go?”
“I said that he should be set free,” answered Rachel, “and he would do
us more harm dead than living; also his blood would be on our hands.
Take him through the Wall, and loose him there.”
So once more they passed the slopes and passages, while the mutes above
watched them from their stones with marvelling eyes, till they reached
the open space beyond, and there they loosed Eddo. The priest sprang
back out of reach of the dreaded spears, and in a voice thick with
rage, cried to them:
“Fools! You should have killed me while you could, for now you are in a
trap, not I. You are strong and great, but you cannot live without
food. We may not enter here to hurt you, but you shall starve, you
shall starve until you creep out and beg my mercy.”
Then making signs to the dwarfs who sat about above, he vanished
between the stones.
“You should have killed him, Zoola,” said Noie, “for now he will live
to kill us.”
“I think not, Sister,” answered Rachel. “Nya said that I should follow
my heart, and my heart bid me let him go. Our hands are clean of his
blood, but if he had died, who can tell? Blood is a bad seed to sow.”
Then, forgetting Eddo, she turned to Richard and began to ply him with
questions.
But he seemed to be dazed and could answer little. It was as though
some unnatural, supporting strength had been withdrawn, and now all the
fatigues of his fearful journey were taking effect upon him. He could
scarcely stand, but reeled to and fro like a man in drink, so that the
two women were obliged to support him across the burial ground towards
the cave. Advancing thus they entered into the shadow of the Holy Tree,
and there at the edge of it met another procession descending from the
mound. Eight mutes bore a litter of boughs, and on it lay Nya, dead,
her long white hair hanging down on either side of the litter. With
bowed heads they stood aside to let her pass to the grave made ready
for her in a place of honour near the Wall where for a thousand years
only the Mothers of the Trees had been laid to rest.
Then they went on, and entered the cave where the lamps burned before
the great stalactite and the heap of offerings that were piled about
it. Here sat the two women priests gazing into their bowls as they had
left them. The death of Nya had not moved them, the advent of this
white man did not seem to move them. Perhaps they expected him; at any
rate food was made ready, and a bed of rugs prepared on which he could
lie.
Richard ate some of the food, staring at Rachel all the while with
vacant eyes as though she were still but a vision, the figment of a
dream. Then he muttered something about being very tired, and sinking
back upon the rugs fell into a deep sleep.
In that sleep he remained scarcely stirring for full four-and-twenty
hours, while Rachel watched by his side, till at length her weariness
overcame her, and she slept also. When she opened her eyes again they
saw no other light than that which crept in from the mouth of the cave.
The lamps which always burned there were out. Noie, who was seated near
by, heard her stir, and spoke.
“If thou art rested, Zoola,” she said, “I think that we had better
carry the white lord from this place, for the two witch-women have
gone, and I can find no more oil to fill the lamps.”
So they felt their way to Richard, purposing to lift him between them,
but at Rachel’s touch he awoke, and with their help walked out of the
cave. In the open space beyond they saw a strange sight, for across it
were streaming all the dwarf-mutes carrying their aged and sick and
infants, and bearing on their backs or piled up in litters their mats
and cooking utensils. Evidently they were deserting the Sanctuary.
“Why are they going?” asked Rachel.
“I do not know,” answered Noie, “but I think it is because no food has
been brought to them as usual, and they are hungry. You remember that
Eddo said we should starve. Only fear of death by hunger would make
them leave a place where they and their forefathers have lived for
generations.”
Presently they were all gone. Not a living creature was left within the
Wall except these three, nor were any more dwarfs brought in to die
beneath the Holy Tree. Now, at length Richard seemed to awake, and
taking Rachel by the hand began to ask questions of her in a low
stammering voice, since words did not seem to come readily to him who
had not spoken his own language for so long.
“Before you begin to talk, Sister,” broke in Noie, “let us go and see
if we can close the cleft in the Wall, for otherwise how shall we sleep
in peace? Eddo and the dwarfs might creep in by night and murder us.”
“I do not think they dare shed blood in their Holy Place,” answered
Rachel. “Still, let us see what we can do; it may be best.”
So they went to the cleft, and as the stone door was open and they
could not shut it, at one very narrow spot they rolled down rocks from
the loose sides of the ancient wall above in such a fashion that it
would be difficult to pass through or over them from without. This hard
task took them many hours, moreover, it was labour wasted, since, as
Rachel had thought probable, the dwarfs never tried to pass the Wall,
but waited till hunger forced them to surrender.
Towards evening they returned to the cave and collected what food they
could find. It was but little, enough for two spare meals, no more; nor
could they discover any in the town of the dwarfs behind the Tree. Only
of water they had plenty from the stream that ran out of the cave.
They ate a few mouthfuls, then took their mats and cloaks and went to
camp by the opening in the wall, so that they might guard against
surprise. Now for the first time they found leisure to talk, and Rachel
and Richard told each other a little of their wonderful stories. But
they did not tell them all, for their minds seemed to be bewildered,
and there was much that they were not able to explain. It was enough
for them to know that they had been brought together again thus
marvellously, by what power they knew not, and that still living, they
who for long weeks had deemed the other dead, were able to hold each
other’s hands and gaze into each other’s eyes. Moreover, now that this
had been brought about they were tired, so tired that they could
scarcely speak above a whisper. The end of it was that they fell
asleep, all of them, and so slept till morning, when they awoke
somewhat refreshed, and ate what remained of the food.
The second day was like the first, only hotter and more sultry. Noie
climbed to the top of the wall to watch, while Richard and Rachel
wandered about among the little, antheap-like graves, and through the
dwarf village, talking and wondering, happy even in their wretchedness.
But before the day was gone hunger began to get a hold of them; also
the terrible, stifling heat oppressed them so that their words seemed
to die between their lips, and they could only sit against the wall,
looking at one another.
Towards evening Noie descended from the Wall and reported that large
numbers of the dwarfs were keeping watch without, flitting to and fro
between the trunks of the trees like shadows. The stifling night went
by, and another day dawned. Having no food they went to the stream and
drank water. Then they sat down in the shadow and waited through the
long hot hours. Towards evening, when it grew a little cooler, they
gathered up their strength and tried to find some way of escape before
it was too late. Richard suggested that as flight was impossible they
should give themselves up to the dwarfs, but Rachel answered No, for
then Eddo would certainly kill him and Noie, and take her to fill the
place of Mother of the Trees until she became useless to him, when she
would be murdered also.
“Then there is nothing left for us but to die,” said Richard.
“Nothing but to die,” she answered, “to die together; and, dear, that
should not be so hard, seeing that for so long we have thought each
other dead apart.”
“Yet it is hard,” answered Richard, “after living through so much and
being led so far to die at last and go whither we know not, before our
time.”
Rachel looked at Noie, who sat opposite to them, her head rested on her
hand.
“Have you anything to say, Sister?” she asked.
“Yes, Zoola. Here is a little moss that I have found upon the stones,”
and she produced a small bundle. “Let us boil it and eat, it will keep
us alive for another day.”
“What is the use?” asked Rachel, “unless there is more.”
“There is no more,” said Noie, “for the leaves of yonder tree are
deadly poison, and here grows no other living thing. Still, eat and
live on, for I wait a message.”
“A message from whom?” asked Rachel.
“A message from the dead, Sister. It was promised to me by Nya before
she passed, and if it does not come, then it will be time to die.”
So they made fire and boiled the moss till it was a horrible, sticky
substance, which they swallowed as best they could, washing it down
with gulps of water. Still it was food of a kind, and for a while
stayed the gnawing, empty pains within them; only Noie ate but little,
so that there might be more for the others.
That night was even hotter than those that had gone before, and during
the day which followed the place became like a hell. They crept into
the cave and lay there gasping, while from without came loud cracking
sounds, caused, as they thought, by the trees of the forest splitting
in the heat. About midday the sky suddenly became densely overcast,
although no breath stirred; the air was thicker than ever, to breathe
it was like breathing hot cream. In their restless despair they
wandered out of the cave, and to their surprise saw a dwarf standing
upon the top of the wall. It was Eddo, who called to them to come out
and give themselves up.
“What are the terms?” asked Noie.
“That thou and the Wanderer shall die by the White Death, and that the
Inkosazana shall be installed Mother of the Trees,” was the answer.
“We refuse them,” said Noie. “Let us go now and give us food and
escort, and thou shall be spared. Refuse, and it is thou and thy people
who will die by that Red Death which Nya promised thee.”
“That we shall learn before to-morrow,” said Eddo with a mocking laugh,
and vanished down the wall.
As he went a hot gust of wind burst upon them, causing the forest
without to rock and groan. Noie turned her face towards it and seemed
to listen.
“What is it?” asked Rachel.
“I heard a voice in the wind, Sister,” she answered. “The message I
awaited has come to me.”
“What message?” asked Richard listlessly.
“That I will tell you by and by, Chief,” she answered. “Come to the
cave, it is no longer safe here, the hurricane breaks.”
So supporting each other they crept back to the cave, and there Noie
made fire, feeding it with the idols and precious woods that had been
brought thither as offerings. Richard and Rachel watched her wondering,
for it seemed strange that she should make a fire in that heat where
there was nothing to cook. Meanwhile gust succeeded gust, until a
tempest of screaming wind swept over them, though no rain fell. Soon it
was so fierce that the deep-rooted Tree of the Tribe rocked above them,
and loose stones were blown from the crest of the great wall.
Then of a sudden Noie sprang up, and seized a flaming brand from the
fire; it was the limb of a fetish, made of some resinous wood. She ran
from the cave swiftly, before they could stop her, and vanished in the
gathering gloom, to return again in a few moments weak and breathless.
“Come out, now,” she said, “and see a sight such as you shall never
behold again,” and there was something so strange in her voice that,
notwithstanding their weakness, they rose and followed her.
Outside the cave they could not stand because of the might of the
hurricane, but cast themselves upon the ground, and following Noie’s
outstretched arm, looked up towards the top of the mound. Then they saw
that the Tree of the Tribe was _on fire_. Already its vast trunk and
boughs were wrapped in flame, which burnt furiously because of the
resin within them, while long flakes of blazing moss were being swept
away to leeward, to fall among the forest that lay beyond the wall.
“Did you do this?” cried Rachel to Noie.
“Aye, Zoola, who else? That was the message which came to me. Now my
office is fulfilled, but you two will live though I must die, I who
have destroyed the People of the Dwarfs; I who was born that I should
destroy them.”
“Destroyed them!” exclaimed Rachel. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that when their Tree dies, they die, the whole race of them.
Oh! Nya told me, Nya told me—they die as their Tree dies, by fire. To
the Wall, to the Wall now, and look. Follow me.”
Forgetting their hunger-bred weakness in the wild excitement of that
moment, Rachel and Richard struggled hand in hand, after Noie’s thin,
ethereal form. Across the open space they struggled, through the
furious bufferings of the gale, sometimes on their feet, sometimes on
their hands and knees, till they came to the great wall where a
stairway ran up it to an outlook tower. Up this stair they climbed
slowly since at times the weight of the wind pinned them against the
blocks of stone, till at length they reached its crest and crept into
the shelter of the hollow tower. Hence, looking through the loopholes
in the ancient masonry, they saw a fearful sight. The flakes of burning
moss from the Tree of the Tribe had fallen among the tops of the
forest, parched almost to tinder with drought and heat, and fired them
here and there. Fanned by the screaming gale the flames spread rapidly,
leaping from tree to tree, now in one direction, now in another, as the
hurricane veered, which it did continually, till the whole green forest
became a sheet of fire, an ever-widening sheet which spread east and
west and north and south for miles and miles and tens of miles.
Earth and sky were one blaze of light given out by the torch-like
resinous trees as they burned from the top downwards. By that intense
light the three watchers could see hundreds of the People of the Dwarfs
flitting about between the trunks. Waving their arms and gibbering,
they rushed this way and that, to the north to be met by fire, to the
south to be met by fire, till at length the blazing boughs and boles
fell upon them and they disappeared in showers of red sparks, or, more
fortunate, fled away, never to return, before the flame that leapt
after them. One company of them ran towards the Sanctuary; they could
see them threading their path between the trees, and growing ever fewer
as the burning branches fell among them from above. They leapt, they
ran, they battled, springing this way and that, but ever the great
flaring boughs crashed down among them, crushing them, shrivelling them
up, till at length of all their number but a single man staggered into
the open belt between the edge of the forest and the wall. His white
hair and his garments seemed to be smouldering. He gripped at them with
his hands, then coming to a little bush—it was the top of Nya’s tree
which she had thrust into the ground to grow there—dragged it up and
began to beat himself with it as though to extinguish the flames. In an
instant it took fire also, burning him horribly, so that with a yell he
threw it to the ground, and ran on towards the wall. As he came they
saw his face. It was that of Eddo.
At this moment, seized by some sudden weakness, Noie sank down upon the
stones. Richard bent over her to lift her to her feet again, but she
thrust him away, saying slowly and in gasps:
“Let me be, the doom has hold of me, I am dying. I passed within the
Fence to fire the Tree, and its poison is at work within me, and the
curse of all my people has fallen on my head. Yet I have saved thee, my
sister, I have saved thee and thy lover, for the Dwarfs are no more,
the Grey People are grey ashes. For my love’s sake I did the sin; let
my love atone the sin if it may, or at the least think kindly of me
through the long, happy years that are to come, and at the end of them
then seek for lost Noie in the World of Ghosts if she may be found
there.”
As she spoke they heard a sound of something scrambling among the
stones, and at one of the four entrances of the turret there appeared a
hideous, fire-twisted face, and a little form about which hung charred
and smouldering strips of raiment. It was Eddo, who had climbed the
wall and found them out. There he sat glowering at them, or rather at
Noie, who was crouched upon the floor.
“Come hither, daughter of Seyapi,” he screamed in his hissing,
snake-like voice, “come hither, and see thy work, thou who hast made an
end of the ancient People of the Ghosts. Come hither and tell me why
thou didst this thing, for I would learn the truth before I die, that I
may make report of it to the Fathers of our race.”
Noie heard, and crept towards him; to Rachel and Richard it seemed as
though she could not disobey that summons. Now they sat face to face
outside the turret, clinging to the stones, and her long hair flowed
outwards on the gale.
“I did it, Eddo,” she said, “to save one whom I love, and him whom she
loves. I did it to avenge the death of Nya upon you all, as she bade me
to do. I did it because the cup of thy wickedness is full, and because
I was appointed to bring thy doom upon thee. Thus ends the greatness
thou hast plotted so many years to win, Eddo.”
“Aye,” he answered, “thus it ends, for the magic of the White One there
has overcome me, and thus with it ends the reign of the Ghost Kings,
and the forest wherein they reigned, and thus too, thou endest,
traitress, who hast murdered them and whose soul shall be spilt with
their souls.”
As the words left his lips suddenly Eddo sprang upon Noie and gripped
her about the middle. Richard and Rachel leapt forward, but before ever
they could lay a hand upon her to save her, the dwarf in his rage and
agony had dragged her to the edge of the wall. For a moment they
struggled there in the vivid light of the flaming forest. Then Eddo
screamed aloud, one wild savage shriek, and still holding Noie in his
arms hurled himself from the wall, to fall crushed upon its foundation
stones sixty feet beneath.
Thus perished Noie, who, for love’s sake, gave her life to save Rachel,
as once Rachel had saved her.
It was morning, and after the tempest the sky was clear and cool, for
heavy rain had fallen when the wind dropped, although far away the
dense clouds of rolling smoke showed where the great fire still ate
into the heart of the forest. Rachel and Richard, seated hand in hand
in the little tower on the wall, looked at one another in that pure
light, and saw signs in each other’s face that could not be mistaken.
“What shall we do?” asked Richard. “Death is very near to us.”
Rachel thought awhile, then answered:
“The dwarfs are gone, we have nothing more to fear from them. Yonder
where the fire did not burn, dwell their slaves, whose villages are
full of food, and beyond them live the Umkulu, who know and would
befriend me. Let us go and seek food who desire to live on together, if
we may.”
So they climbed down the wall, and with difficulty, for they were very
feeble, crawled over the stones which they had piled up in the passage
to keep out the dwarfs, and thus passed to the open belt beyond. A
strange scene met their eyes, all the wide lands that had been covered
with giant trees were now piled over with white ashes amongst which,
here and there, stood a black and smouldering trunk. The journey was
terrible, but following a ridge of rock whereon no great trees had
grown, hand in hand they passed through the outer edge of the burnt
forest in safety, until they came to one of the towns of the slaves
upon the fertile plain beyond, which led up to the desert. No human
being could they see, since all had fled, but the kraal was full of
sheep and cattle that had been penned there before the fire began, and
in the huts were milk and food in plenty. They drank of the milk and,
after a while, ate a little, then rested and drank more milk, till
their strength began to return to them. Towards evening they went out
of the town, and standing on a mound looked at the fire-wasted plain
behind, and the green, grassy slopes in front.
They seemed quite alone in the world, those two, and yet their hearts
were full of joy and thankfulness, for while they were left to each
other they knew that they could never be alone.
“See, Rachel,” said Richard, pointing to the smouldering wreck of the
forest, “there lies our past, and here in front of us spreads the
future clothed with flowers.”
“Yes, Richard,” she answered, “but Noie and all whom I love save you
are buried in that past, and in front of us the desert is not far
away.”
“Life is ours, Rachel, and love is ours, and that which saved us
through many a danger and brought me back to you, will surely keep us
safe. Do you fear to pass the desert at my side?”
She looked at him with shining eyes, and answered:
“No, Richard, I fear no more, for now I seem to hear the voice of Noie
speaking in my heart, telling me that trouble is behind us, and that we
shall live out our lives together, as my mother foresaw that we should
do.”
And there on the mound, standing between that dead sea of ashes and the
green slopes of flowering plain, Rachel stretched out her arms to the
man to whom she was decreed.