GAGE OF BATTLE
The chief of the People of the Abyss was seated at his ease in
a large stone chair, over which heavy layers of weed-fabric had been
thrown. He was flanked on either side by spearsmen and by drummers,
who still held their iron sticks poised above their copper drums with
shark-skin heads.
Stern saw at a glance that he was a man well over six feet tall, with
whipcord muscles and a keen, eager, domineering air. Unlike any of the
other Folk, his hair (snow-white) was not twisted into a fantastic
knot and fastened with gold pins, but hung loose and was cut square
off at about the level of his shoulders, forming a tremendous, bristly
mass that reminded one of a lion's mane.
Across his left temple, and involving his left eye with a ghastly
mutilation, ran a long, jagged, bright red scar, that stood out
vividly against the milk-white skin. In his hands he held no mace, no
symbol of power; they rested loosely on his powerful knees; and in
their half-crooked fingers, large and long, Stern knew there lay a
formidable, an all but irresistible strength.
At sight of the captives--for Beatrice, too, now suddenly appeared,
thrust forward through another lane among the Folk--Kamrou's keenly
cruel face grew hard. His lips curled with a sneer of scorn and hate.
His pinkish eyes glittered with anticipation. Full on his face the
flare of the great flame fell; Stern could see every line and wrinkle,
and he knew that to beg mercy from this huge barbarian (even though he
would have begged), were a task wholly vain and futile.
He glanced along the circle of expectant faces that ringed the chief
at a distance of some fifteen feet. Surely, thought he, some of the
many Folk that he and the girl had saved from butchery, some to whom
they had taught the rudiments of the world's lost arts, would now show
pity on them--would stand by them now!
But no; not one face of all that multitude--now that Kamrou had
returned--evinced other than eager interest to see the end of
everything. To Stern flashed the thought that here, despite their
seeming half-civilization in the use of metals, fire, dwellings,
fabrics and all the rest, dwelt within them a savagery even below that
of the ancient, long-extinct American Indians.
And well he knew that if both he and Beatrice were not to die the
death this day, only upon themselves they must depend!
Yes, one face showed pity. But only one--the patriarch's.
Stern suddenly caught sight of him, standing in the front rank of the
circled crowd, about twenty feet away to the left, just beyond the
girl. Tears gleamed in the old man's sightless eyes; his lips
quivered; the engineer saw his hands tremble as he twisted the feeble,
impotent fingers together in anguish.
And though he could catch no sound in that rising, falling,
ever-roaring tumult of the flame, he knew the patriarch, with some
vague and distant remnant of the old-time and vanished religion of the
world, was striving to pray.
Stern's eyes met the girl's. Neither could speak, for she, too, was
gagged with a rough band of fabric which cruelly cut her beautiful,
her tender mouth. At sight of her humiliation and her pain, the man's
heart leaped hotly; he strained against his bonds till the veins
swelled, and with eyes of terrible rage and hate stared at Kamrou.
But the chief's gaze was now fixed insolently upon Beatrice. She, as
she stood there, stripped even of her revolver and cartridge-belt,
hands bound behind her, hair disheveled, had caught his barbarous
fancy. And now in his look Stern saw the kindling of a savage passion
so ardent, so consuming, that the man's heart turned sick within him.
"Ten thousand times better she should die!" thought he, racked at the
thought of what might be. "Oh, God! If I only had my revolver for a
single minute now! One shot for Kamrou--one for Beatrice--and after
that, nothing would matter; nothing!"
Came a disturbance in the Folk. Heads craned; a murmur of voices rose.
The patriarch, no longer trembling, but with his head held proudly up,
both hands outstretched, had stepped into the circle. And now,
advancing toward Kamrou, he spoke in quick and eager sentences--he
gestured at the engineer, raised his hand on high, bowed and stepped
back.
And all at once a wild, harsh, swelling chorus of cries arose; every
face turned toward Stern; the engineer, amazed, knew not what all this
meant, but to the ultimate drop in the arteries he pledged his
fighting-blood to one last, bitter struggle.
Silence again.
Kamrou had not stirred. Still his great hands rested on his knees; but
a thin, venomous smile lengthened his lips. He, too, looked at the
engineer, who gave the stare back with redoubled hate. Tense grew the
expectation of the Folk.
"What the devil now?" thought Stern, tautening event muscle for the
expected attack.
But attack there came none. Instead the patriarch asked a question of
those who stood near him; and hands now guided the old man toward the
place where Stern was standing, bound.
"O friend; O son!" exclaimed the old man when he had come close. "Now
hearken! For, verily, this is the only way!
"It is an ancient custom of the Merucaans that any man captive or
free, can ever challenge our chief, whosoever he be, to the
death-combat. If the chief wins, he remains chief. If he loses, the
victor takes his place. Many hundreds of years, I know not how long,
this has been our way. And many terrible combats have been seen here
among our people.
"Kamrou has said that you must die, the girl must be his prize. Only
one way remains to save her and yourself--you must struggle with
Kamrou. I have delivered to him your challenge already. Let fate
decide the issue!"
Everything seemed to whirl before Stern's eyes, and for a moment all
grew black. In his ears sounded a great roaring, louder than the roar
of the huge flame. Quick questions flashed through his mind. Fight
Kamrou? But how? A duel with revolvers? Spears? Maces?
He knew not. Only he knew that in whatever way the ancient combats
must be held he was ready!
"You affirm the challenge I have given in your behalf?" demanded the
patriarch. "If you accept it, nod."
Stern nodded with all the vigor of his terrible rage. Kamrou's eyes
narrowed; his smile grew fixed and hard, but in it Stern perceived the
easy contempt of a bully toward any chance weakling. And through him
thrilled a passion of hate such as he had never dreamed in all his
life.
Came a quick word from the patriarch. Somebody was slashing the
engineer's bonds. All at once the ropes gave way. Free and unfettered,
he stepped forward, stretching his arms, opening and closing his
cramped, numbed hands, out into the ring toward Kamrou, the chief.
Off came the gag. Stern could speak at last.
His first word was to the girl.
"Beatrice!" he called to her, "there's one chance left! I'm to fight
this ruffian here. If I beat him we're free--we own this tribe, body
and soul! If not--"
He broke off short. Even the possibility was not to be considered.
She looked at him and understood his secret thought. Well the man knew
that Beatrice would die by her own hand before Kamrou should have his
way with her.
The patriarch spoke again.
"My son," said he, "there is but one way for all these combats. It has
been so these many centuries. By the smooth edge of the great boiling
pit the fights are held. Man against man it is. Verily, you two with
only your hands must fight! He who loses--"
"Goes into the pit?"
The old man nodded.
"There is no other way," he answered. "The new, terrible weapons you
cannot use. The arrows, slings and spears are all forbidden by ancient
custom. It is the naked grasp of the hands, the strong muscles of two
men against each other! So we decide our chief!
"I, alas, can help you in nothing. I am powerless, weak, old. Were I
to interfere now and try to change this way, my own body would only go
to the pit, and my old bones hang, headless, in the place of captives
and criminals. All lies in your hands, my son!
"All; everything! Our whole future, and the future of the world! If
you lose, the wonderful machine will be destroyed and all its metal
forged into spears and battle axes. Barbarism will conquer; darkness
will continue, and war, and death. All will be forever lost!
"The last ray of hope, of light, from the great past of the upper
world, will vanish forever! Your own death, my son, and the fate of
the girl, will be as nothing beside the terrible catastrophe, if you
are beaten.
"For, verily, it will be the death of the world!
"And now, my son, now go to battle--to battle for this woman, for
yourself, for us, for the future of our race, for everything!
"Kamrou is ready. The pit is boiling.
"Go now! Fight--and--and--"
His voice was lost in a great tumult of cries, yells, shouts. Spears
brandished. Came a sound of shields struck with clubs and axes. The
copper drums again began to throb and clang.
Kamrou had risen from his seat.
Stern knew the supreme moment of his life was at hand.