"Whatever it is," said Chip tightly, "I've got an idea it isn't going
to be pleasant. They're gathering; hear their footsteps and voices? And
there's something like the beat of a tom-tom--" He stared at Salvation
speculatively. "Padre--torture?"
Salvation stroked his long, lean jaw. "I hope not, my son. But--I don't
know. They are savages, and I have heard they place much faith in rites
and ceremonies. But we will learn soon. Meanwhile, keep faith with Him
who watches us all."
They learned sooner than they dared expect. Whatever else might lay in
store for them, they were at least spared the agony of waiting. The
Titanian preparations took but little time. Within scant hours after
their incarceration, the three Earthmen were once again dragged from
their prison to meet their judgment and their fate.
* * * * *
That some form of ritual was in progress was immediately apparent.
From hillside, rock, cranny and hovel had come the Titanians; there
were more of them than Chip would have believed could subsist in this
hostile environment. A solid phalanx of them walled the avenue up which
they were led. As they walked, the Titanians chanted a slow and ominous
threnody. There was a dirgelike quality to the chant; despite the
surface courage with which Chip bolstered himself he felt the chill of
nervous apprehension upon him. Palmer must have felt the same way. He
edged closer to Chip, spoke from the corner of his mouth in a tone that
belied the forced gaiety of his words.
"Swell end to our trip, pal. _Piece de resistance_ for a gang of green
choristers!"
Salvation overheard him. "We have not yet come to the end of our
journey," he said. "The line stretches up the side of yonder hill. To
those caves." He lifted his voice sonorously, drawing curious stares
from the green-skinned Titanian guards. "I shall lift up mine eyes unto
the hills," he cried, "whence cometh my strength and my salvation--"
"Caves!" Sudden memory flashed back upon Chip Warren. "Jenkins said
something about caves, Padre, remember? Caves and flame--"
"There's Amborg," interrupted Syd. His plump face was tightly pale
behind his globular mask. "I don't care so much about checking out," he
said, "but I wish I could get my hands on that rat just for a minute
before--"
His words dwindled into silence. It was, Chip believed, an impressed
silence. For they had reached the foot of the hill, now, and were
climbing between two chanting rows of natives toward a huge, ornate,
altarlike structure placed before the largest of the cave-mouths.
The dirge rose and soared, filling their ears with numbing fear; they
moved upward inexorably, monotonously, almost mechanically. And finally
they stood before the high altar.
Chip saw, then, what he would never have credited if it had been told
him by another; what he could not have believed had he not seen it with
his own eyes. He saw into the cave-mouth--and what he viewed there was
so incredible that it brought a gasp unbidden to his lips.
This cave, deepset in the mouths of icy Titania--this cave, which by
all laws of nature, of logic and reason, should be a dank, forbidding
gateway to frightful cold--was bright-gleaming with orange, crimson,
ochre tongues of flame! Within it, high-rising to the very lofted
vaults, roared a staggering, tremendous holocaust of fire!
And beyond the altar was a precipice overlooking a sunken vale. This
vale, like the interior of the cave, was shimmering like the plains of
Abaddon with coruscating fingers, sheets, spires of red.
He was aware that he had gasped, for he detected a similar gasp
from Syd, and he heard Salvation Smith say a single, incredulous
word. "Sheol!" Then the chieftain, or high priest--Chip did not know
which--spoke from the altar. Shortly he spoke, but with strident
emphasis, jabbing his fingers at the two groups of captives in turn.
"What is he saying?" demanded Chip.
Salvation interpreted hastily. "We have violated their land. We have
been brought to the Place of Destruction to meet judgment for our
crime. The test of fire will prove our guilt--" Then he raised his
voice, spoke to the Titanian ruler.
The outland ruler heard him through, then answered. Salvation turned to
Chip and Syd. "I told him," he explained, "that we were friends, come
in amity. That we intended them no harm or offense--"
"And what did he say?"
"He said," relayed Salvation grudgingly, "that they were forced to
distrust us because our 'companions' were men of sin and violence--"
"Companions!" interjected Syd angrily.
"--and he said, also, that he realized we might be gods. He says there
are two types of white creatures, those who are mortals and evil, and
those who are Masters of Fire. We must be tested to see which we are."
"Two types?" cried Chip. "Masters of Fire? Padre, what does he mean?"
Salvation shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. But wait--he is talking
again."
* * * * *
This time the green chieftain's speech was longer, more dramatic. He
postured, gestured; once he strode to the edge of his raised platform
and pointed majestically down into the chasm below. Then, concluding
his words with a tone of finality, he folded his arms across his chest.
Chip noticed that a few rods away Amborg's Uranian companion was
interpreting his decision to Blaze. Salvation performed the same
function.
"He says," explained Salvation, "we must walk into this cave of fearful
flame. It leads through burning corridors to the valley below. In that
valley is the life-skiff which brought Amborg and his men here.
"If we are good men, gods, and guiltless, the flame will not destroy
us. There was one not long ago who walked unscathed through the fires,
he says. That man was surely a god."
"Jenkins!" broke in Chip. "It must have been--"
Salvation nodded. "That is what I thought, too, my son. But--but
how? How could Jenkins survive the flames?" And he stared sombrely,
questioningly, at the sheet of ruddy fire filling the cave from base
to arch. He shook himself. "Well--that is a problem we must solve, and
soon. For the ceremony has begun. _Amborg!_" he cried.
The dark man turned. Chip saw that his face was set in granite lines.
Nearest to the cavern mouth, his men were being prodded toward the
awful test they must endure.
Even in this critical moment, Salvation was the man of god. "Amborg,"
he said, "you have been ever an evil man, living and thinking the
thoughts of Satan. But there is yet time for you to repent and
confess your sins. As a fellow man, I loathe and despise you. But as
His emissary, I offer you even in this hour of trial the peace that
surpasseth all human understanding--"
Amborg laughed at him. His voice crackled harshly, metallically, in the
audio-phones of Chip's space-helmet.
"Save that stuff for the suckers, old man. You and your pals are
just worried because we get first chance to go down into the valley.
Well--you'd better worry! There's a rotor-gun mounted in that
life-skiff. If we hadn't all been jarred cold when we landed, we'd have
given these greenies a sweet greeting. We're going to lift the ship out
of that ditch and bring it back over here. Save your prayers; you'll
need them when we come over!"