THE BATTLE IN THE CRATER
From the instant that the towering form of Minos disappeared through
the shrubbery of the terrace path, the exertions of Polaris and Kalin
were redoubled. In a few hours their preparations for the departure
into the wastes were complete.
Cautious as they were, they could not be entirely secret in their
goings and comings about the mountain, and many a curious priestly eye
was cast upon their doings by the servants of Kalin. One of them, a
dark-faced rascal by the name of Analos, more prying than the others,
soon discovered not only that the sledge of the strangers was being
stocked and provisioned to its full capacity, as though for a journey,
but the nature of some of the articles packed upon it made him certain
that his master Kalin was to make use of them.
Watchful for an opportunity, the priest Analos skirted the plateau and
slipped over the edge of the path.
He was as stealthy as a cat, but Polaris saw him go, and caught a
glimpse of his face as he disappeared.
"One of thy priests hath slipped away from thee, Kalin," he said.
"Methinks he hastened to Minos with a tale to tell."
They went to the brink of the terrace. Far below them Analos was
scuttling for the meadows like a scared rabbit, his priestly gown
tucked well about his flying legs.
In the small court in the rear of the house Polaris and Kalin finished
their work with the sledge and harnessed to it four of the small
Sardanian ponies, to drag it up through the spiral way of the Gateway
to the Future; for the path which Kalin purposed they should take led
straight through the gateway mountain, and was the only path out of the
valley, aside from the north pass, through which they had entered.
Just before they started Kalin summoned his priests and bade them
farewell, giving them his blessing, which they took with bended knees
and bowed heads, and several of them sobbing; for they loved Kalin
well. His words forestalled words of surprise or of protest.
"Children of Hephaistos, Kalin goeth hence for a time," he said.
"Perchance he will return; perchance thou shalt see his face no more.
Let none gainsay his going, for it is of the gods. Now, lest the wrath
of Minos lie heavily on thee, in suspicion that thou hast aided in the
passing of Kalin and the strangers from Sardanes, get thou gone from
the gateway to the valley, and spread diligently the report that Kalin
and the strange man cast thee forth, in danger of thy lives. Fare thee
well."
In a body the priests descended the terraces. As they stood at the
top to see them go, Kalin caught the shoulder of Polaris and pointed
over toward the white-walled Judgement House. From its pillared façade
streamed forth a line of hurrying Sardanians, and the sun shone
brightly on the ilium blades.
"Here come Minos and his men," said the priest shortly. "Take thy last
look on the valley of Sardanes, and let it be short."
"Farewell, Sardanes--beautiful, horrible Sardanes," breathed Rose Emer.
Then she, too, turned to the flight, and shuddered slightly as she
turned.
Then into the darkness of the arched portal and up through the spiraled
rocky way they urged the laboring ponies. Rose Emer carried two flaming
torches to light the gloom of the way, and the two men bent their
shoulders to the aid of the animals. Close at their heels slunk the
seven dogs of the pack, with hackles erect and eyes glowing in the
half dark of the place, the strangeness of which caused them many a
misunderstanding whimper. Stoutly the little horses bent to their work,
so that it chanced that they dragged the sledge out of the passage and
onto the shelf where were the chapels, at the same time that the first
of the runners of Minos leaped from the terrace path to the level of
the plateau, many feet below the fugitives.
Polaris turned to the right, where the broad ledge curved away past the
chapels along the mighty ellipse of the crater.
"Nay, brother, not that way!" called Kalin. "Here lieth the path," and
he turned the horses to the left, where the shelf narrowed at the point
where was the perch from which Polaris had witnessed the passing of
Chloran, Sardon's son.
So close to the brink of the ledge loomed the bulge of the crater wall
that there was but the barest room for the passing of the sledge.
It required all of the skill and patience of the men to guide the
snorting, frightened ponies. One misstep would have whirled the beasts
and sledge into the roaring fire-pit below; but they passed the neck of
the pathway without mishap, and, after a few yards' progress, found the
way widening and more smooth.
* * * * *
Scarcely had they passed the narrowest of the path when a shout from
behind told them that Minos and his men had emerged from the tortuous
spiral in the bowels of the cliffside, and had gained the shelf rim.
Then Polaris turned back.
"How far on lieth the vent in the wall of the mountain through which
we pass?" he asked of Kalin. The priest told him that it was nearly
half-way around the circumference of the crater rim. "Then haste thou
on, brother," said Polaris. "Get thee well through the last gate. I
will turn back and see what may be done to delay those who are in too
great haste behind us."
With a word of explanation to the girl, he took several spears and the
brown rifle from the sledge.
Kalin smiled at him grimly through the murk.
"Methinks they will try first the broad way, or divide, and follow both
paths," he said, "and they who go by the broad way will be fooled, for
it cometh to naught but a bridgeless gap yonder." He pointed across the
pit. "Those who come this way, hold thou back as long as may be--and
then come thou swiftly, brother, and I will show thee means to close
the way behind us."
Polaris ran back along the ledge. He came to the path neck again
without encountering any of the pursuers, although their voices sounded
from just beyond the bulge of the rock. Catching hand and footholds, he
swung himself easily to the perch above the path, crept forward, and
peered down at the platform.
Like rats from a hole, fully forty Sardanians had crept up through the
winding passage. When they saw the light flaring redly before them they
charged forward with a shout, expecting to find their quarry; and then
they stood gaping in surprise on the red emptiness of the platform,
where for centuries no Sardanian had stood, save the priests of the god
and those about to die.
In front of the chapels they gathered in a group, the fire vapor from
the abyss reflected from their staring faces in ghastly fashion. Only
Minos, the prince, tarried not to wonder. Swiftly he paced to the right
and to the left, inspecting the ledge with quick glances.
"Haste on the track of the strangers!" he cried. "Of old time have I
heard it that through the gateway lieth another path from Sardanes to
the wastes. It is that to which the false priest guideth them. Yonder
seemeth scant room for their sledge. Let us follow here."
He started along the broader way to the right, and his men, overcoming
in part their awe of the fearsome pit at their feet, began to follow;
albeit with care, and as far from the edge as they might walk.
"Nay, not all of ye!" called back the prince. "Garlanes, go thou with
men and explore the narrower way yonder."
With most of the Sardanians trailing at his back, Minos disappeared in
the murk beyond the chapels. Garlanes and fifteen men turned to the
pursuit of the narrow path. The old noble moved slowly, as though the
task to which he was set was little enough to his taste, and none of
his men was over hasty.
In silence Polaris watched the advance. He was minded to stay his hand
from strife as long as might be, and, if possible, to frighten the
pursuers back long enough to give the priest the time needed to thread
the pass with the sledge.
With that plan in mind, he prepared to surprise the men of Garlanes
when they should come near enough for his purpose. His trained ears,
deafened by the noises from the never silent crater pit, did not tell
him of a number of slinking forms that sniffed and crouched along the
rock wall and came to a halt almost at the foot of the jutting rock
where he crouched.
Foremost of the party of Garlanes was a tall young man. It chanced
that, without seeing it, he had come to the beginning of the sinister
chute in the floorway of the shelf--that polished slide through which
all Sardanians were shot to their fiery ends. At his feet, unnoticed in
the half light cast by the flicker, lay one of the wooden shield-like
vehicles in which the victims rode to death. Ahead of him the man saw
that the way grew suddenly narrower.
He paused and peered under his cupped hand.
Out of the gloom ahead of him came suddenly an ear-splitting rattling,
followed by a hiss and a weird moaning that caused the hair at the nape
of his neck to stiffen. Immediately the place was in echo to a full
throated, hideous chorus, that froze the blood in the veins of the
boldest Sardanian who heard it.
* * * * *
Cowering, and with staring eyeballs, the members of the searching party
saw their leader shaken in his tracks, apparently crumpled up by an
unseen force and whirled from them--out over the abyss of fire. One
glimpse only they caught of his flying body, dark against the ruddy
glow of the steam and smoke from the crater heart. For an instant the
great hollow of the funnel rang with his agonized shrieks as he shot
downward, and he was gone.
Only Polaris saw the end. Shaken with horror, he did not neglect to
turn to his advantage the accident; for accident it was. As the party
of Garlanes came on, he had smitten the wall at his side with the
shafts of the spears he carried, and had given vent at the same time to
a deep-chested groan. He did not know that the seven of the pack had
slunk back on his trail, and crouched at the foot of the rock, ready
for battle. Their echoing challenge to the foe startled him almost as
much as it did the Sardanians.
The young leader, in the face of that blast of clamor, had started so
violently that he struck his shins against the shield of wood at his
feet, collapsed into it, and was whirled down the terrible chute to
instant death.
Again the Sardanians proved their innate courage. Their companion torn
from them and cast to a fate that they could neither see nor explain,
his death-shrieks ringing in their ears, they did not break or give
back. They stood fast and made ready to advance. From the gloom in
front the menacing snarling of the dogs swelled in volume. It was
quieted again when spoke the voice of the dreaded stranger from the
snows.
"Back, ye men of Sardanes!" thundered Polaris from the height. "Back,
ere the fate of him who hath but now passed the gateway be your fate!
Back, and let the servant of Hephaistos and the strangers depart from
the land in peace. Here along the narrow way lie many sorts of death!"
Again he struck on the wall with the sheaf of spears.
"Now one of you," shouted Garlanes, "haste and summon the Prince Minos
and the others. Tell them that here the snow-dweller and his devils
hold the path, and that with them will be the Rose maiden and the
priest. Haste!"
One of the Sardanians set off along the ledge, making what haste he
dared. Garlanes himself advanced to the front. In the shifting light
from the chasm he found the opening to the chute, and warned his men
around it.
With his long arms swinging low, and his face raised to meet whatever
fate might lie before him, he walked straight toward the neck of the
pathway. A sudden flare from the fire-pit showed him the way at the
foot of the rock bulge, showed him that it was choked with dogs, their
gnashing snouts and glaring eyes thrust at him from around the turn
of the wall--and showed him, towering above, clearly outlined for an
instant, the form of their master with raised spear.
The time to fight had come.
Others besides Garlanes saw Polaris in the flare of the fire. As the
son of the snows quitted his place and leaped down to the ledge among
the dogs, several spears splintered against the rock wall where he had
stood.
Wondering much how Kalin and the Rose were faring, and if he might hold
off their pursuers until the sledge was through the wall safely, he
slipped along to the narrowest point of the path and ordered back the
dogs. Again a flare of fire from the depths showed his position to the
enemy, and an ilium-bladed spear was his greeting, hissing past his
cheek to go clattering down the declivity of the precipice.
Urged by Garlanes, the Sardanians had crept dangerously near. Polaris
held his hand no longer. He steadied himself and hurled a spear.
The man next behind Garlanes fell to the floor of the ledge and lay
twitching horribly in silence. The glittering point of the spear was
set fast in his throat. Once more the light gave him opportunity, and
another stout Sardanian gave up the ghost before his unerring cast.
Then Garlanes waited no longer for the coming of Minos, but gathered
his men and charged.