The light ahead of us winked like a will-o’-the-wisp as intervening
branches of coral, the edge of a mud-bank, or perhaps the body of some
living creature, momentarily blotted it out. We were close to the bottom
now. Along here it was a rolling, but fairly even bank of ooze, with
grotesque squat plants growing in it.
The light could not have been more than a few hundred feet in advance of
us; in its glow we could sometimes see the outlines of the human figure
carrying it. We did not dare speak aloud now; we swam with that speed
and silence which only one who lives in the water can attain.
Presently the light dipped downward and vanished. We saw that this
figure we were following had entered a black cave-mouth—an opening
which ran diagonally down into a slimy bank of mud. And we saw, too,
that the points of steady light which had first attracted our attention
were the reflected glow of illumination from somewhere beneath the sea
floor.
Silently we slipped into the cave-mouth. The moving light was down
there: then abruptly it disappeared.
“Wait!” whispered Caan. “Go slower!”
We advanced cautiously—and came again to a hedge of coral which impeded
our passage. But this barrier we saw at once was artificial. It was the
crude doorway—created by human intelligence and industry—which barred
the creatures of the wild from entering. We threaded our way through it.
Any one of those sea-monsters could have battered it down had he known
his strength. But such a knowledge is given only to Man.
Beyond the barrier the dim glow of a diffused green light became
visible. We edged cautiously forward, turned a corner, came suddenly to
a ledge, and stopped—breathless, with wildly beating hearts.
We were looking down from near the ceiling of a cave. The water filling
it was lighted with a pale green radiance, that lent a ghastly, wavering
unreality to the scene. The cave might have been several hundred feet in
width—nearly circular—and shallow, a hundred feet perhaps from floor
to ceiling. The opposite wall to us was plainly visible. It was gouged
out with niches in ranks and tiers—shallow ledges like the houses of
your ancient, most primitive “Cliff-dwellers.” We could see little
family groups squatting on many of them—humans, not unlike the
Marinoids in form—men, and women, and children.
But it was none of this that caused our hearts to leap so wildly. The
floor of this community house was at the moment crowded with human
figures. The figure we had followed in was swimming downward to join
them. On a raised platform—a shelf of ooze at the side and bottom of
the cave—several old men were sitting. They were not Marinoids—but
they seemed to differ principally in the eyes, which were much larger
and more vacant, and in the pallid, ghastly whiteness of the puffy flesh
of their bodies.
On the same platform stood Og! He was gazing down at the throng of
people before him—haranguing them. His voice reached us—not Marinoid
words, but enough like them—a corruption—to make them intelligible to
us.
All this we saw at a brief glance. And the crowning thing: On the
platform also, between Og and the white old men, my Nona was sitting
with her arms bound at her sides! My Nona, beautiful as always, pink
skin, blue eyes and golden hair—so vivid amid that pallid, ghastly
throng! And she was unharmed—with spirit unbroken—I could see that by
the flash of her eyes, her scornful, unwavering gaze as she leveled it
at the puffy white faces staring up at her.
My Nona!
* * * * *
We crouched there on that upper ledge, staring down through the green
water of the cave, and listened to Og as he harangued that pallid,
puffy-faced throng. His words came up to us clear—words which, as I
have said, were not Marinoid but a corruption of them sufficiently close
to the original to be intelligible to us. We listened, breathless. What
we heard made the past plain to us; and made our own future—the danger
hanging over all the Marinoids—equally plain.
For a moment we forgot our own position there on the ledge—forgot even
Nona whom we had come to rescue and who was sitting behind Og on the
platform, arms bound at her sides, with scorn on her beautiful face and
her eyes flashing fire at her captors.
For Og, with vehement, enthusiastic words, was explaining to these, his
own people, how he would soon lead them into battle against the
Marinoids! Rax and its sister cities would be captured; the Marinoid men
killed or reduced to slavery; and all the beautiful, peaceful Marinoid
domain turned over to the rule and the enjoyment of Og and his people!
It made us shudder; but we held ourselves quiet. Caan, older than Prince
Atar and I, pulled us back when in our eagerness to hear Og’s every word
we would have pressed thoughtlessly forward and risked discovery from
below.
These people called themselves Maagogs—two long, very harsh syllables.
Down here under the Water of Wild Things, hidden away in caves,
mud-holes and subterranean tunnels, there were doubtless thousands of
them—dragging out a furtive existence, menaced on every hand by
monsters of the deep. To them, Nature herself must have seemed an
inexorable enemy, as though their very being were against her laws, her
wishes.
For centuries they had apathetically struggled on. And then, as though
to blot them out entirely, Nature had turned on them still further. Of
recent years the pallid, dull-eyed Maagog women had borne but one female
to three males. The Maagog women were dying out; soon the race would
become extinct.
With this dearth of women of their kind, Maagog men of the more
prepossessing appearance (a generation before) had smuggled themselves
into the Marinoid race. Their children—half-breeds—were living there
now, with their Maagog heritage unsuspected by the trusting,
simple-minded Marinoids.
All this and more, Og explained to the throng of Maagogs he had
assembled before him, as he outlined his plans of what he now proposed
to do.
“Quiet!” murmured Caan to Atar and me.
Og’s voice went on. He had left Rax and come back to the Water of Wild
Things because he loved his own people. It had been his idea that they
steal the Marinoid women. The Maagog race must go on—on to conquest, to
victory!
A cheer rolled out as he said it. But we who listened knew it was Og’s
own personal advancement—and not love of his people—which actuated
him. And his very next words made that plain.
He—Og the Executioner—would lead his people to victory. And he would
rule them as King. Og the Executioner! Thus he referred to himself. We
did not know at the moment just what he meant. But, as you shall hear,
we were soon to learn in very ghastly fashion.
* * * * *
War with the Marinoids was coming! Og had sent messengers down with his
tidings. The messengers were coming back; and from everywhere came the
news that the Maagogs were willing to fight. If their present rulers
would urge them on (and here Og turned to the white old men behind him)
the Maagog people would mass themselves at Og’s command—would follow
him against the Marinoids. And when victory had crowned their efforts,
he, Og, would rule them in Rax—the most beautiful spot in all the
world—where they would all live in peace and security forever. And the
beautiful Marinoid women would be their women, and the Marinoid men
would be their servants and their slaves!
It was a vigorous, exhilarating speech, and the crowd on the cave-floor
responded to it with prolonged cheering, while Og stood silent, smiling
upon them triumphantly. Then abruptly he turned toward Nona—my
beautiful Nona—who with spirit still unbroken flashed back at him her
look of contempt.
And again Og spoke. This woman—this strangely fashioned woman he had
found among the Marinoids—would be his Queen—to rule with him when
they had conquered Rax. He approached Nona, laid his hand on her
shoulder. I started forward; but Caan held me back.
“Quiet, Nemo! Wait! If they discover us, we are lost.”
But my Nona did not shrink away from Og. I knew that every fibre of her
revolted at his touch—but she did not show it. Her gaze on his face was
steady—and full of that same cold contempt.
“This woman,” said Og, as he smiled down at the listening throng, “will
be your Queen. She is frightened now. She will soon see how great am
I—how great is the honor I offer her.”
He was talking for Nona’s benefit, I knew.
“I respect her,” he said. “I shall conquer the Marinoids first—and
she—her love, her admiration—shall be my reward.”
He turned away from Nona, and, advancing to the very edge of the
platform, held out his arms to the people.
“I—Og the Executioner—will rule you. The waters we will conquer are
fair and beautiful. Cool and open—room for us all—and free of
monsters. Riches for every one of you!”
The cheering halted him again. The crowd was waving its thin arms.
“Look!” whispered Atar to me.
From across the cave, a niche halfway up the opposite side, a Maagog
woman launched herself into the water, swimming downward toward the
platform and Og. She seemed not much older than Nona—a girl not unlike
a Marinoid girl, but dead white of flesh. And puffy, with huge staring
eyes and a mouth that was a gash.
She swam downward slowly and landed upon the platform close beside Og.
He confronted her. She spoke to him, pleadingly—but so softly that we
on the ledge could not catch her words. Then she gestured toward Nona;
and then she threw her arms about Og’s neck. He struggled to release
himself, while the crowd, silent now, looked on.
A moment, and Og was free, standing erect. The Maagog girl was lying on
the platform where he had thrown her. She rose to her feet painfully,
flinging at Nona a glance of unutterable hatred. Then again she appealed
to Og—a gesture of love, despairing, desperate. It seemed to madden
him. He stepped forward and struck her across the face with the flat of
his arm. She fell backward, righted herself in the water, and swam
slowly, limpingly away. A moment more, and she was back in the wall
niche from whence she had come.
Og, with a scowl, went on talking to the crowd—telling them of the
coming Marinoid war. Never once did he look up to where the girl was
crouched above, watching him silently.
But I—my gaze was no longer for Og. Across the cave from me—almost at
the same level and almost as far from Og and Nona as I was—that Maagog
girl crouched tense. There seemed something ominous in every line of
her—something that filled me with a dread—a horror.
Og’s speech rolled on. The crowd applauded. Atar whispered something to
me—something about us three going back to Rax at once, to get help to
rescue Nona and to prepare for the coming war.
But I did not heed him. That girl on the rock across the cave was still
crouching there. The baleful gaze of her huge eyes was downward to the
platform—and my heart leaped into my throat when suddenly I realized
that she was staring, not at Og, but at Nona.
And then I saw her hand go to her grotesque green robe. It came back;
her pincer held a very short gleaming spear—like a dagger.
The crowd was silent, hanging now on Og’s words. Of all that throng,
only I was watching that menacing figure on the ledge.
Abruptly the silence was split by a scream—the Maagog girl screaming as
though at last her rage and jealousy had broken the bonds of her reason.
I saw her dive, head downward—diving and swimming, with the blade
extended—straight for Nona!
My own reason left me. I leaped forward, thrust back Caan and Atar who
would have stopped me—and plunged from the ledge—plunged downward in a
long, swimming dive toward the platform where my Nona sat bound and
helpless!