I Waited for an hour, examining the curious contents of the room, and amusing myself with shadow-fencing with the two swords. I swung round to find the Uighur captain watching me from the doorway1, pale eyes glowing.
“By Zarda!” he said. “Whatever you have forgotten, it is not your sword play! A warrior2 you left us, a warrior you have returned!”
He dropped upon a knee, bent3 his head: “Pardon, Dwayanu! I have been sent for you. It is time to go.”
A heady exaltation began to take me. I dropped the swords, and clapped him on the shoulder. He took it like an accolade4. We passed through the corridor of the spearsmen and over the threshold of the great doorway. There was a thunderous shout.
“Dwayanu!”
And then a blaring of trumpets5, a mighty6 roll of drums and the clashing of cymbals7.
Drawn8 up in front of the palace was a hollow square of Uighur horsemen, a full five hundred of them, spears glinting, pennons flying from their shafts9. Within the square, in ordered ranks, were as many more. But now I saw that these were both men and women, clothed in garments as ancient as those I wore, and shimmering10 in the strong sunlight like a vast multicoloured rug of metal threads. Banners and bannerets, torn and tattered11 and bearing strange symbols, fluttered from them. At the far edge of the square I recognized the old priest, his lesser12 priests flanking him, mounted and clad in the yellow. Above them streamed a yellow banner, and as the wind whipped it straight, black upon it appeared the shape of the Kraken. Beyond the square of horsemen, hundreds of the Uighurs pressed for a glimpse of me. As I stood there, blinking, another shout mingled13 with the roll of the Uighur drums.
“The King returns to his people!” Barr had said. Well, it was like that.
A soft nose nudged me. Beside me was the black stallion. I mounted him. The Uighur captain at my heels, we trotted14 down the open way between the ordered ranks. I looked at them as I went by. All of them, men and women, had the pale blue-grey eyes; each of them was larger than the run of the race. I thought that these were the nobles, the pick of the ancient families, those in whom the ancient blood was strongest. Their tattered banners bore the markings of their clans15. There was exultation16 in the eyes of the men. Before I had reached the priests. I had read terror in the eyes of many of the women.
I reached the old priest. The line of horsemen ahead of us parted. We two rode through the gap, side by side. The lesser priests fell in behind us. The nobles followed them. A long thin line upon each side of the cavalcade17, the Uighur horsemen trotted — with the Uighur trumpets blaring, the Uighur kettle-drums and long-drums beating, the Uighur cymbals crashing, in wild triumphal rhythms.
“The King returns —”
I would to that something had sent me then straight upon the Uighur spears!
We trotted through the green of the oasis18. We crossed a wide bridge which had spanned the little stream when it had been a mighty river. We set our horses’ feet upon the ancient road that led straight to the mountain’s doorway a mile or more away. The heady exultation grew within me. I looked back at my company. And suddenly I remembered the repairs and patches on my breeches and my blouse. And my following was touched with the same shabbiness. It made me feel less a king, but it also made me pitiful. I saw them as men and women driven by hungry ghosts in their thinned blood, ghosts of strong ancestors growing weak as the ancient blood weakened, starving at it weakened, but still strong enough to clamour against extinction19, still strong enough to command their brains and wills and drive them toward something the ghosts believed would feed their hunger, make them strong again.
Yes, I pitied them. It was nonsense to think I could appease20 the hunger of their ghosts, but there was one thing I could do for them. I could give them a damned good show! I went over in my mind the ritual the old priest had taught me, rehearsed each gesture.
I looked up to find we were at the threshold of the mountain door. It was wide enough for twenty horsemen to ride through abreast21. The squat22 columns I had seen, under the touch of the old priest’s hands, lay shattered beside it. I felt no repulsion, no revolt against entering, as I then had. I was eager to be in and to be done with it.
The spearsmen trotted up, and formed a guard beside the opening. I dismounted, and handed one of them the stallion’s rein23. The old priest beside me, the lesser ones behind us, we passed over the threshold of the mined doorway, and into the mountain. The passage, or vestibule, was lighted by wall cressets in which burned the dear, white flame. A hundred paces from the entrance, another passage opened, piercing inward at an angle of about fifteen degrees to the wider one. Into this the old priest turned. I glanced back. The nobles bad not yet entered; I could see them dismounting at the entrance. We went along this passage in silence for perhaps a thousand feet. It opened into a small square chamber24, cut in the red sandstone, at whose side was another door, covered with heavy tapestries25. In this chamber was nothing except a number of stone coffers of various sizes ranged along its walls.
The old priest opened one of these. Within it was a wooden box, grey with age. He lifted its lid, and took from it two yellow garments. He slipped one of these garments over my head. It was like a smock, falling to my knees. I glanced down; woven within it, its tentacles27 encircling me, was the black octopus28.
The other he drew over his own head. It, too, bore the octopus, but only on the breast, the tentacles did not embrace him. He bent and took from the coffer a golden staff, across the end of which ran bars. From these fell loops of small golden bells.
From the other coffers the lesser priests had taken drums, queerly shaped oval instruments some three feet long, with sides of sullen29 red metal. They sat, rolling the drumheads under their thumbs, tightening30 them here and there while the old priest gently shook his staff of bells, testing their chiming. They were for all the world like an orchestra tuning31 up. I again felt a desire to laugh;
I did not then know how the commonplace can intensify32 the terrible.
There were sounds outside the tapestried33 doorway, rustlings. There were three clangorous strokes like a hammer upon an anvil34. Then silence. The twelve priests walked through the doorway with their drums in their arms. The high priest beckoned35 me to follow him, and we passed through after them.
I looked out upon an immense cavern36, cut from the living rock by the hands of men dust now for thousands of years. It told its immemorial antiquity37 as clearly as though the rocks had tongue. It was more than ancient; it was primeval. It was dimly lighted, so dimly that hardly could I see the Uighur nobles. They were standing38, the banners of their dans above them, their faces turned up to me, upon the stone floor, a hundred yards Wso away, and ten feet below me. Beyond them and behind them the cavern extended, vanishing hi darkness. I saw that in front of them was a curving trough, wide — like the trough between two long waves — and that like a wave it swept upward from the hither side of the trough, curving, its lip crested39, as though that wave of sculptured stone were a gigantic comber rushing back upon them. This lip formed the edge of the raised place on which I stood.
The high priest touched my arm. I turned my head to him, and followed his eyes. A hundred feet away from me stood a girl. She was naked. She had not long entered womanhood and quite plainly was soon to be a mother. Her eyes were as blue as those of the old priest, her hair was reddish brown, touched with gold, her skin was palest olive. The blood of the old fair race was strong within her. For all she held herself so bravely, there was terror in her eyes, and the rapid rise and fall of her rounded breasts further revealed that terror.
She stood in a small hollow. Around her waist was a golden ring, and from that ring dropped three golden chaias fastened to the rock floor. I recognized their purpose. She could not run, and if she dropped or fell, she could not writhe40 away, out of the cup. But run, or writhe away from what? Certainly not from me! I ‘looked at her and smiled. Her eyes searched mine. The terror suddenly fled from them. She smiled back at me, trustingly.
God forgive me — I smiled at her and she trusted me! I looked beyond her, from whence had come a glitter of yellow like a flash from a huge topaz. Up from the rock a hundred yards behind the girl jutted41 an immense fragment of the same yellow translucent42 stone that formed the jewel in my ring. It was like the fragment of a gigantic shattered pane43. Its shape was roughly triangular44. Black within it was a tentacle26 of the Kraken. The tentacle swung down within the yellow stone, broken from the monstrous45 body when the stone had been broken. It was all of fifty feet long. Its inner side was turned toward me, and plain upon all its length clustered the hideous46 sucking discs.
Well, it was ugly enough — but nothing to be afraid of, I thought. I smiled again at the chained girl, and met once more her look of utter trust.
The old priest had been watching me dosely. We walked forward until we were half-way between the edge and the girl. At the lip squatted47 the twelve lesser priests, their drums on their laps.
The old priest and I faced the girl and the broken tentacle. He raised his staff of golden bells and shook them. From the darkness of the cavern began a low chanting, a chant upon three minor48 themes, repeated and repeated, and intermingled.
It was as primeval as the cavern; it was the voice of the cavern itself.
The girl never took her eyes from me.
The chanting ended. I raised my hands and made the curious gestures of salutation I had been taught. I began the ritual to Khalk’ru . . . .
With the first words, the odd feeling of recognition swept over me — with something added. The words, the gestures, were automatic. I did not have to exert any effort of memory; they remembered themselves. I no longer saw the chained girl. All I saw was the black tentacle in the shattered stone.
On swept the ritual and on . . . was the yellow stone dissolving from around the tentacle . . . was the tentacle swaying?
Desperately49 I tried to halt the words, the gesturing. I could not!
Something stronger than myself possessed50 me, moving my muscles, speaking from my throat. I had a sense of inhuman51 power. On to the climax52 of the evil evocation53 — and how I knew how utterly54 evil it was — the ritual rushed, while I seemed to stand apart, helpless to check it.
It ended.
And the tentacle quivered . . . it writhed55 . . . it reached outward to the chained girl . . . .
There was a devil’s roll of drums, rushing up fast and ever faster to a thunderous crescendo56 . . . .
The girl was still looking at me . . . but the trust was gone from her eyes . . . her face reflected the horror stamped upon my own.
The black tentacle swung up and out!
I had a swift vision of a vast cloudy body from which other cloudy tentacles writhed. A breath that had in it the cold of outer space touched me.
The black tentacle coiled round the girl . . . .
She screamed — inhumanly57 . . . she faded . . . she dissolved . . . her screaming faded . . . her screaming became a small shrill58 agonized59 piping . . . a sigh.
I heard the dash of metal from where the girl had stood. The clashing of the golden chains and girdle that had held her, falling empty on the rock.
The girl was gone!
I stood, nightmare horror such as I had never known in worst of nightmares paralysing me —
The child had trusted me . . . I had smiled at her, and she had trusted me . . . and I had summoned the Kraken to destroy her!
Searing remorse60, white hot rage, broke the chains that held me. I saw the fragment of yellow stone in its place, the black tentacle inert61 within it. At my feet lay the old priest, flat on his face, his withered62 body shaking; his withered hands clawing at the rock. Beside their drums lay the lesser priests, and flat upon the floor of the cavern were the nobles — prostrate63, abased64, blinds and deaf in stunned65 worship of that dread66 Thing I had summoned.
I ran to the tapestried doorway. I had but one desire — to get out of the temple of Khalk’ru. Out of the lair67 of the Kraken. To get far and far away from it. To get back . . . back to the camp-home. I ran through the little room, through the passages and, still running, reached the entrance to the temple. I stood there for an instant, dazzled by the sunlight.
There was a roaring shout from hundreds of throats — then silence. My sight cleared. They lay there, in the dust, prostrate before me — the troops of the Uighur spearsmen.
I looked for the black stallion. He was close beside me. I sprang upon his back, gave him the reins68. He shot forward like a black thunderbolt through the prostrate ranks, and down the road to the oasis. We raced through the oasis. I bad vague glimpses of running crowds, shouting. None tried to stop me. None could have stayed the rush of that great horse.
And now I was close to the inner gates of the stone fort through which we had passed on the yesterday. They were open. Their guards stood gaping69 at me. Drums began to beat, peremptorily70, from the temple. I looked back. There was a confusion at its entrance, a chaotic71 milling. The Uighur spearsmen were streaming down the wide road.
The gates began to close. I shot the stallion forward, bowling72 over the guards, and was inside the fort. I reached the further gates. They were closed. Louder beat the drums, threatening, commanding.
Something of sanity73 returned to me. I ordered the guards to open. They stood, trembling, staring at me. But they did not obey. I leaped from the stallion and ran to them. I raised my hand. The ring of Khalk’ru flittered. They threw themselves on the ground before me — but they did not open the gates.
I saw upon the wall goatskins full of water. I snatched one of these and a sack of grain. Upon the floor was a huge slab74 of stone. I lifted it as though it had been a pebble75, and hurled76 it at the gates where the two halves met. They burst asunder77. I threw the skin of water and sack of grain over the high saddle, and rode through the broken gates.
The great horse skimmed through the ravine like a swallow. And now we were over the crumbling78 bridge and thundering down the ancient road.
We came to the end of the far ravine. I knew it by the fall of rock. I looked back. There was no sign of pursuit But I could hear the faint throb79 of the drums.
It was now well past mid-afternoon. We picked our way through the ravine and came out at the edge of the sandstone range. It was cruel to force the stallion, but I could not afford to spare him. By nightfall we had readied semi-arid country. The stallion was reeking80 with sweat, and tired. Never once had he slackened or turned surly. He had a great heart, that horse. I made up my mind that he should rest, come what might.
I found a sheltered place behind some high boulders81. Suddenly I realized that I was still wearing the yellow ceremonial smock. I tore it off with sick loathing82. I rubbed the horse down with it. I watered him and gave him some of the grain. I realized, too, that I was ravenously83 hungry and had eaten nothing since morning. I chewed some of the grain and washed it down with the tepid84 water. As yet, there were no signs of pursuit, and the drums were silent. I wondered uneasily whether the Uighurs knew of a shorter road and were outflanking me. I threw the smock over the stallion and stretched myself on the ground. I did not intend to sleep. But I did go to sleep.
I awakened85 abruptly86. Dawn was breaking. Looking down upon me were the old priest and the cold-eyed Uighur captain. My hiding place was ringed with spearsmen. The old priest spoke87, gently.
“We mean you no harm, Dwayanu. If it is your will to leave us, we cannot stay you. He whose call Khalk’ru has answered has nothing to fear from us. His will is our will.”
I did not answer. Looking at him, I saw again — could only see — that which I had seen in the cavern. He sighed.
“It is your will to leave us! So shall it be!”
The Uighur captain did not speak.
“We have brought your clothing, Dwayanu, thinking that you might wish to go from us as you came,” said the old priest.
I stripped and dressed in my old clothes. The old priest took my faded finery. He lifted the octopus robe from the stallion. The captain spoke:
“Why do you leave us, Dwayanu? You have made our peace with Khalk’ru. You have unlocked the gates. Soon the desert will blossom as of old. Why will you not remain and lead us on our march to greatness?”
I shook my head. The old priest sighed again.
“It is his will! So shall it be! But remember, Dwayanu — he whose call Khalk’ru has answered must answer when Khalk’ru calls him. And soon or late — Khalk’ru will call him!”
He touched my hair with his trembling old hands, touched my heart, and turned. A troop of spearsmen wheeled round him. They rode away.
The Uighur captain said:
“We wait to guard Dwayanu on his journey.”
I mounted the stallion. We reached the expedition’s new camp. It was deserted88. We rode on, toward the old camp. Late that afternoon we saw ahead of us a caravan89. As we came nearer they halted, made hasty preparations for defence. It was the expedition — still on the march. I waved my hands to them and shouted.
I dropped off the black stallion, and handed the reins to the Uighur.
“Take him,” I said. His face lost its sombre sternness, brightened.
“He shall be ready for you when you return to us, Dwayanu. He or his sons,” he said. He touched my hand to his forehead, knelt. “So shall we all be, Dwayanu — ready for you, we or our sons. When you return.”
He mounted his horse. He faced me with his troop. They raised their spears. There was one crashing shout —
“Dwayanu!”
They raced away.
I walked to where Fairchild and the others awaited me.
As soon as I could arrange it, I was on my way back to America. I wanted only one thing — to put as many miles as possible between myself and Khalk’ru’s temple.
I stopped. Involuntarily my hand sought the buckskin bag on my breast.
“But now,” I said, “it appears that it is not so easy to escape him. By anvil stroke, by chant and drums — Khalk’ru calls me ‘”
收听单词发音 |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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accolade
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| n.推崇备至，赞扬 | |
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trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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cymbals
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| pl.铙钹 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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clans
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| 宗族( clan的名词复数 )； 氏族； 庞大的家族； 宗派 | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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cavalcade
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| n.车队等的行列 | |
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oasis
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| n.（沙漠中的）绿洲，宜人的地方 | |
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extinction
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| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
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appease
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| v.安抚，缓和，平息，满足 | |
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abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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tapestries
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| n.挂毯( tapestry的名词复数 )；绣帷，织锦v.用挂毯（或绣帷）装饰( tapestry的第三人称单数 ) | |
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tentacle
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| n.触角，触须，触手 | |
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tentacles
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| n.触手( tentacle的名词复数 )；触角；触须；触毛 | |
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octopus
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| n.章鱼 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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tightening
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tuning
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| n.调谐，调整，调音v.调音( tune的现在分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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intensify
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| vt.加强；变强；加剧 | |
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tapestried
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| adj.饰挂绣帷的，织在绣帷上的v.用挂毯（或绣帷）装饰( tapestry的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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anvil
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| n.铁钻 | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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crested
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| adj.有顶饰的，有纹章的，有冠毛的v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的过去式和过去分词 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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writhe
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| vt.挣扎，痛苦地扭曲；vi.扭曲，翻腾，受苦；n.翻腾，苦恼 | |
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jutted
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| v.（使）突出( jut的过去式和过去分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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translucent
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| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
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pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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evocation
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| n. 引起，唤起 n. <古> 召唤，招魂 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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crescendo
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| n.(音乐)渐强，高潮 | |
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inhumanly
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| adv.无人情味地，残忍地 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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abased
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| 使谦卑( abase的过去式和过去分词 )； 使感到羞耻； 使降低（地位、身份等）； 降下 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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peremptorily
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| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
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chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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bowling
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| n.保龄球运动 | |
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sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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ravenously
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| adv.大嚼地，饥饿地 | |
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tepid
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| adj.微温的，温热的，不太热心的 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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caravan
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| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
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