Yolara of Muria vs. the O'Keefe
I with all the familiar, of a having been up in a room. I with a of and resiliency. The had from above and into the room was the light. From the came a and of laughter. I jumped and the curtain. O'Keefe and Rador were a wild race; the like an otter, out-distancing and playing around the Irishman at will.
Had that sleep—and now I that my against it had been by that it was the which Throckmartin had as having the approach of the Dweller it had away Thora and Stanton—had that sleep been after all nothing but natural of nerves and brains?
And that last of the golden-eyed girl over Larry? Had that also been a of an mind? Well, it might have been, I not tell. At any rate, I decided, I would speak about it to O'Keefe once we were alone again—and then myself up to the of well-being I like a boy, and joined the two in the pool. The water was warm and I the of life in every increase; something from it to through the skin, a clean that every fibre. Tiring at last, we to the and ourselves out. The green himself and Larry his uniform.
"The Afyo Maie has us, Doc," he said. "We're to—well—I you'd call it with her. After that, Rador tells me, we're to have a session with the Council of Nine. I Yolara is as as any lady of—the upper world, as you might put it—and just naturally can't wait," he added.
He gave himself a last shake, the under his left arm, cheerfully.
"After you, my dear Alphonse," he said to Rador, with a low bow. The laughed, in an of Larry's and started ahead of us to the house of the priestess. When he had gone a little way on the orchid-walled path I to O'Keefe:
"Larry, when you were off to sleep—did you think you saw anything?"
"See anything!" he grinned. "Doc, sleep me like a Hun shell. I they were the on us. I—I had some of you farewells," he continued, sheepishly. "I think I did start 'em, didn't I?"
I nodded.
"But wait a minute—" he hesitated. "I had a of dream—"
"'What was it?" I asked eagerly,
"Well," he answered slowly, "I it was I'd been of—Golden Eyes. Anyway, I she came through the and over me—yes, and put one of those long white hands of hers on my head—I couldn't my lids—but in some way I see her. Then it got dreamish. Why do you ask?"
Rador toward us,
"Later," I answered, "Not now. When we're alone."
But through me a little of reassurance. Whatever the through which we were moving; of there—the Golden Girl was over us; with unknown powers she muster.
We passed the entrance; through a long and stopped a door that to be from a of jade—high, narrow, set in a of opal.
Rador twice and the same sweet, of—yesterday, I must call it, although in that place of day the term is meaningless—bade us enter. The door aside. The was small, the it on three sides, the black it, the fourth opening out into a little garden—a of the fragrant, and fruit. Facing it was a small table of and from the around it to us—Yolara.
Larry in his with an of and low. My own was as frank—and the was well pleased with our homage.
She was in the filmy, half-revelant webs, now of blue. The corn-silk was a wide-meshed in which brilliants, like and diamonds. Her own as as they, and I noted again in their clear the half-eager as they rested upon O'Keefe's lithe, well-knit and his keen, clean-cut face. The high-arched, rested upon soft sandals the leg to just the knee.
"Some wonder!" Larry, looking at me and a hand over his heart. "Put her on a New York and she'd empty Broadway. Take the from me, Doc."
He to Yolara, was puzzled.
"I said, O lady is a for hearts, that in our world your would the of men as would a little woman sun!" he said, in the to which the itself so well.
A up through the skin. The and she us toward the cushions. Black-haired in, us the fruits, the little and a drink the colour and odor of chocolate. I was of hunger.
"What are you named, strangers?" she asked.
"This man is named Goodwin," said O'Keefe. "As for me, call me Larry."
"Nothing like quick," he said to me—but his upon Yolara as though he were another phrase. And so she took it, for: "You must teach me your tongue," she murmured.
"Then shall I have two where now I have one to tell you of your loveliness," he answered.
"And also that'll take time," he spoke to me. "Essential out of which we can't be to make these fun-loving any Roman holiday. Get me!"
"Larree," Yolara. "I like the sound. It is sweet—" and it was as she spoke it.
"And what is your land named, Larree?" she continued. "And Goodwin's?" She the perfectly.
"My land, O lady of loveliness, is two—Ireland and America; his but one—America."
She the two names—slowly, over and over. We the opportunity to attack the food; as she spoke again.
"Oh, but you are hungry!" she cried. "Eat then." She her upon her hands and us, whole of questions up in her eyes.
"How is it, Larree, that you have two and Goodwin but one?" she asked, at last unable to keep longer.
"I was in Ireland; he in America. But I have long in his land and my loves each," he said.
She nodded, understandingly.
"Are all the men of Ireland like you, Larree? As all the men here are like Lugur or Rador? I like to look at you," she on, with frankness. "I am of men like Lugur and Rador. But they are strong," she added, swiftly. "Lugur can up ten in his two arms and six with but one hand."
We not her and she white to illustrate.
"That is little, O lady, to the men of Ireland," O'Keefe. "Lo, I have one of my up ten times ten of our—what call you that thing in which Rador us here?"
"Corial," said she.
"Hold up ten times twenty of our with but two fingers—and these of ours—"
"Coria," said she.
"And these of ours are each in weight than ten of yours. Yes, and I have another with but one of his hand hell!
"And so I have," he to me. "And at Forty-second and Fifth Avenue, N. Y.—U. S. A."
Yolara all this with doubt.
"Hell?" she at last. "I know not the word."
"Well," answered O'Keefe. "Say Muria then. In many they are, I gather, O heart's delight, one and the same."
Now the in the was indeed. She her head.
"None of our men can do that!" she answered, at length. "Nor do I think you could, Larree."
"Oh, no," said Larry easily. "I to be that strong. I fly," he added, casually.
The rose to her feet, at him with eyes.
"Fly!" she incredulously. "Like a Zitia? A bird?"
Larry nodded—and then the in her eyes, on hastily.
"Not with my own wings, Yolara. In a—a that moves through—what's the word for air, Doc—well, through this—" He a wide up toward the above us. He took a pencil and on a white cloth a sketch of an airplane. "In a—a like this—" She the sketch gravely, a hand into her and a keen-bladed poniard; cut Larry's out and the aside.
"That I can understand," she said.
"Remarkably woman," O'Keefe. "Hope I'm not anything away—but she had me."
"But what are your like, Larree? Are they like me? And how many have loved you?" she whispered.
"In all Ireland and America there is none like you, Yolara," he answered. "And take that any way you please," he in English. She took it, it was evident, as it most pleased her.
"Do you have goddesses?" she asked.
"Every woman in Ireland and America, is a goddess"; thus Larry.
"Now that I do not believe." There was anger and in her eyes. "I know women, Larree—and if that were so there would be no peace for men."
"There isn't!" he. The anger died out and she laughed, sweetly, understandingly.
"And which do you worship, Larree?"
"You!" said Larry O'Keefe boldly.
"Larry! Larry!" I whispered. "Be careful. It's high explosive."
But the was laughing—little of sweet notes; and was in each note.
"You are bold, Larree," she said, "to offer me your worship. Yet am I pleased by your boldness. Still—Lugur is strong; and you are not of those who—what did you say—have tried. And your are not here—Larree!"
Again her out. The Irishman flushed; it was touché for Yolara!
"Fear not for me with Lugur," he said, grimly. "Rather for him!"
The died; she looked at him searchingly; a little about her mouth—so sweet and so cruel.
"Well—we shall see," she murmured. "You say you in your world. With what?"
"Oh, with this and with that," answered Larry, airily. "We manage—"
"Have you the Keth—I that with which I sent Songar into the nothingness?" she asked swiftly.
"See what she's at?" O'Keefe spoke to me, swiftly. "Well I do! But here's where the O'Keefe lands.
"I said," he to her, "O voice of fire, that your is high as your beauty—and searches out men's as your their hearts. And now listen, Yolara, for what I speak is truth"—into his came the far-away gaze; into his voice the Irish softness—"Lo, in my land of Ireland, this many of your life's length agone—see"—he his ten fingers, and them times twenty—"the men of my race, the Taitha-da-Dainn, send men out into the as do you with the Keth. And this they did by their harpings, and by spoken—words of power, O Yolara, that have their power still—and by and by sounds.
"There was Cravetheen who played from his harp, that ate those they were sent against. And there was Dalua, of Hy Brasil, pipes played away from man and and all their shadows—and at last played them to too, so that Dalua his that had been men and like a of little leaves; yea, and Bel the Harper, who make women's like and men's to and and great trees to the sod—"
His were bright, dream-filled; she a little from him, under the perfect skin.
"I say to you, Yolara, that these were and are—in Ireland." His voice strong. "And I have men as many as those that are in your great this many times over"—he his hands once more, a dozen times—"blasted into your Keth have touched them. Yea—and as as those through which we came up and the over your eyes. And this is truth, Yolara—all truth! Stay—have you that little of the Keth with which you Songar?"
She nodded, at him, fascinated, and contending.
"Then use it." He took a of from the table, it on the that into the garden. "Use it on this—and I will you."
"I will use it upon one of the ladala—" she eagerly.
The from him; there was a touch of in the he to her; her own it.
"It shall be as you say," she said hurriedly. She the from her breast; it at the vase. The green forth, spread over the crystal, but its action be begun, a of light from O'Keefe's hand, his and the into fragments. As as he had it, he the pistol into place and there empty handed, looking at her sternly. From the came shouting, a of feet.
Yolara's was white, her strained—but her voice was as she called to the guards:
"It is nothing—go to your places!"
But when the of their return had she at the Irishman—then looked again at the vase.
"It is true!" she cried, "but see, the Keth is—alive!"
I her pointing finger. Each of the was vibrating, its out into space. Broken it the of Larry's had—but not it from the of the force. The priestess's was triumphant.
"But what it, O of beauty—what it to the that is what to its fragments?" asked Larry, gravely—and pointedly.
The died from her and for a space she was silent; brooding.
"Next," O'Keefe to me. "Lots of in the little box; keep your on the opening and see what comes out."
We had not long to wait. There was a of anger about Yolara, something too of pride. She her hands; to the who answered her summons, and then sat us, maliciously.
"You have answered me as to your strength—but you have not proved it; but the Keth you have answered. Now answer this!" she said.
She pointed out into the garden. I saw a branch and as though a hand had it—but no hand was there! Saw then another and another and break, a little tree and fall—and closer and closer to us came the of while into the garden the light revealing—nothing! Now a great a rose in air and itself at my feet. Cushions close to us about as though in the of a whirlwind.
And hands my arms in a fast to my sides, another my and I a needle-sharp point my shirt, touch the skin just over my heart!
"Larry!" I cried, despairingly. I my head; saw that he too was in this of the invisible. But his was calm, amused.
"Keep cool, Doc!" he said. "Remember—she wants to learn the language!"
Now from Yolara upon of laughter. She gave a command—the hands loosened, the from my heart; as I had been I was free—and weak and shaky.
"Have you that in Ireland, Larree!" the priestess—and once more with laughter.
"A good play, Yolara." His voice was as as his face. "But they did that in Ireland Dalua away his man's shadow. And in Goodwin's land they make ships—coria that go on water—so you can pass by them and see only sea and sky; and those water are each of them many times than this whole of yours."
But the laughed on.
"It did me a little," Larry. "That wasn't up to my mark. But God! If we that out and take it with us!"
"Not so, Larree!" Yolara gasped, through her laughter. "Not so! Goodwin's you!"
Her good had returned; she was like a child pleased over some successful trick; and like a child she cried—"I'll you!"—signalled again; to the who, returning, her a long metal case. Yolara took from her something that looked like a small pencil, pressed it and a thin of light for all the world like an electric flash, upon its hasp. The open. Out of it she three flat, crystals, rose in hue. She one to O'Keefe and one to me.
"Look!" she commanded, the third her own eyes. I through the and there into sight, out of thin air—six dwarfs! Each was from top of to of in a so that through it their were plain. The to vibrate—its to together like quick-silver. I the from my and—the was empty! Put it back—and there were the six!
Yolara gave another and they disappeared, from the crystals.
"It is what they wear, Larree," Yolara, graciously. "It is something that came to us from—the Ancient Ones. But we have so few"—she sighed.
"Such must be two-edged swords, Yolara," O'Keefe. "For how know you that one them not to you with hand to strike?"
"There is no danger," she said indifferently. "I am the of them."
She for a space, then abruptly:
"And now no more. You two are to appear the Council at a time—but nothing. You, Goodwin, go with Rador about our city and your wisdom. But you, Larree, me here in my garden—" she at him, provocatively—maliciously, too. "For shall not one who has a world of be all to when at last he his own?"
She laughed—whole-heartedly and was gone. And at that moment I liked Yolara than I had and—alas—better than I was to in the future.
I noted Rador the open door and started to go, but O'Keefe me by the arm.
"Wait a minute," he urged. "About Golden Eyes—you were going to tell me something—it's been on my mind all through that little match."
I told him of the that had passed through my lids. He and then laughed.
"Hell of a of in this place!" he grinned. "Ladies who can walk through and others with regular to let 'em they please. Oh, well, don't let it on your nerves, Doc. Remember—everything's natural! That is just of course. But Lord, if we only a piece of it!"
"The material all light-vibrations, or them, just as the cut them off," I answered. "A man under the X-ray is invisible; this makes him so. He doesn't register, as the people of the motion-picture say."
"Camouflage," Larry. "And as for the Shining One—Say!" he snorted. "I'd like to set the O'Keefe up against it. I'll that old Irish would give it the three and a and it it it had 'em. Oh! Wow! Boy Howdy!"
I him still over this as I passed along the with the green dwarf.
A was us. I paused entering it to the surface of and great road. It was obsidian—volcanic of emerald, unflawed, translucent, with no of or juncture. I the shell.
"What makes it go?" I asked Rador. At a word from him the driver touched a and an appeared the control-lever, of which I have spoken in a chapter. Within was a small of black crystal, through I saw, dimly, a revolving, ball, not more than two in diameter. Beneath the was a shaped, into the of the Nautilus whorl.
"Watch!" said Rador. He me into the vehicle and took a place me. The driver touched the lever; a of from the into the cylinder. The started smoothly, and as the of it speed.
"The not touch the road," Rador. "It is so far"—he his and thumb less than a sixteenth of an apart—"above it."
And here is the best place to the of the or coria. The was energy. Passing from the the through the to two of a metal to the of the vehicles like of a sled. Impinging upon these they produced a of gravity, the slightly, and at the same time a powerful or that be backward, forward, or at the will of the driver. The of this energy and the of its were, briefly, as follows:
[Dr. Goodwin's and of this has been by the Executive Council of the International Association of Science as too to scientists of the Central European Powers with which we were so at war. It is allowable, however, to that his are in the of in this country, who are, unfortunately, in their not only by the of the that we know, but also by the of the or unknown to us that entered into the of the the of black crystal. Nevertheless, as the is so clear, it is that these will be overcome.—J. B. K., President, I. A. of S.]
The wide, road was with the coria. They in and out of the gardens; them the fair-haired, on their were like of Elfland, in webs, the of flowers. In some were flaxen-haired men of Lugur's type; sometimes black-polled officers of Rador; often raven-tressed girls, hand-maidens of the women; and now and then of the by with one of the dwarfs.
We around the turn that of the jewel-like an and, speedily, upon our right the through which we had come in our from the Moon Pool to their of moss. They a abutment, a salient. It had been from the very of this salient's that we had emerged; on each of it the precipices, glowing, and into distance.
The slender, under which we ended at openings in the upflung, of verdure. Each had its little of soldiers. Through some of the openings a of the green river passed. These were to the country, to the land of the ladala, Rador told me; adding that none of the into the city unless or with pass.
We the of the road and that we had from the great oval. Before us rose the and the lake. A half-mile, perhaps, from these the last of the itself. It was more and about it a of in the other spans; also its was larger and at its the way was by two structures, like blockhouses, which it ran. Something about it in me an curiosity.
"Where that road lead, Rador?" I asked.
"To the one place above all of which I may not tell you, Goodwin," he answered. And again I wondered.
We slowly out upon the great pier. Far to the left was the prismatic, the Cyclopean pillars. On the white shells—lacustrian of the Elf chariots—swam, but none was near that of wonder.
"Rador—what is that?" I asked.
"It is the Veil of the Shining One!" he answered slowly.
Was the Shining One that which we named the Dweller?
"What is the Shining One?" I cried, eagerly. Again he was silent. Nor did he speak until we had on our way.
And as my interest, my scientific curiosity, were—I was of depression. Beautiful, this place was—and yet in its wonder a of menace, of unease—of inexplicable, woe; as though in a garden of God a should upon it the of some of which some way, somehow, had into the and only its time to spring.
