Dragon Worm and Moss Death
For a small eternity—to me at least—we waited. Then as as the green returned. "It is well," he said, some of the gone from his voice. "Grip hands again, and follow."
"Wait a bit, Rador," this was Larry. "Does Lugur know this entrance? If he does, why not let Olaf and me go to the opening and them off as they come in? We the lot—and in the meantime you and Goodwin go after Lakla for help."
"Lugur the of the Portal—if he use it," answered the captain, with a indirection. "And now that they have the Silent Ones I think he will dare. Also, he will our tracks—and it may be that he this way."
"Well, for God's sake!" O'Keefe's was almost ludicrous. "If he all that, and you all that, why didn't you let me him when I had the chance?"
"Larree," the green was humble. "It good to me, too—at first. And then I a command, it clearly, to stop you—that Lugur die not now, a fail!"
"Command? From whom?" The Irishman's voice out of the the very of bewilderment.
"I thought," Rador was whispering—"I it came from the Silent Ones!"
"Superstition!" O'Keefe in exasperation. "Always superstition! What can you do against it!
"Never mind, Rador." His of came to his aid. "It's too late now, anyway. Where do we go from here, old dear?" he laughed.
"We the path of one I am not to meet," answered Rador. "But if meet we must, point the death at the he upon his and send the into the flower of cold fire that is its centre—nor look into his eyes!"
Again Larry gasped, and I with him.
"It's too for me, Doc," he dejectedly. "Can you make or of it?"
"No," I answered, enough, "but Rador something and that's his of it."
"Sure," he replied, "only it's a I don't understand." I his grin. "All right for the flower of cold fire, Rador, and I won't look into his eyes," he on cheerfully. "But hadn't we be moving?"
"Come!" said the soldier; again hand in hand we on.
O'Keefe was to himself.
"Flower of cold fire! Don't look into his eyes! Some joint! Damned superstition." Then he and carolled, softly:
"Oh, mama, pin a cold rose on me;
Two frog-men are in love with me;
Shut my so I can't see."
"Sh!" Rador was warning; he whispering. "For a va we go along a way of death. From its we pass into another against I can you. But in part this is in view of the and it may be that Lugur will see us. If so, we must as best we can. If we pass these two safely, then is the way to the Crimson Sea clear, need we Lugur any. And there is another thing—that Lugur not know—when he opens the Portal the Silent Ones will and Lakla and the Akka will be to its opener."
"Rador," I asked, "how know you all this?"
"The is my own sister's child," he answered quietly.
O'Keefe a long breath.
"Uncle," he in English, "meet the man who's going to be your nephew!"
And he the green by the title, which Rador, enough, to be one of endearment.
For me a light broke. Plain now was the for his of Lakla's at the where Larry had so Yolara's spells; plain the that had his with ours, and my confidence, despite his of perils, a quickening.
Speculation as to the marked in and of and uncle was by my that we were now moving in a half-light. We were in a wide tunnel. Not ahead the filtered, yellow like through the of autumn poplars. And as we closer to its I saw that it did pass through a screen over the passage end. This Rador cautiously, us and we through.
It appeared to be a cut through soft green mould. Its was a of a wide from which the out in perfect form, and with nicety. Thirty wide they were at their widest, then toward each other with no in their symmetry; they did not close. Above was, roughly, a ten-foot rift, edged, through which light like that in the of amber, a light through with shadows.
"Quick!" Rador, uneasily, and set off at a pace.
Now, my to the light, I saw that the tunnel's were of moss. In them I and leaf, of (Physcomitrium), of what to be the scarlet-crested Cladonia, of veils, of teeth (peristome) gigantic; cases and white, and ivory, and blues, pressed into an by some force.
"Hurry!" It was Rador calling. I had behind.
He the to a half-run; we were climbing; panting. The light stronger; the above us wider. The curved; on the left a narrow appeared. The green toward it, us within, pushed us ahead of him up a fissure—well-nigh, indeed, a chimney. Up and up this we until my were and I I climb no more. The ended; we out and sank, Rador, upon a little leaf-carpeted by tree ferns.
Gasping, aching, we prone, relaxed, and breath. Rador was to rise. Thrice he low as in homage, then—
"Give thanks to the Silent Ones—for their power has been over us!" he exclaimed.
Dimly I what he meant. Something about the at which I had been me. I to my and ran to its base. This was no fern, no! It was moss! The largest of its I had in had not been more than two high, and this was—twenty feet! The scientific fire I had in the returned uncontrollable. I the fronds, out—
My a of miles—and that vista! A Fata Morgana of plantdom! A land of sorcery!
Forests of tree-high over with of every shape and colour; and clusters, and of in pastels, in metallics, in hues; some of them and like jewels; some as though with of opals, of sapphires, of and and emeralds; of like the of the seven of Mara, king of illusion, which are from the of his heaven!
And like of a of Titans; and of the sunset; of the Jinn; of faery; of elfland!
Springing up through that of pedicles—slender and as spears, or in spirals, or with as the white of Tanit in Carthaginian groves—and all by a of cases in of and turret, and and cones, of Phrygia and bishops' mitres, and unnameable—shapes and lovely!
They high poised, and swaying—like over Titania's court; of Cathay the Flower Maiden music of "Parsifal"; of the angled, beings that people the Javan a of in Mohammed's paradise!
Down upon it all the light; in the by huge, as the of the hurricane.
And through the light, like of jewels, of birds, darting, dipping, soaring, and still other of gigantic, butterflies.
A came to us, out like the of the tide; sighing, sighing, stronger—now its all about us, us—then like a Presence, died away in distances.
"The Portal!" said Rador. "Lugur has entered!"
He, too, the and along our path. Peering with him we saw the through which we had come verdure-covered for miles three or more away. Like a in a garden the of the tunnel; here and there we look the at its top; off in it I I saw the of spears.
"They come!" Rador. "Quick! We must not meet them here!"
And then—
"Holy St. Brigid!" Larry.
From the in the tunnel's continuation, a mile the through which we had fled, a of horns—of tentacles—erect, alert, of gold and crimson; higher—and from a them two enormous, eyes, their of phosphorescence; higher still—noseless, earless, chinless; a livid, mouth from which a like playing flames! Slowly it rose—its with gold and from the light like of fire; and under this something like a shield, it. The of mounted—and in the shield's centre, full ten across, glowing, flickering, out—coldly, was a rose of white flame, a "flower of cold fire" as Rador had said.
Now the Thing upreared, like a tower a hundred above the rift, its that movement I had along the of its lair. There was a hissing; the of fell, and like the of an octopus; the length back.
"Quick!" Rador and through the moss, along the path and the other of the we raced.
Behind us for an there was a as of a torrent; a far-away, faint, screaming—silence!
"No now from those who followed," the green dwarf, pausing.
"Sainted St. Patrick!" O'Keefe at his automatic. "An' he me to kill that with this. Well, as Fergus O'Connor said when they sent him out to a wild with a potato knife: 'Ye'll how I the ye in me!'
"What was it, Doc?" he asked.
"The worm!" Rador said.
"It was Helvede Orm—the worm!" Olaf.
"There you go again—" Larry; but the green was the path and we followed, Larry muttering, Olaf mumbling, me.
The green was us for caution. He pointed through a in a of fifty-foot mosses—we were the road! Scanning it we no of Lugur and he too had the and had fled. Quickly we passed on; away from the path. The to thin; less and less they grew, way to low that offered us shelter. Unexpectedly another screen of us. Slowly Rador his way through it and hesitating.
The in of us was and depressing; in some way—dreadful. Why, I not tell, but the was plain; I from it. Then, self-analyzing, I it be the the of about had to and bird—yes, and to man—that was the of it. Our path ran a of them. To the left they were thick. They were viridescent, almost hued—verd-antique. Curiously were they like images of dog and forms, of birds—of and here and there the of the frogs! Spore cases, green, as large as and much them in shape from the heaps. My into a nausea.
Rador to us a than that with which he had looked upon the worm.
"Now for your lives," he whispered, "tread here as I do—and speak not at all!"
He on tiptoe, slowly with caution. We after him; passed the the path—and as I passed my skin and I and saw the others too with that loathing; did the green pause until he had the of a small a hundred yards beyond. And he was trembling.
"Now what are we up against?" O'Keefe.
The green a hand; stiffened; over to the left of us a upon a file of the shapes. They it, their having a of what below. The road there—and from it came a shout. A dozen of the clustered, with Lugur's men and in one of them Lugur himself, laughing wickedly!
There was a of soldiers and up the low a score of them toward us.
"Run!" Rador.
"Not much!" Larry—and took at Lugur. The spat: Olaf's echoed. Both wild, for Lugur, still laughing, himself into the protection of the of his shell. But the shots, from the file of on the crest, came a series of explosions. Under the pistol's the had and all about the soldiers a cloud of tiny, white spores—like a little cloud of puff-ball many times magnified. Through this cloud I their faces, with agony.
Some to fly, but they take a second step rigid.
The cloud and about them; on their and breasts, their garments—and they to change! Their indistinct—merged! The white that them to a yellow, greenish, spread and swelled, darkened. The of one of the soldiers for a moment—and then were by the growth!
Where but a moments had been men were only heaps, melting, into the of the that us—and already to take on their of viridescence!
The Irishman was my arm fiercely; the pain me to my senses.
"Olaf's right," he gasped. "This is hell! I'm sick." And he was, and without restraint. Lugur and his others from their nightmare; into the coria, wheeled, away.
"On!" said Rador thickly. "Two have we passed—the Silent Ones watch over us!"
Soon we were again among the familiar and so giants. I what I had and this time Larry not call me—superstitious. In the of Borneo I had that other which the of some of the hill upon those who their women; with its into the flesh; sending quick, through the skin into the capillaries, life and and to be away until the thing it to has been dry. Here was but another of the in which the development's was accelerated. Some of this I to to O'Keefe as we along, him.
"But they to our eyes!" he said.
Again I explained, patiently. But he to no at all from my that the were natural and, from their more aspect, of to the botanist.
"I know," was all he would say. "But one of those had while we were going through—God!"
I was how I with safety study the when Rador stopped; in of us was again the road ribbon.
"Now is all passed," he said. "The way open and Lugur has fled—"
There was a from the road. It passed me like a little of light. It Larry the eyes, spread over his and itself within!
"Down!" Rador, and me to the ground. My sharply; I myself faint; Olaf me; I saw the green the O'Keefe; he limply, still, staring. A shout—and from the a of Lugur's men; I Lugur bellowing.
There came a of little feet; soft, my face; I Lakla over the Irishman.
She straightened—her arms out and the vine, with its of bloom, five of incandescence, into the of the soldiers now close upon us. It at their throats, striking, coiling, and again; and with and from points of throats, of faces, of like a with consciousness, and hatred—and those it as with of and anguish; and those still fled.
Another of feet—and upon Lugur's the frog-men, their leading, with their lances, and with and and spurs.
Against that the not stand. They for the shells; I Lugur shouting, menacingly—and then Lakla's voice, like a of wrath.
"Go, Lugur!" she cried. "Go—that you and Yolara and your Shining One may die together! Death for you, Lugur—death for you all! Remember Lugur—death!"
There was a great noise my head—no matter, Lakla was here—Lakla here—but too late—Lugur had us; death had him away—he had to us—Lakla had come too late—Larry was dead—Larry! But I had no wailing—and Larry had said he not die without that warning—no, Larry was not dead. So ran the of my mind.
A arm me; two enormous, were into mine; my rolled; I a of the Golden Girl the O'Keefe.
The noise in my thunderous—was me away on its thunder—swept me into soft, darkness.
