The Three Silent Ones
The was closer—and in my I for the moment Larry and else. For this was no rainbow, no thing of light and mist, no Bifrost Bridge of myth—no! It was a of stone, with of Tyrian purples, of scarlets, of dark as the Gulf Stream's ribbon, soft as May skies, of and greens—a of giantry, a of wizardry; a hundred, nay, a thousand, times than that of Utah which the Navaho call Nonnegozche and worship, as well they may, as a god, and which is itself a in rock.
It from the and its length in one low over the sea's breast, as though in some of earth it had been molten, into that and still with the that had it.
Closer we came and closer, while I spellbound; now we were at its head, and the litter-bearers upon it. All of five hundred wide it was, surface as a city road, low walled, as though in the jetting-out of its making the of the plastic had curled.
On and on we sped; the high upon which the bridge's end rested, close; the enigmatic, greater. Now we had that end; were over a level was enclosed, save for a in of us, by the of the black cliffs.
From this another span, a mile long, perhaps, at its centre into a platform, to two gates set the of the second like panels, and of the same gold as the high beyond. And this smaller a pit, an abyss, of which the were the from the the red flood.
We were approaching; now upon the platform; my were closely along the side; I out—a me! I into upon depth; an indeed—an to world's like that in which the Babylonians Talaat, the mother of Chaos; a that into earth's itself.
Now, what was that—distance upon below? A like the green fire of life itself. What was it like? I had it! It was like the of the sun in eclipse—that that makes of our when moon it an of in the black heavens.
And strangely, strangely, it was like the Dweller's when with its and it its of sounds!
The was us; we had paused at the portals; they inward. A wide with soft light was us, and on its stood—bizarre, yellow gleaming, wide in what was meant for a of welcome—the woman of the Moon Pool wall.
Lakla her head; the of her and at me with from weeping. The frog-woman to her side; upon Larry; spoke—spoke—to the Golden Girl in a of the sonorous, monosyllables; and Lakla answered her in kind. The over O'Keefe's face, at his heart; she her and moved ahead of us up the passage.
Still in the we on, winding, until at last they were set in a great with soft and into which from high narrow the light from without.
I jumped over to Larry, there had been no in his condition; still the limpness, the slow, pulsation. Rador and Olaf—and the now to be gone from him—came and me, silent.
"I go to the Three," said Lakla. "Wait you here." She passed through a curtaining; then as as she had gone she returned through the hangings, braided, a of about her.
"Rador," she said, "bear you Larry—for into your the Silent Ones would look. And nothing," she added at the green dwarf's disconcerted, almost start.
Rador bowed, was by Olaf.
"No," said the Norseman; "I will him."
He Larry like a child against his breast. The at Lakla; she nodded.
"Come!" she commanded, and the folds.
Of that I have memories. I only know that we through upon corridor; of and chambers, some with the rushes, others with into which the as into deep, soft meadows; by the light, and in which lights sway.
We paused a of the same as that the green had called the portal, and upon its surface the same symbols. The Golden Girl pressed upon its side; it back; a of out of the opening—and as one in a I entered.
We were, I knew, just under the dome; but for the moment, in the of radiance, I see nothing. It was like being a fire opal—so brilliant, so flashing, was it. I closed my eyes, opened them; the from the of the walls; in of me was a long, narrow opening in them, through which, away, I see the end of the wizards' and the mouth of the through which we had come; against the light from the light from without—and was as though by a barrier.
I Lakla's touch; turned.
A hundred away was a dais, its a above the floor. From the of this a steady, of the opalescence, as was that of the Dweller's and with milky like moonlight; up it like a wall.
Over it, from it, upon me, three faces—two male, one a woman's. At the I them statues, and then the of them gave the to me; for the were alive, terribly, and if I admit the word—supernaturally—alive.
They were thrice the size of the and triangular, the of the upward; black as jet, pupilless, with tiny, red flames.
Over them were foreheads, not as ours—high and and visored; their into a ridge, a prominence, an wedge, like the of a of the great lizards—and the heads, long, at the back, were twice the size of mankind's!
Upon the were caps—and with a I that they were not caps—long, thick of yellow, thin as sequins! Sharp, like the of the condors; mouths thin, austere; long, powerful, pointed chins; the—flesh—of the white as the marble; and up to them, all their bodies, the shimmering, curdled, of opalescence!
Olaf rigid; my own wildly. What—what were these beings?
I myself to look again—and from their a of reassurance, of good will—nay, of strength. I saw that they were not fierce, not ruthless, not inhuman, despite their strangeness; no, they were kindly; in some way, and sorrowful—so sorrowful! I straightened, at them fearlessly. Olaf a breath, too, the hardness, the from his face.
Now Lakla closer to the dais; the three of hers, the woman's with an tenderness; some message to pass the Three and the Golden Girl. She low, to the Norseman.
"Place Larry there," she said softly—"there at the of the Silent Ones."
She pointed into the mist; Olaf started, hesitated, from Lakla to the Three, for a moment their eyes—and something like a through them. He forward, O'Keefe, set him the light. It wavered, rolled upward, about the body, again—and it there was no of Larry!
Again the wavered, shook, and to climb higher, the chins, the noses, the of that Trinity—but it to climb, I the yellow bent; a movement as though they something.
The fell; the out again, inscrutable.
And out of the radiance, at the of the dais, from it, came Larry, laughing, with life, as one who from into sunshine. He saw Lakla, to her, her in his arms.
"Lakla!" he cried. "Mavourneen!" She from his embrace, blushing, at the Three shyly, half-fearfully. And again I saw the into the inky, flame-shot of the woman being; and a in the others too—as though they some well-beloved child.
"You in the arms of Death, Larry," she said. "And the Silent Ones you from him. Do to the Silent Ones, Larry, for they are good and they are mighty!"
She his with one of the long, white hands—and he looked into the of the Three; looked long, was as had been Olaf and myself; was by that same of power and of—of—what can I call it?—holiness that from them.
Then for the time I saw into his face. Another moment he stared—and upon one and his them as would a the of his saint. And—I am not to tell it—I joined him; and with us Lakla and Olaf and Rador.
The of up about the Three; them.
And with a long, deep, Lakla took Larry's hand, him to his feet, and we them out of that of wonder.
But why, in going, did the come to me that from where the Three sat they the mouth that was the door into their abode; and looked into the in which and that flower, colossal, awesome, of green that had to me fire of life itself?
