"Larry—Farewell!"
"My heart, Larry—" It was the handmaiden's murmur. "My like a bird that is from a of sorrow."
We were the length of the bridge, of the Akka us, others with those of that had to us; in of us the Rador a litter; him, in another, Nak, the frog-king—much less of him than there had been the began, but living.
Hours had passed since the terror I have just related. My had been to search for Throckmartin and his wife among the thick as autumn along the of stone, over the ledge, and back, as as the reach.
At last, Lakla and Larry helping, we them. They close to the bridge-end, not parted—locked tight in each other's arms, to face, her over his breast! As though when that life the Dweller had set them passed away, their own had come for one instant—and they had each other, and death had taken them.
"Love is than all things." The was softly. "Love left them. Love was than the Shining One. And when its fled, love with them—wherever go."
Of Stanton and Thora there was no trace; nor, after our of those other two, did I to look more. They were dead—and they were free.
We Throckmartin and Edith Olaf in Lakla's bower. But the of my old friend was the I gave it a and examination. The skin was and smooth, but cold; not the cold of death, but with a that set my unpleasantly. The was bloodless; the of and marked by white furrows, as though their had long collapsed. Lips, mouth, the tongue, was paper white. There was no of as we know it; no or upon the marble surface. Whatever the that, from the Dweller or its lair, had the dead-alive, it was against of any kind; that at least was certain.
But it was not against the of the Medusae, for, our sad done, and looking upon the waters, I saw the of the Dweller's dissolving, into the shifting of the upon them from every of the Sea of Crimson.
While the frog-men, those late from the forests, were and of of the of the dead, we to a leader of the ladala. They had risen, as the messenger had promised Rador. Fierce had been the in the city by the with those Lugur and Yolara had left to it. Deadly had been the of the fair-haired, the of they had been so long. Not without a of did I think of the beautiful, destroyed—evil though they may have been.
The city of Lara was a charnel. Of all the not had escaped, and these into regions of which to as would be mockery. Nor had the so well. Of all the men and women, for as well as men had taken their part in the war, not more than a tenth alive.
And the dancing of light in the air were thick, thick—they whispered.
They told us of the Shining One through the Veil, cometlike, its it, with it, in ranks that interminable!
Of the of the and in the Cyclopean temple; of the of the lights by hands—followed by the of the curtain, by of the cliffs; the their of all of entrance to the place the of the Shining One had slaved—the of the lair!
Then, when the of had ended in Lara, how, with victory, with the of those they had slain, they had the Shadow, passed through the Portal, met and the of Yolara's men—only to the here, too.
But of Marakinoff they had nothing! Had the Russian escaped, I wondered, or was he out there among the dead?
But now the were calling upon Lakla to come with them, to them.
"I don't want to, Larry darlin'," she told him. "I want to go out with you to Ireland. But for a time—I think the Three would have us and set that place in order."
The O'Keefe was about something else than the government of Muria.
"If they've killed off all the priests, who's to us, of mine?" he worried. "None of those Siya and Siyana rites, no what," he added hastily.
"Marry!" the incredulously. "Marry us? Why, Larry dear, we are married!"
The O'Keefe's was complete; his dropped; imminent.
"We are?" he gasped. "When?" he fatuously.
"Why, when the Mother us together her; when she put her hands on our after we had the promise! Didn't you that?" asked the wonderingly.
He looked at her, into the purity of the clear eyes, into the purity of the that out of them; all his own great love his face.
"An' is that for you, mavourneen?" he humbly.
"Enough?" The handmaiden's was complete, profound. "Enough? Larry darlin', what more we ask?"
He a breath, her close.
"Kiss the bride, Doc!" the O'Keefe. And for the third and, soul's sorrow! the last time, Lakla and blushing, I to the touch of her soft, sweet lips.
Quickly were our for made. Rador, conscious, his fast his wounds, was to be ahead of us. And when all was done, Lakla, Larry, and I our way up to the that was the to the of the Three. We knew, of course, that they had gone, following, no doubt, those I had in the mists, and who, to the of the Three at last from place that was their home, had their with them against the Shining One. Nor were we wrong. When the great rolled away, no of came out upon us. The was dim, tenantless; its that had Light now but faintly; the was empty; its of moon-flame gone.
A little time we stood, bent, reverent, our with and love—yes, and with for that so to us and yet so near; children as we, though so us, of our same Mother Earth.
And what I had been the of that promise they had from their and from Larry. And whence, if what the Three had said had been all true—whence had come their power to the at the very of its consummation?
"Love is than all things!" had said Lakla.
Was it that they had needed, must have, the which love, sacrifice, to their own power and to them to the evil, Thing so long by their own love? Did the of sacrifice, the will toward abnegation, have to be as as the eternals, by of hope, the Three make of it their key to the Dweller's and through at its life?
Here was a mystery—a indeed! Lakla closed the stone. The of the red dwarf's was when we a half-dozen of the water in a small not from where the Sekta their of bloom. The had the with them, and from the had them unperceived; up to the of the and all in one stroke. Well, Lugur, no what he of wickedness, also high courage.
The was with the dead-alive, the Akka them out by the hundreds, them into the waters. Through the which the Dweller had passed we as as we could, at last to the space where the waited. And not long after we past where the had and over the of the Midnight Pool.
Upon Lakla's we passed on to the of Lugur, not to Yolara's—I do not know why, but go there then she would not. And one of its rooms, of the black-haired folks, the wistfulness, the fear, all gone from their eyes, us.
There came to me a to see the they had told us of the Dweller's lair; to for myself it was not possible to make a way of entrance and to study its mysteries.
I spoke of this, and to my the and the O'Keefe an almost embarrassed to in my suggestion.
"Sure," Larry, "there's of time night!"
He himself sheepishly; a at Lakla.
"I keep forgettin' there's no night here," he mumbled.
"What did you say, Larry?" asked she.
"I said I wish we were in our home in Ireland, the sun go down," he to her. Vaguely I why she blushed.
But now I must hasten. We to the temple, and here at least the of the had been away. We passed through the blue-caverned space, the narrow that the sea stream, and, ascending, again upon the at the of the frowning, of jet.
Across the Silver Waters there was of neither Web of Rainbows the that I had out the Veil when the Shining One had out to its and its voice and to with the sacrifices. There was but a and rent of the against the lapped.
Long I looked—and away saddened. Knowing as I did what the had hidden, still it was as though some thing of and wonder had been away, to be replaced; a gone for ever; a work of the high gods destroyed.
"Let's go back," said Larry abruptly.
I a little them to a of carving—and, after all, they did not want me. I them slowly ahead, his arm around her, black close to bronze-gold ringlets. Then I followed. Half were they over the when through the of the I my name called softly.
"Goodwin! Dr. Goodwin!"
Amazed, I turned. From the of a group slunk—Marakinoff! My had been right. Some way he had escaped, through to here. He his hands high, came cautiously.
"I am finished," he whispered—"Done! I don't what they'll do to me." He toward the and Larry, now at the end of the and on, of all save each other. He closer. His were sunken, burning, mad; his with lines, as though a graver's tool had cut through it. I took a step backward.
A grin, like the of a fiend, the Russian's visage. He himself upon me, his hands at my throat!
"Larry!" I yelled—and as I around under the of his onslaught, saw the two turn, paralyzed, then toward me.
"But you'll nothing out of here!" Marakinoff. "No!"
My foot, out me, touched vacancy. The of the me. I its about me; myself forward.
I was falling—falling—with the Russian's hand me. I water, sank; the hands that my for a moment their clutch. I to loose; that I was being with speed on—full came—on the of that from some and rushing—where? A little time, a instants, I with the who me—inflexibly, indomitably.
Then a as of all the of the in my ears—blackness!
Consciousness returned slowly, agonizedly.
"Larry!" I groaned. "Lakla!"
A light was through my closed lids. It hurt. I opened my eyes, closed them with and of pain through them. Again I opened them cautiously. It was the sun!
I to my feet. Behind me was a of monoliths, and squared. Before me was the Pacific, and and smiling.
And not away, up on the as I had been, was—Marakinoff!
He there, and indeed. Yet all the through which we had passed—not the of death themselves—could wash from his the of triumph. With the last of my I the from the and pushed it out into the waves. A little ran up, about it, and it away, and bending. Another it, and another, playing with it. It from my sight—that which had been Marakinoff, with all his to turn our world into an undreamed-of-hell.
My to come to me. I a and slept; slept it must have been for many hours, for when I again the was the east. I will not tell my sufferings. Suffice it to say that I a and some fruit, and just had to up to the top of the and where I was.
The place was one of the of the Nan-Matal. To the north I the of the of Nan-Tauach, where was the moon door, black against the sky. Where was the moon door—which, someway, somehow, I must reach, and quickly.
At of the next day I got together and it together in shape of a with creepers. Then, with a paddle, I set for Nan-Tauach. Slowly, painfully, I up to it. It was late I my on the little beach the sea-gates and, up the steps, my way to the enclosure.
And at its opening I stopped, and the ran my while I with and with and with weariness.
For the great in which had been set the we had to the land of the Shining One and broken. The were about; the had fallen, and about them a of water, them.
There was no moon door!
Dazed and weeping, I closer, upon their fragments. I looked out only upon the sea. There had been a great subsidence, an earth shock, perhaps, all that side—the echo, little doubt, of that which had the Dweller's lair!
The little called Tau, in which were the seven globes, had disappeared. Upon the there was no of it.
The moon door was gone; the passage to the Moon Pool was closed to me—its by the sea!
There was no road to Larry—nor to Lakla!
And there, for me, the world ended.
