The Coming of the Shining OneTHE NORSEMAN turned toward us.There was now no mad-ness in his eyes; only a great weariness.And there was peace on the once tortured face.
"Helma," he whispered, "I go a little before! Soon you will come to me--to me and the Yndling who will await you --Helma, _mine liebe!_"Blood gushed from his mouth; he swayed, fell.And thus died Olaf Huldricksson.
We looked down upon him; nor did Lakla, nor Larry, nor I try to hide our tears.And as we stood the _Akka_ brought to us that other mighty fighter, Rador; but in him there was life, and we attended to him there as best we could.
Then Lakla spoke.
"We will bear him into the castle where we may give him greater care," she said."For, lo! the hosts of Yolara have been beaten back; and on the bridge comes Nak with tid-ings."
We looked over the parapet.It was even as she had said.
Neither on ledge nor bridge was there trace of living men of Muria--only heaps of slain that lay everywhere--and thick against the cavern mouth still danced the flashing atoms of those the green ray had destroyed.
"Over!" exclaimed Larry incredulously."We live then--heart of mine!"
"The Silent Ones recall their veils," she said, pointing to the dome.Back through the slitted opening the radiance was streaming; withdrawing from sea and island; marching back over the bridge with that same ordered, intelligent motion.
Behind it the red light pressed, like skirmishers on the heels of a retreating army.
"And yet--" faltered the handmaiden as we passed into her chamber, and doubtful were the eyes she turned upon the O'Keefe.
"I don't believe," he said, "there's a kick left in them--"What was that sound beating into the chamber faintly, so faintly? My heart gave a great throb and seemed to stop for an eternity.What was it--coming nearer, ever nearer? Now Lakla and O'Keefe heard it, life ebbing from lips and cheeks.
Nearer, nearer--a music as of myriads of tiny crystal bells, tinkling, tinkling--a storm of pizzicati upon violins of glass!
Nearer, nearer--not sweetly now, nor luring; no--raging, wrathful, sinister beyond words; sweeping on; nearer--The Dweller! The Shining One!
We leaped to the narrow window; peered out, aghast.The bell notes swept through and about us, a hurricane.The crescent strand was once more a ferment.Back, back were the _Akka_ being swept, as though by brooms, tottering on the edge of the ledge, falling into the waters.Swiftly they were finished; and where they had fought was an eddying throng clothed in tatters or naked, swaying, drifting, arms tossing --like marionettes of Satan.
The dead-alive! The slaves of the Dweller!
They swayed and tossed, and then, like water racing through an opened dam, they swept upon the bridge-head.
On and on they pushed, like the bore of a mighty tide.The frog-men strove against them, clubbing, spearing, tearing them.But even those worst smitten seemed not to fall.On they pushed, driving forward, irresistible--a battering ram of flesh and bone.They clove the masses of the _Akka_, press-ing them to the sides of the bridge and over.Through the open gates they forced them--for there was no room for the frog-men to stand against that implacable tide.
Then those of the _Akka_ who were left turned their backs and ran.We heard the clang of the golden wings of the por-tal, and none too soon to keep out the first of the Dweller's dreadful hordes.
Now upon the cavern ]edge and over the whole length of the bridge there were none but the dead-alive, men and women, black-polled _ladala_, sloe-eyed Malays, slant-eyed Chinese, men of every race that sailed the seas--milling, turning, swaying, like leaves caught in a sluggish current.
The bell notes became sharper, more insistent.At the cav-ern mouth a radiance began to grow--a gleaming from which the atoms of diamond dust seemed to try to flee.As the radiance grew and the crystal notes rang nearer, every head of that hideous multitude turned stiffly, slowly toward the right, looking toward the far bridge end; their eyes fixed and glaring; every face an inhuman mask of rapture and of horror!
A movement shook them.Those in the centre began to stream back, faster and ever faster, leaving motionless deep ranks on each side.Back they flowed until from golden doors to cavern mouth a wide lane stretched, walled on each side by the dead-alive.
The far radiance became brighter; it gathered itself at the end of the dreadful lane; it was shot with sparklings and with pulsings of polychromatic light.The crystal storm was in-tolerable, piercing the ears with countless tiny lances;brighter still the radianceFrom the cavern swirled the Shining One!
The Dweller paused, seemed to scan the island of the Silent Ones half doubtfully; then slowly, stately, it drifted out upon the bridge.Closer it drew; behind it glided Yolara at the head of a company of her dwarfs, and at her side was the hag of the Council whose face was the withered, shat-tered echo of her own.
Slower grew the Dweller's pace as it drew nearer.Did Isense in it a doubt, an uncertainty? The crystal-tongued, unseen choristers that accompanied it subtly seemed to re-flect the doubt; their notes were not sure, no longer insistent;rather was there in them an undertone of hesitancy, of warn-ing! Yet on came the Shining One until it stood plain be-neath us, searching with those eyes that thrust from and withdrew into unknown spheres, the golden gateway, the cliff face, the castle's rounded bulk--and more intently than any of these, the dome wherein sat the Three.
Behind it each face of the dead-alive turned toward it, and those beside it throbbed and gleamed with its luminescence.
Yolara crept close, just beyond the reach of its spirals.
