There was an unearthly mercilessness in Norhala's voice.
The eunuch raised his head; slowly, fearfully.
"Goddess!" he whispered."Goddess! Mercy!""I saved him," she turned to us, "for you to slay.He it was who brought those who took the maid who was mine and the helpless one she loved.Slay him."Drake understood--his hand twitched down to his pistol, drew it.He leveled the gun at the black eunuch.Yuruk saw it--shrieked and cowered.Norhala laughed--sweetly, ruthlessly.
"He dies before the stroke falls," she said."He dies doubly therefore--and that is well."Drake slowly lowered the automatic; turned to me.
"I can't," he said."I can't--do it--"
"Masters!" Upon his knees the eunuch writhed toward us."Masters--I meant no wrong.What I did was for love of the Goddess.Years upon years I have served her.And her mother before her.
"I thought if the maid and the blasted one were gone, that you would follow.Then I would be alone with the Goddess once more.Cherkis will not slay them--and Cherkis will welcome you and give the maid and the blasted one back to you for the arts that you can teach him.
"Mercy, Masters, I meant no harm--bid the Goddess be merciful!"The ebon pools of eyes were clarified of their ancient shadows by his terror; age was wiped from them by fear, even as it was wiped from his face.The wrinkles were gone.Appallingly youthful, the face of Yuruk prayed to us.
"Why do you wait?" she asked us."Time presses, and even now we should be on the way.When so many are so soon to die, why tarry over one? Slay him!""Norhala," I answered, "we cannot slay him so.When we kill, we kill in fair fight--hand to hand.The maid we both love has gone, taken with her brother.It will not bring her back if we kill him through whom she was taken.We would punish him--yes, but slay him we cannot.
And we would be after the maid and her brother quickly."A moment she looked at us, perplexity shading the high and steady anger.
"As you will," she said at last; then added, half sarcastically, "Perhaps it is because I who am now awake have slept so long that I cannot understand you.But Yuruk has disobeyed ME.That of MINE which I committed to his care he has given to the enemies of me and those who were mine.It matters nothing to me what YOUwould do.Matters to me only what I will to do."She pointed to the dead.
"Yuruk"--the golden voice was cold--"gather up these carrion and pile them together."The eunuch arose, stole out fearfully from between the two stars.He slithered to body after body, dragging them one after the other to the center of the chamber, lifting them and forming of them a heap.One there was who was not dead.His eyes opened as the eunuch seized him, the blackened mouth opened.
"Water!" he begged."Give me drink.I burn!"I felt a thrill of pity; lifted my canteen and walked toward him.
"You of the beard," the merciless chime rang out, "he shall have no water.But drink he shall have, and soon--drink of fire!"
The soldier's fevered eyes rolled toward her, saw and read aright the ruthlessness in the beautiful face.
"Sorceress!" he groaned."Cursed spawn of Ahriman!"He spat at her.
The black talons of Yuruk stretched around his throat "Son of unclean dogs!" he whined."You dare blaspheme the Goddess!"He snapped the soldier's neck as though it had been a rotten twig.
At the callous cruelty I stood for an instant petrified;I heard Drake swear wildly, saw his pistol flash up.
Norhala struck down his arm.
"Your chance has passed," she said, "and not for THATshall you slay him."
And now Yuruk had cast that body upon the others;the pile was complete.
"Mount!" commanded Norhala, and pointed.He cast himself at her feet, writhing, moaning, imploring.She looked at one of the great Shapes; something of command passed from her, something it understood plainly.
The star slipped forward--there was an almost imperceptible movement of its side points.The twitching form of the black seemed to leap up from the floor, to throw itself like a bag upon the mound of the dead.
Norhala threw up her hands.Out of the violet ovals beneath the upper tips of the Things spurted streams of blue flame.They fell upon Yuruk and splashed over him upon the heap of the slain.In the mound was a dreadful movement, a contortion; the bodies stiffened, seemed to try to rise, to push away--dead nerves and muscles responding to the blasting energy passing through them.
Out from the stars rained bolt upon bolt.In the chamber was the sound of thunder, crackling like broken glass.
The bodies flamed, crumbled.There was a little smoke--nauseous, feebly protesting, beaten out by the consuming fires almost before it could rise.
Where had been the heap of slain capped by the black eunuch there was but a little whirling cloud of sad gray dust.Caught by a passing draft, it eddied, slipped over the floor, vanished through the doorway.Motionless stood the blasting stars, contemplating us.Motionless stood Norhala, her wrath no whit abated by the ghastly sacrifice.
And paralyzed by what we had beheld, motionless stood we.
"Listen," she said."You two who love the maid.What you have seen is nothing to that which you SHALL see--a wisp of mist to the storm cloud.""Norhala"--I found speech--"can you tell us when it was that the maid was captured?"Perhaps there was still time to overtake the abductors before Ruth was thrust into the worse peril waiting where she was being carried.Crossed this thought another--puzzling, baffling.The cliffs Yuruk had pointed out to me as those through which the hidden way passed were, I had estimated then, at least twenty miles away.And how long was the pass, the tunnel, through them? And then how far this place of the armored men? It had been past dawn when Drake had frightened the black eunuch with his pistol.It was not yet dawn now.How could Yuruk have made his way to the Persians so swiftly--how could they so swiftly have returned?
Amazingly she answered the spoken question and the unspoken.
