CHAPTER XX
How can I make clear the dismay, the confusion that swept over us at this unexpected outcome to our supposedly successful escape? What could we do? Retrace our way back through the winding tunnel? There were many diverging passageways: we would lose ourselves hopelessly in this honeycombed mud-bank. And before us was the cave, into which we could not venture without the practical certainty of capture.
Too bewildered to do otherwise, we crouched and stared down into the cave. It was less crowded now, but there were still a hundred or more Maagogs on its floor, and dispersed about its wall niches.
Across from us, almost at the same level, was that other ledge on which we had formerly perched. Behind it, its tunnel showed as a small circle of blackness. Perhaps we could swim across the cave unnoticed—get into that other, now familiar, passageway—then through the coral barrier and into the open water. . . To safety. . . Unless the monster were still there. . .
Atar aroused me from these thoughts. He was pointing downward into the cave.
“Nemo. Caan. What is he doing there?”
On the platform, Og and three of the white old men were gathered. Around them a small school of fishes was swimming. Ten or twenty fishes—short, squat things, two or three feet long, smooth, dull black skins, and with huge distended mouths. For all their size there was about them an aspect of extraordinary strength—their powerful squat build, the alertness of their movements.
My heart almost stopped with the sudden realization that these fishes—or were they fishes?—were not swimming aimlessly, but were waiting for Og’s command! Like a pack of trained animals they circled about their master. Then Og called to them. They answered with full-throated, yelping cries! Fishes with voices, you exclaim? You need not be amazed. There are “shouting fishes” even in your own waters of Earth.
Og was bending over the shell where Nona had been bound. The rushes that had bound her and which Atar had cut, were still lying there. At Og’s call these swimming creatures gathered around him eagerly. The sound of their voices—yelping, whining—was blood-curdling. Og was raising up the severed bonds—holding them out; and the fishes were smelling of them!
Then, in a pack they gathered; and Og, leading them, swam with them across the cave up near its ceiling to that other ledge from whence, with Nona, we had made our escape.
The black fishes entered the other passageway, with Og and half a dozen other Maagogs after them. As they swept down into it, their gruesome cries died away into the distance.
You, with your knowledge of similar things, will doubtless think it stupid of us to be puzzled at the meaning of all this—at its danger to us. Yet—we had no way of knowing. We stared at each other, relieved that these ugly black things which uncannily answered Og’s commands, had disappeared.
“Nemo! You are hurt!” It was Nona, who now had noticed that my arm was bleeding where the Maagog girl’s dagger had ripped it.
“Nothing.” I said; and I wiped it against my robe.
We tried to plan what we should do. Could we cross the cave? The Maagog girl was still down there, near the platform, with eyes alert to everything around her—eyes that still smouldered with hate and jealous rage. No. To enter the cave would be to court almost certain discovery. We would have to retrace our way—find some other tunnel to lead us out into the open water.
We were starting back, had gone perhaps a hundred yards, when far ahead of us down the narrow passageway, we heard sounds. Yelps! Cries! Whines! Not human—the cries of those squat fishes with their huge slimy jaws!
Panic seized us. We darted back toward the cave. Then forward again, trying to find a side tunnel. But along here there was none.
The yelps grew louder; Og’s voice mingled with them. And then, before we could decide in which direction to go, like a pack of eager hounds following a trail and come at last upon their quarry the black fishes swept down upon us. I tried to fight them off—tried to protect Nona. But they darted about me, under me, over me, and gripped me from every side. Teeth like needles, ripping, tearing at my flesh. . . Og’s voice shouting a command. . . Caan screaming a warning at me. . . Then something heavy struck my head. Silence and blackness descended upon me.
I recovered consciousness to find myself lying in a bed of mud in a dim, cave-like room. My first sensation was one of heat; the water I was breathing was hot, stifling. My head throbbed.
Nona, Caan and Atar were gathered over me, waiting anxiously for me to recover my senses. Nona, hearing my weak voice, seeing my eyes open, threw herself down beside me.
I was not greatly injured. Og had struck me on the head with the flat of his spear. It had cut my scalp and raised an ugly lump. Besides that, the flesh of my legs, arms and shoulders was torn by those fishes’ teeth as if by needles.
The plight of Caan, Atar, and even my dear Nona, was similar—but with none of us was it serious.
They told me now, that we were captives. Back there in the tunnel Og had called off his attacking fishes—called them from us or we would have been torn to ribbons. Then, floating me with them, the Maagogs under Og’s direction had brought us here to this small room adjacent to the main cave—and left us.
I sat up, then swam a little. I was all right! Nona was all right—we were all safe and sound! My hopes revived. Why should we not now escape?
But none of my companions reflected my jubilant mood.
“Let him look around,” said Caan to Atar. Never had I heard Caan speak so sourly, so despondently.
I did look around. We were in a black mud room some forty feet square and half as high. It was bare of furnishings; and lighted overhead by a crude sort of illuminated bladder that gave off a dull green glow. On one side against the black wall were beds, hollowed out of the mud. Toyouthey would have looked like shallow graves; and in one of them I had been lying. Across the room was a shelf of mud with a dozen clay seats on it—like a row of huge toadstools.
A third side gave into a tunnel. I approached it eagerly; then drew back shuddering. That pack of blood-hound fishes was out there, circling back and forth, on guard. They saw me, and darted lazily forward. As I stopped, they seemed satisfied, and went back to their endless circling, following every twist and turn of two or three who seemed to lead them.
Caan laughed cynically. “Not there, Nemo, you see.”
My arms went protectingly about Nona, and she drew me wordlessly to the fourth side of the room. The wall here was gone. A grating of woven seaweed like prison bars, took its place. I stood on a precipice, gazing through the bars into a black void of water.
Can I make you understand the shuddering fear that possessed me? This water out there was moving swiftly downward, like a torrent, or a subterranean waterfall. Its current, drawing the water out of the room, flattened me involuntarily against the bars.
I had never seen swiftly moving water before. I felt asyouwould feel gazing from a great height into a dizzy abyss. And this water I could see, was boiling hot down there. But for those bars, I should have been whirled down into it! And from far below I could hear a faint sizzling, as of water dropped on a bed of embers.
I forced myself away from the grating, back into the center of the room; and now I was aware that all the water in the room was coming from the tunnel and passing in a current through those bars.
“You see,” said Atar, trying to speak calmly. “You see now—”
But Og abruptly entered from the tunnel. He hovered before us, leering. Nona shrank against me, and I folded her in my arms.
Og did not glance at Nona. He said to Caan: “Have you decided?”
“No,” Caan answered. “He is but this moment recovered. We—”
“Tell him now. I will wait.” Og turned away, swam over to the grating and gazed through it to that boiling, tumbling water.
Then Caan told me. Og offered us freedom—us three men. He would send us back to Rax. The price of it was Nona’s promise to be his Queen—a willing, smiling Queen, none other would the Maagogs have.
I could feel Nona shudder against me, but she said no word.
“No!” I shouted. “No! No!”
Og heard me and smiled. “There is another way. Tell him, Caan.”
And if we did not agree—if Nona did not give her promise—Og, the Executioner, would open the grating and let us three men slip out—down into that boiling water our helpless bodies would be sucked. . .
As Caan said it, my Nona burst out: “And Nona, too.Thatis best.”
But even that, Og heard. “No,” he smiled. “Not Nona. She will stay here with me—to rule as Queen when I have coaxed the smiles back to her pretty face.”
I was suddenly aware of another figure in the room. That Maagog girl had slipped in from the tunnel. She heard Og’s words. Her face smouldered with fury; but it was Nona, not Og, at whom she gazed so balefully. And I knew then that if ever Nona were left with Og—if we men were killed—this woman would kill Nona if she could.
Og faced the girl.
“Well, Maaret? Why do you come here?” He addressed her gruffly. “Did I not tell you to stay away?”
She gestured behind her. “The time is on us. They are ready—coming now. And Og, I knew that you had forgotten.”
Og grinned. “Yes, girl, you speak well—I had forgotten.” It was doubtless very amusing; he was chuckling as he whirled on us who were hovering in a huddled group. “A fortunate occurrence, my friends from Rax. You shall swim aside now—and watch me as I perform this little duty of mine. You shall see how cleverly, how gracefully I do it.”
He was still grinning; his voice was ironical, mocking—but his eyes were gleaming at Nona. “It will helpyouto decide, my Queen—help you to choose the fate of your Nemo, your little toy Prince Atar, and your Caan the shell-gatherer!”
There were sounds in the tunnel now—a low wailing, monotonous, like a chant, a dirge. Og waved us imperiously away. Maaret, the Maagog girl, led us to the side of the room near the grating. We followed her, but I kept myself between her and Nona. And there, flattened against the mud wall, we watched and listened.
The wailing swelled in volume, then ceased abruptly. From the tunnel a line of figures came swimming—Maagog women, eight of them. Each held a child; an infant hugged to the mother breast; two or three older little boys dangling in the water held by the mother’s hand; and one, a boy almost half grown, swimming close by his mother’s side.
The children were all naked—puffed, dead-white little things, with goggling eyes and gaping mouths. One or two were crying.
The line slowly passed me, swung about, and went to the platform. On that row of toadstool seats the mothers took their places. They sat there drooping, hugging their children. The older boy huddled against his mother’s knees; his face, turned my way, showed great, staring eyes, dark with a terror but half understood. He was whimpering a little, but his mother silenced him with a low-spoken word.
Og, swimming slowly, went the length of the line, counting the women, searching their faces and the faces of the children. Evidently he was satisfied that all who should be, were there.
“You are ready?” he said.
My gaze, following his, swept the line. A woman sobbed; another clutched her infant hungrily; but they all nodded assent.
“You first,” said Og abruptly. He darted an arm at one of the women. A tremor shook her; a shudder; but obediently she held out her infant to Og. He took it, swam with it to the grating, and opened a little gateway that was there.
As he held the infant poised, his glance turned to me; his eyes were grinning sardonically. Atar was cursing softly. I started forward, but Caan held me back.
“No use, Nemo!”
Og’s arms went up; he slid the infant through the little gateway. I heard its mother scream; but my eyes, fascinated, were on that black, tumbling void of water.
The baby’s body, caught by the current, floated out and downward—slowly at first, then more swiftly. Gradually it turned over. . . An infant face—big eyes full of staring surprise. . . a puny wail of protest as the water grew hotter. . .
Down it went, whirling now—a tiny white blob. . . white, then pink—then turning red. . .
I sank back, sick and faint. And Nona, who had not looked, whispered tremblingly to me the meaning of it all. There were too many male children being born to the Maagogs—too many useless mouths to feed. After each tenth time of sleep, male children were drawn by lot in the different community houses and sent up here to this death chamber for execution.
Og the Executioner! How efficiently, with a smile on his lips, he performed his grisly duty!
Youread of this with a shudder perhaps? You marvel that in even so remote a hole of the Universe as this Water of Wild Things in the bowels of my little meteor, such ghastly, inhuman things should take place? You forget. Can you not recall that on your own fair Earth, not so very long ago, they cast infant girl-babies into the sacrificial waters of the Granges, to the hungry, eager jaws of the crocodiles?
I did not look again. Occasionally there was a sob—a scream; once, a brief, despairing scuffle as some mother found the ordeal beyond her strength. The little half-grown boy, as he passed me with Og’s hand in his, gazed at me with a dumb, terrified appeal . . . I hated myself as I looked away. . .
Then—it was all over. The little gateway was replaced. The mothers—empty-armed—swam silently out into the tunnel, through the parted ranks of those alert-eyed, guarding fishes.
Maaret, the girl, had disappeared. Og was again alone with us. His lips were leering triumphantly.
“You see how well I do my work? Quickly—without confusion.” The leer abruptly faded into grim menace; his eyes blazed at us.
“You may take your choice. The hot water, there—” His gesture was to the grating—“Or the cool, sweet water of Rax. But in either case, Nona shall be my Queen.”
He turned away. At the tunnel entrance, he paused. “Soon I shall come back for your answer.”
He was gone.
CHAPTER XXI
What were we to do? With such a choice, what could we say? Soon Og would return for his answer! The water of the cave still seemed ringing with his grim, sardonic voice.
Hopelessly we sat down for discussion. Nona sat on one of the seats where but a few moments before a Maagog mother had dropped and yielded up her infant to the boiling torrent beyond the grating. I shuddered and pulled Nona away. On the floor, near the center of the cave, we gathered in a huddled group. I braced my feet in the mud, for the current pressed us toward that ghastly grating, beyond which lay death.
The cave was silent save for the sinister hiss of steam beneath it. In the lurid green glow of the lamp overhead our faces were livid, death-like. Death hung all about us. An unseen, imponderable spectre, it seemed to lurk in the very water we breathed.
We were alone—yet not alone either. At the tunnel-mouth those squat black fishes circled back and forth on guard. Occasionally two or three would enter the cave. Poised before us, their eyes seemed gauging us. Uncanny eyes! Eyes almost like those of an intelligent dog whose master has set him to guard an enemy and who is watching suspiciously, expectantly, that enemy’s every move. We lowered our voices subconsciously, as though fearing that the black fishes would hear us and understand.
At first we had little to say. It was all so hopeless. We could not allow Og to return us to Rax and yield up Nona to him. That was unthinkable. And yet, if we did not— The memory of those infants’ bodies as they slid downward into the boiling torrent made us shudder with a fear that is implanted deep in every human heart.
Cowards? I do not think you could call us that. But the man who tells you he has faced death—in a calm moment of physical inactivity—without fear, is a liar.
We were all of us afraid, numbed, confused. Abruptly Atar laughed. But his laugh was hollow.
“We must plan something,” he said. “We sit here like terrified children.”
It was Caan who outlined the situation for us. “Og,” he said, “undoubtedly wanted us to accept freedom. He could easily kill us now and keep Nona; but he wanted Nona’s promise to be his willing, smiling queen. None other would the Maagogs have.”
We could, therefore, count upon Og’s returning us three men to Rax, if that were our choice. But could we? It was I who voiced the question. Caan had suggested that possibly we could get to Rax and return at once with others to help us rescue Nona.
“How do we know that Og will not betray us at the last moment?” I demanded. “How easily can he take us to the entrance to Marinoid waters, and there murder us! Returning here, he would tell Nona we were safe in Rax, and hold her to her promise.”
It was thus, doubtless, the crafty Og was planning. He wanted Nona’s promise—and yet certainly he would not want us three men back in Rax, with our knowledge of the Maagog plans, and of the coming war.
Then Nona herself suggested a possible way out of our desperate situation.
“I shall tell Og,” she cried, “that we cannot be sure he will live up to his promise. If he returns you to Rax, I will agree to be his queen. His smiling queen.” She shuddered, and her body pressed against mine. “I shall tell him that. And, Nemo, do you not understand? I shall tell him he must take me also to the Marinoid entrance so that I may see you three swim safely into Marinoid waters. He will do that, no doubt. And there—at the last moment—you will fight—we will all fight.”
Her white face turned to me; her beautiful lips were pressed grimly together. “Fight, my Nemo! Then we shall escape—if we can surprise him. Or at least we shall all die together.”
To such a desperate plan our despair forced us. It seemed the only way. We discussed it—for how long I cannot say. And then, abruptly we saw Og again in the tunnel-mouth. The black fishes were swarming about him—fawning upon him with their grewsome whines of pleasure. He stopped to stroke one of them.
“You have decided?” he said to us.
“Yes,” said Atar.
Fear seemed to have dropped from our young prince. For the first time since we left Rax, he dominated Caan and me. He stood now fronting Og unflinching—his face white and set, his eyes smouldering.
But his lips were smiling. “We do not desire death,” he said. “We will return to Rax, and she will give the promise you ask.”
He turned to Nona, signing her to speak. “You will trust him to send us safely to Rax?” he added.
“No!” cried Nona. And she added, with a flow of woman’s words, the proposal we had planned—her insistence that she be taken along to see us safely into Marinoid waters.
Og listened silently. Then he gazed from one to the other of us. The crafty smile on his face made my heart sink.
“You think perhaps to escape with her on the journey?” he suggested. And when we did not answer, his arm waved away the idea. “I shall take care that you do not.” Then to Nona: “You speak well, my queen. For your promise I will do much. You shall go.”
Again he was silent, pondering. I could almost see some new murderous scheme taking form in his brain. He added suddenly:
“Of course, you shall go, Queen of the Maagogs, if that is your wish.”
He turned toward the tunnel mouth. The black fishes were crowded there, staring at us. Og’s sardonic laugh rang out.
“Patience, little black ones. You will go with us, of course. You will go to see that my queen does not escape me!”
He swung back to Atar, and said curtly: “During the next sleep time we will start. The Maagogs—some of them—think I ought to kill you now—not send you back to Rax. We will leave while they are asleep—to avoid trouble. I shall come for you then.”
He bowed ironically to Nona, swam to the tunnel-mouth, and with a parting admonition to the fishes gathered there, he disappeared.
Again we were alone. Our plans already had miscarried. We realized it. As though our thoughts had been written on our faces, Og had understood our purpose. There would be no chance for us to escape with Nona. The black fishes were going with us. And during that coming journey, we knew Og intended to kill us men—kill us and still make Nona think we were safe—hold her to her promise.
Time passed. The warm water of the cave oppressed us—yet we were all cold with fear and despair. The very silence of the room seemed sinister—that tense silence that urges one to scream. We were not talking now—we were thinking—planning a thousand desperate, impractical plans, all of which seemed to mean nothing but death for us men, and worse than death for Nona. It must be now the Time of Sleep . . . Og would be back soon . . . I held my Nona close—waiting. . . .
In the tunnel a dim human figure appeared, taking shape out of the distant blackness of the passageway. It was swimming swiftly but silently toward us. Through the moving ranks of the black fishes circling there, it threaded its way.
But it was not Og! And then we saw it was a woman—a Maagog woman—Maaret, the girl!
Nona was nearest to the tunnel. I flung myself forward to protect her. But just inside our cave Maaret stopped. Her furtive glance swept the tunnel behind her.
Then she turned to me. And her gesture warned us all to be silent!
CHAPTER XXII
Maaret’s voice when she spoke was low, cautious. We listened to her swift words, our hearts pounding with sudden hope. She said she had come to save us! Her motive was clear, we already understood it. Yet she told us it, briefly, and with a direct simplicity that carried the conviction of truth.
Since Og had returned from living in Rax (after his combat with me) Maaret had belonged to him. She loved him. Then had come this woman Nona. Maaret’s gaze swept my poor innocent Nona with hatred. This woman Nona, she said, had (with her strange, uncanny looks which Og thought were beauty) won Og from her.
In brief, Maaret wished only that we all—with Nona—return to Rax. Then perhaps she could make Og love her again. Our escape, taking Nona with us, was all she desired.
“Or the death of all of us,” Caan suggested. And his look to me was significant.
Maaret gestured vehemently. “That, of course,” she admitted frankly. “The black fishes I would set upon you now. But your screams would bring Og. You would not die. I should lose him by that way.”
She seemed indeed sincere. She said she could command the black fishes. She would take them away—lock them up. And then we could escape. But we must hurry. It was already the Time of Sleep. At any moment Og would be here.
We consulted; Maaret swam to the mouth of the passageway and gazed anxiously into it.
“Can we trust her?” Caan demanded. “Will she not let us start, perhaps, and then set the black fishes upon us?”
It was possible; and yet we had to trust her.
Atar called her back. “Which way do we go? We will get lost, girl. Will you go with us, until we get to open water?”
She would not. If Og knew what she had done he would kill her. But we could easily find our way. This tunnel led into the main cave. Everyone there would be asleep at this hour. We could slip unnoticed across the cave, up to that ledge and into that other tunnel which was familiar to us. From there we knew our way—through the shallow coral barrier, and up into the open Water of Wild Things.
“A monster may be there at the tunnel entrance,” I suggested.
She admitted it, but of that we had to take our chance.
“The girl speaks truth,” Atar said suddenly. “I like her. I believe her.”
Maaret’s smile answered him, but her worried gaze was still on the passageway by which at any moment now Og might arrive.
“We must go,” agreed Nona. And then she startled us all. She swam to Maaret.
“You are good,” she said. “I would not harm you.”
But Maaret shrank away. “You take my Og.”
“I do not want your Og.”
We were all so relieved at the turn affairs had taken that we found ourselves smiling.
“She is your friend, Maaret,” I said. “She loves me—she is my woman—and Boy is our son. She does not want your Og. She wants only to get back to Rax with me. She wants never to see Og again.”
The girl nodded, only half convinced. Indeed, I suppose her attitude toward Nona was only natural.
“Come,” Maaret urged. “At any moment it will be too late.”
We followed her reluctantly. At our approach the black fishes surged upon us. But Maaret held them in check. They obeyed her low-toned but stern commands. Yet they seemed to sense that something was wrong. Two or three of them dashed at me threateningly. Their low rumbling voices were like the snarls of an enraged dog. In panic, I kicked at them. Then Maaret’s command called them off.
We were all in the passageway, in the very midst of the fishes. A side doorway was there—a doorway into a large cage of water. The doorway was barred by a grating. Maaret removed it and began herding the fishes into the cage. They were all in but the last three or four, when abruptly we heard Og’s voice from out of the dimness along the passageway! His voice—shouting with surprise and anger. And his figure appeared, plunging at us!
Caan shouted an admonition which none of us heeded. Atar dove for Og. I was vaguely aware that Maaret with presence of mind had jammed back the grating into place, locking all but three of the fishes in the cage. I heard her low cry of dismay. Og seemed not to have seen her, and she sank into a shadow by the wall—out of sight.
Then Nona’s voice urged me forward. Og and Atar were grappling with each other. Og rasped out an order; and the three black fishes rushed for Caan and me. I struck at one, to keep it away from Nona. The needle teeth of another sank into my leg, and clung. With my bare hands I reached down and gripped the thing by the body. Its black skin was slimy; its teeth in the flesh of my calf were like fire.
Caan, Atar and Og were shouting. The noise would bring help for Og!
“Quiet!” I called. I tried to lunge forward with that thing still clinging to my leg.
Atar and Caan fell silent. But Og’s voice rose higher than ever. I did not know exactly what was going on; the water over there was in a turmoil.
Nona was beside me. Her fingers were feeling of the black fish, trying to help me tear it loose. Then I found its jaws; pulled them apart. It lunged away from me. I swung up into the water and looked about.
Atar and Og were still fighting. Caan had shocked two of the fishes into insensibility. Old as he was, he still possessed sufficient power to stun them. The third fish—the one I had repulsed—made for him. I left Nona and dove forward toward Og and Atar. They were circling each other, both trying to get into position to give the electric shock.
Then, from out of the shadows beside them, a figure appeared, lurking there silently. Maaret! I had forgotten her.
Og suddenly gripped Atar by the ankles. I saw that he had Atar almost in the fatal position to receive the shock. But I was too far away to stop it.
I called a warning. But Atar seemed confused. And then I saw Maaret slide silently forward. She kept behind Og, where he could not see her. In her hand she held something white—a heavy shell, or something of the kind. It swung through the water, struck Og on the head. He relaxed from Atar; his unconscious body sank to the floor of the passageway.
Caan had by now disposed of the other fish. Atar joined us, panting from his exertions. We were all free to escape.
“Come!” exclaimed Caan. “The cave will be aroused! We must hurry.”
Maaret was crouching over Og’s stunned body. Her arms were around him; she was crying softly.
“Go!” she said angrily. And ignoring us, she fell to caressing Og. Frightened at what she had done, she was begging him to open his eyes—speak to her—tell her he was not badly hurt.
We hastened away. It was not far to the cave. We dashed into it, recklessly. It was more dimly lighted than when we had last seen it. The main floor was empty. There were family groups in most of the wall niches. Many of them were still asleep. Others, awakened, were looking sleepily about for the cause of the distant disturbance.
We dashed without pause up into the cave. The familiar ledge and tunnel-mouth were easy to locate. The Maagogs saw us. An uproar arose. But before any concerted effort to stop us could be made, we were up across the cave, over the ledge and into the tunnel.
“Safe!” exclaimed Atar. “Hurry!”
There were shouts behind us. But—without Og and the black fishes—we did not fear any of the Maagogs who might try and follow us.
We were soon through the coral barrier. Another few moments and we were at the main tunnel-mouth. The open Water of Wild Things stretched above us. For a moment we hesitated, looking cautiously up there. But no monsters were in sight.
“Soon we will be in Rax,” I murmured exultantly to Nona. And her loving arms went around me.
Caan was looking back down the passageway. “Nemo, you hear that?”
Our blood ran cold. In the distance, back toward the cave, we could hear those horrible yelping cries! Og had recovered! He had let loose the black fishes upon our trail! They could outswim us. We could not hide from them. And this time when they caught us, Og would not call them off!
There was nothing to do but try and get across the Water of Wild Things before we were overtaken. The way before us was open. Every second we hesitated made our chances less.
We plunged up into the black void. Swimming in couples, Nona and I followed Caan and Atar. They led us close along the sea-bottom. Coming in, Caan had been careful to remark the lay of the bottom so that he could find his way back.
We swam fast, too fast for talking save an occasional monosyllable. Behind us we could hear the cries of our pursuers. Growing louder, steadily, but slowly. It was a stern chase, and if we could hold our present speed—a long chase.
On we swept, just above the sea-bottom. Occasionally giant crabs would scuttle away from us, alarmed by our swift movement. To the sides, lights sometimes showed—the lighted heads of monsters. But none came near us. A thing all spines drifted past; but it did not molest us. A giant clam, larger far than any one of us, was lying on the sea-bottom in our path. It opened its shells as though hungrily to suck us in, but we avoided it. We came at last to the side wall of the black void of water—the wall alongside of which we had descended. Up there, a few thousand feet, lay the entrance to the Marinoid domain. If we could get into that entrance—into the coral forest before the black fishes caught us. . . .
We swam upward, along the line of wall, a few hundred feet off. Directly beneath us now, following every twist of our trail, the pursuing fishes were yelping. They were much closer. And Nona was tiring! It was the longest, most sustained fast swimming she or I had ever attempted. Atar and Caan were drawing away from us. They did not realize it, and I did not call to them. Perhaps, if we two gave out, they could go on and save themselves.
Then Caan looked back. They slackened their pace and we caught up with them.
“Go—on,” I panted.
But they would not go faster than we could go. And we all knew that very soon now we would be caught.
We were perhaps two thirds the way up the wall when suddenly Caan and Atar swung sharply out to one side. Nona and I followed, as one fish follows the turns and twists of another. I looked to see what was wrong. Overhead, directly in our former path, loomed the black, unlighted bulk of a giant monster, huge and fearsome beyond anything we had ever before encountered!
CHAPTER XXIII
We had no time to decide what we should do. The monster saw us. Beneath us—almost in sight now—the black fishes were mounting. And further below them—dim and muffled in the distance—we heard Og’s voice shouting a shrill command to urge them on.
We darted out sidewise, away from the wall. Atar was leading, and single-file, we others followed. Then Atar turned suddenly and doubled back upon himself. Strung out in a line, we turned with him. Making straight for the jagged cliff-face, we passed close under the monster, between it and the mounting black fishes.
The monster was slow, ponderous in its movements. It was coming down, and as we darted under it I stared up and saw it plainly. A gigantic black thing. A spherical head, twenty feet broad; a thick, elongated body—a hundred feet or more in length. There were no fins, and no tail. The head had two great protruding eyes, gleaming green, and beneath them a circular mouth—a mouth which even undistended was large enough to suck in our bodies. And around the head, fastened to it—framing the face—were a dozen arms! They were waving tentacles with a sucker disk at the end of some, and a hook at the end of others.
A squid! you perhaps explain. It was, indeed, fashioned somewhat after the plan of the squid of your earthly waters. Let me call it then, a squid. It came down ponderously, waving its tentacles and floundering with its unwieldy body.
Avoiding it, we struck the cliff-face. A depression was there—a sort of ledge. On it we huddled, panting; Nona and I were almost exhausted.
“We must go on!” Caan whispered. “The black fishes—they will find us. And that giant thing—it can suck us up—”
But Atar silenced him. Atar knew what he was doing. And most of all, this momentary inactivity was allowing Nona and me to rest. We could not have gone much further in any event.
The giant squid had swung awkwardly to follow us. Then evidently it heard the yelps of the uprushing fishes. It hesitated, turned downward; it was below us, and out from the wall, but still in plain sight; and we saw the black fishes sweep up to attack it.
On every side the monster was assailed. There must have been two hundred or more of those ugly, squat little things. The bulk of the squid dwarfed them into insignificance; but like bull terriers worrying a prostrate elephant, they tore at it.
The squid floundered. Its lashing tentacles hooked the fishes and flung them away. Its mouth sucked them in and swallowed them. But scores of the fishes gripped the tentacles and clung; others bit and tore at the soft, puffy flesh; still others swarmed at the monster’s protruding eyes, gouging them. . . .
The squid was in distress. It pulled itself to the wall below us and clung with its suckers. Then it let go, and ejecting a great stream of water from its mouth, forced itself swiftly backward. But the swarm of fishes still tore at it. One of its eyes went out. Its lacerated flesh gave a stench to the water that sickened us. . . .
Caan was plucking at me. “We must go—now while we have the chance. Og may call his fishes—set them on us—”
Where was Og? I had forgotten him. He had fled, doubtless. Then we heard his voice. He was hovering off in the open water; we heard him screaming angrily to the fishes, trying to call them off the squid—to set them again on our trail.
We started upward, close to the cliff-face. Og would not see us perhaps.
“Faster!” urged Caan. “We swim like children.”
Atar again led us in single file. I was last, swimming just after Nona. I turned to look downward. The squid was lashing the water in desperate fury. The fishes, many of them, were floating downward—inert. But many others, ignoring Og’s commands in their lust for blood, were still attacking. I saw Og now, well off to one side. A dozen or so of the fishes were gathered around him.
The water down there by the squid was lashed white. It caught what light there was and I could see everything plainly. Then, as the squid rolled over with a last despairing effort, I saw a great stream of inky black fluid issue from it. The ink spread. Everything turned to blackness. The squid, as a last desperate measure, had emptied its inkbag and under cover of the darkness was trying to escape. The water down there was a bowl of ink, out of which came the snarls of the fishes, and Og’s shrill voice shouting commands.
We mounted swiftly, for Nona and I were refreshed by our brief rest. Soon we were within sight of the horizontal slit in the cliff—the entrance to home! But again beneath us, we heard Og’s shouts and the deep-throated cries. They were after us.
Atar, leading us, abruptly stopped. My heart leaped to my throat. Was it another monster ahead? It was something. There was something sweeping toward us! Not slowly, ponderously this time—but swift almost as a thrown spear! From up near the horizontal passage we saw it coming—small, a dim blob at first, with a little V-shaped white wake behind it. Larger, closer—a few seconds only, while we huddled together, wholly confused.
Turning in an arc, this new thing swept at us—slowed down its flight, and stopped beside us. We shouted with the relief of hysteria. It was our Marinoid King—Atar’s father—alone in his sleigh, driving his dolphin-like animal which could pull it faster than any of us could swim.
We were safe!
Into the sleigh we climbed. Nona sat in the seat beside the king. Og and his black fishes were approaching; but we were away, gliding through the water with a speed that soon outdistanced them.
The sleigh itself was constructed to be slightly heavier than water, so that it could glide along the sea-bottom. But now it was buoyed by tiny air-pods fastened to it, so that of itself it would neither float nor sink. We started away after no more than the briefest of greetings with our king. We three men clung to the rim of the sleigh behind. Its rapid motion threw our bodies out horizontally, like men clinging to the tail of a speeding airplane in the rush of air.
Never before had I moved through water so fast. It roared in my ears, blurred my sight, and choked me. Dimly I saw the passageway speeding past beside us. We were paralleling it; not entering, but heading for its further end.
Then we seemed to go still faster. I coughed, choked. The press of water against my mouth stifled my breathing. My lungs were full and I could not exhale. I heard Atar’s voice—a shout: “Nemo—your arm—put it—before your face! You—”
The rushing water tore away his words. But I understood. I clung with my right hand to the sleigh; with my left arm crooked before my face, in the back-eddy of water behind it, I breathed again. And then I saw that all the others were doing the same. Had I not done it, I should have been drowned—asyouperhaps have choked a fish to death by towing it rapidly through water.
We dashed onward, with the water roaring past. Then in a gentle arc we swung to the left and slackened to normal swimming speed. A mud-ooze floor was close under us; a ceiling came down overhead. We were in the slit, headed for the coral forest. The coral barrier! I gasped as I thought of it. How had the King come through that barrier with his sleigh?
I was now crouching, clinging to the sleigh at Nona’s side. I asked the question, but no one heard me. They were all talking.
The King had an arm about my Nona, paternally, affectionately. “I am glad you are safely returned, my child.”
Atar was asking: “My father—what made you come for us?”
The King answered very gravely: “Your mother—she was worried, Atar.” His eyes were laughing. “I had to slip away, unseen in the Time of Sleep. Our people would not like their monarch dashing off alone to possible danger. But though I am an old man, there is lust for fighting in me yet.”
Then I made my question heard. The King sobered instantly.
“Much is coming to pass in Rax—strange things I learn every hour—and all of danger to us and our people.”
He told us then that upon the heels of our own departure into the Water of Wild Things (it had been two eating times before, as I well knew by the hunger which possessed me) the Marinoid guards had noticed an open swathe cut through the coral forest. They found it, and reported it to the King—a thirty-foot-wide lane. Evidently it had been recently done by the Maagogs. In our own hasty search for an entrance, we three had overlooked it.
The King, hearing that, had decided to drive a short distance in to the Water of Wild Things and look for our return.
As he spoke, our sleigh reached the coral forest. We passed along it a short distance, and arrived at a grating thirty feet square. The situation was now plain to us, and hastily we told the King what we had learned from the Maagogs. Og, sure of the coming war and his own leadership, was preparing to strike at once. He had this lane cut through the coral to give free passage to his Maagog army in its attack on Rax. This grating Og had put there to keep the monsters from wandering into Marinoid waters. He was going to conquer those waters—and he wanted no monsters there to harass the future of the victorious Maagogs.
The grating was easily removable. The King had swung it aside to get his sleigh past; and we swung it now, to return. Soon we were speeding out across the cool, sweet Marinoid waters. They were dim with twilight. Peaceful, beautiful, a Garden of Paradise to us, returning now from that foul Water of Wild Things.
It was still the Time of Sleep in Rax when we arrived. Quietly, unobtrusively, we slipped unnoticed into the city.
And Nona was again with Boy! The joy of it! I am a mere man; I cannot describe—I know I cannot even appreciate—how my Nona felt to hold Boy again to her breast; to feel his baby arms about her neck; to hear his gleeful, welcoming cries. Only a mother can understand; and I, a man, could but stand and watch, and wonder.