Drome/Chapter 33

by John Martin Leahy

Chapter 33

Face to Face

We pound the wall even more broken and savage than it had appeared from the entrance. It was almost destitute of vegetation, a circumstance that contributed not a little to the difficulties of the descent. Indeed, making our way down over those pitching naked rocks was a ticklish, unpleasant business, I want to tell you—at times really precarious.

We had halted to rest above one of these difficult spots, and everyone was either seated or leaning against the rock, when of a sudden Milton, who was nearest the edge, arose and pointed, pointed down and off to the right.

"Hello!" said he. "What's that?"

All of us arose, moved forward and looked.

"Where?" I asked.

"Down there by that strange clump of sycadaceous trees. But 'tis gone now."

"What was it?"

"I haven't the faintest idea, Bill. But there was something there, something moving. And, if I were imaginative, I would probably say that it was watching us, that, the moment I arose and pointed, it glided back to the concealment of the trees."

"Well, did it?"

"It certainly seemed to do so, Bill."

I peered down there again, but I could not see anything moving. There was silence for some moments. The Dromans stood watching, waiting; stood expectant, puzzled.

"Oh, well," Rhodes said, turning a quizzical look in my direction and then to the face of Drorathusa, "we must expect to find live things in that forest."

I saw Drorathusa's eyes fixed upon his face, then, a few moments after he ceased speaking, return to the clump of cycads.

"Live things?" said I. "There may be things in this place of mystery more terrible than any live thing."

"Come, Bill, come. It can't be so bad as you think it, or our Dromans wouldn't be here. I wish," he added, "I knew what that thing is that I saw."

"Hello!" I cried the next moment, my look raised up to the vaulted roof, "what does that mean? Good heaven, what next?"

The light, which was brightest up along the roof—in fact, it seemed pressed up against the rock canopy like glowing, diaphanous mist—was changing, fading. The wonderful opalescence of it was disappearing before our eyes.

Of a sudden the spot where we stood was involved in a gloom strange, indescribable, unearthly. Up above, the light-mist was quivering and flickering, pale and dreadful.

"What on earth is it?" I said.

"Queer place, this!" said Milton Rhodes.

"What can it mean?"

He did not answer. He sent a questioning look toward Drorathusa and her companions. Mine followed. The faces of the Dromans seemed to glimmer ghostlike in the thickening, awful darkness. Upon those pale features, however, was no discoverable sign of alarm, uneasiness even.

The gloom deepened. Pitchy darkness came down with a rush. Far away, and up along the roof, there were pale flickerings and flashes. Then the light burst out, so sudden and so strong that pain shot through the eyes.

Came a cry, and I turned to see Drorathusa pointing, pointing down toward the cycads.

"There it is, Bill!" said Mil ton. "There it is again! See it moving?"

I saw it but for a fleeting moment only. And, I thought, I saw something else.

"Nearer this time," Rhodes told me.

"It is moving over," I said, "to lie in wait for us. And, unless I'm much deceived, it isn't alone."

"Hum," said Rhodes. "Queer place, Bill, to go into. Our Hypogeans don't seem to know what to make of this apparition."

They were conversing in low tones, casting searching, apprehensive looks along the ragged margin of the forest.

The gloom was falling again. Denser and denser it grew about us. Fainter, more and more dreadful became those distant flickerings. The stillness was utter, terrible. There was not the gentlest movement of air. The light gave a last faint, angry gleam and went out altogether.

Abruptly, from out of the darkness, a voice came sounding, and, though I knew that the voice was Drorathusa's, I started violently and almost gave a cry. I pressed the button, and the rays of the lamp flashed out, lighting up the spot and showing the tall figure of Drorathusa with arms extended upward in some mystic invocation. The others were kneeling, and the words that Drorathusa spoke were echoed, as it were, in their low responsive voices. It was a strange scene—the dark, savage masses of rock, the tall Sibylline figure of the woman, the kneeling forms of the others and we two men from the sunlit world looking on in wonder and in awe.

Minutes passed. The wondrous, eery voice of Drorathusa never ceased, though there were moments when those echoing voices were silent.

Look! Far away, there was a faint, ghostly flicker. Another and another. Brighter they became and brighter still, at last opalescent; soon rocks and forest, the whole weird landscape was again bathed in the mystic pearly light.

"What in the world," I said, "was it?"

"An eclipse," smiled Rhodes. "Queer place, this."

"Queer place? Can't you hit another tune? You don't have to keep telling me that this is a queer place. I am not likely to forget that fact. And I wonder if these 'eclipses' are a frequent phenomenon. Certainly I hope that they arc not."

"I wish that I could tell you, Bill."

"And," I added, "that forest, when the light goes, must be a queer place truly—gosh, I'm catching it from you! But I'll tell you what: I wouldn't like to find myself, in the depths of those woods, face to face with a loopmuke or a gogrugron or something and in that instant have the darkness come down."

"It would be rather unpleasant, I fancy. But unfortunately our likes or our dislikes are not likely to alter in any way the scheme of things."

The Dromans, all standing now, were singing a low and sweet song of thanksgiving and gladness. Yes, so sweet were the tones that they seemed to linger in the air, for some moments, even after the song had ceased.

We east our looks along the margin of the forest, but not a single glimpse was caught of that mysterious object, or objects, that we had seen moving down there.

It was patent that the Dromans knew no more what to make of that apparition than we did ourselves and that they looked forward with no little apprehension to our entry into those trees.

The descent was resumed. Were eyes, somewhere below, watching our every movement? I feared that it was indeed so, and, as I well knew, every other member of our little band feared it, too. There was nothing, however, that we could do except descend and face the issue. To turn aside would be futile, for the watcher, or the watchers, would turn aside also to meet us.

Ere long we reached the talus, and our troubles were then over—that is, as regards the descent. But heaven only knew what troubles were awaiting us somewhere in that forest, to which we were now drawing so very near. As we made our way down over the reek-fragments, amidst which shrubs and stunted trees were growing, more than once did we pause and send keen, searching looks and glances into the silent recesses of that mysterious wood. Some of those sylvan depths were enshadowed, gloomy; others were pervaded with the strong, transparent light-mist—the objects involved in which cast no shadows.

At the foot of the talus, almost beneath the branches of the great palm-trees, there was a pause.

"Now for it!" said Rhodes solemnly.

The Dromans were clustered together in earnest but laconic dialogue, their eyes employed the while in a keen scrutiny of the forest aisles and recesses, before us and on either hand.

Insects were in the air about us; one or two shadowy butterflies flitted past; and that was all. Not a leaf stirred; the air was without the slightest movement. No song, no call of a bird broke the silence, which seemed to press dowm upon us and about us as though it were a tangible thing. It was as if the spot, the forest itself had never known either the voice or the movement of. any sentient thing. But, somewhere in that forest, hidden and close at hand, there was something sentient—something, in all likelihood, watching us, watching us and waiting. Waiting for what? Or, came the sudden thought, even now it was stealing toward the place where we stood.

"This suspense," said I to myself, "is simply awful—as terrible even as that we knew when moving across the bridge."

Drorathusa turned to us and pointed in a rather vague direction out into the trees.

"Narranawnzee," she said.

"They plan to strike that stream," said Milton.

"I pray heaven," I told him, "that we live to see it."

Whereupon Rhodes laughed outright—the effect of the sudden sound curious and startling, so great was the tension of our nerves.

"One would think, Gloomy Face," said he, "that you had just issued from the Cave of Trophonius. 'And he never smiled again.'"

"I have an idea, grinning Shaky Knees," I retorted, "that we have got ourselves into a place more awful than any Cave of Trophonius. I don't blink, that's all."

"Nor, Bill, do I," said Milton soberly. "You know, I'd feel more at ease if it wasn't for the presence of the ladies. Why did they come on a journey so hazardous and so terrible?"

How often had we wondered that! We didn't know the ladies of Drome.

We at once got in motion—Narkus and Rhodes in advance, Drorathusa just behind them, then Delphis and Siris, whilst Thumbra and I brought up the rear. This disposition of our little party was as Drorathusa herself had desired it, and she had been at some pains to impress upon Rhodes and me (though there was no necessity for that) the expediency of keeping our weapons ready at any instant for action.

On we went, deeper and deeper into the wood. Strange forms of tropical vegetation, strange flowers and insects were everywhere. How interesting we should have found the place! But there was that thing, somewhere hidden, watching us perhaps—following.

Came a sharp exclamation, a dull sound from above; but it was only a bird, a thing of silver and gold, launching itself from off a branch of one of the trees which we were approaching. Away it went sailing, lovely as a vision from fairyland, and disappeared amongst the tree-trunks and foliage.

Five minutes or so passed. Another sound, an exclamation from Drorathusa, and the party came to a sudden halt.

Everyone had heard it—a clear, unmistakable but inexplicable sound, from behind. We were being followed!

We stood listening for some moments, waiting; but the sound did not come again. Save for the low, melancholy drone of insects, the spot was as silent as a tomb.

We resumed our advance, every sense on the alert. A few moments passed, and then we heard it. This time it was off to the right, almost abreast of us, it seemed.

We waited, but nothing was seen, nothing was heard.

We had advanced but twenty or thirty feet when a sudden gloom involved the forest. The scene on the instant turned weird, unearthly. This, however, was but for a few seconds; then came the light. The advance was at once resumed. But we had gone only a short distance when the gloom came once more, grew so dense that we had to come to a halt.

It lifted, just as I was on the point of switching on my light. Then like a bolt came utter darkness. And, even as the darkness fell, there was a velvety sound and a faint rustling from amongst the foliage beside us. With frantic haste I sought and pressed the light-switch. At the same instant Rhodes flashed on his light. A cry of horror broke from me. There, thrust over the top of a great log and but a few yards distant, was a long snaky head with a pair of great blazing eyes fixed upon me.

We were face to face at last!