The Metal Monster Page 18

  CHAPTER XVII. YURUK

  "Yuruk," I whispered, "you love us as the wheat field loves the hail;we are as welcome to you as the death cord to the condemned. Lo, a dooropened into a land of unpleasant dreams you thought sealed, and we camethrough. Answer my questions truthfully and it may be that we shallreturn through that door."

  Interest welled up in the depths of the black eyes.

  "There is a way from here," he muttered. "Nor does it passthrough--Them. I can show it to you."

  I had not been blind to the flash of malice, of cunning, that had shotacross the wrinkled face.

  "Where does that way lead?" I asked. "There were those who sought us;men clad in armor with javelins and arrows. Does your way lead to them,Yuruk?"

  For a time he hesitated, the lashless lids half closed.

  "Yes," he said sullenly. "The way leads to them; to their place. Butwill it not be safer for you there--among your kind?"

  "I don't know that it will," I answered promptly. "Those who are unlikeus smote those who are like us and drove them back when they would havetaken and slain us. Why is it not better to remain with them than to goto our kind who would destroy us?"

  "They would not," he said "If you gave them--her." He thrust a longthumb backward toward sleeping Ruth. "Cherkis would forgive much forher. And why should you not? She is only a woman."

  He spat--in a way that made me want to kill him.

  "Besides," he ended, "have you no arts to amuse him?"

  "Cherkis?" I asked.

  "Cherkis," he whined. "Is Yuruk a fool not to know that in the worldwithout, new things have arisen since long ago we fled from Iskanderinto the secret valley? What have you to beguile Cherkis beyond thiswoman flesh? Much, I think. Go then to him--unafraid."

  Cherkis? There was a familiar sound to that. Cherkis? Of course--itwas the name of Xerxes, the Persian Conqueror, corrupted by time intothis--Cherkis. And Iskander? Equally, of course--Alexander. Ventnor hadbeen right.

  "Yuruk," I demanded directly, "is she whom you call goddess--Norhala--ofthe people of Cherkis?"

  "Long ago," he answered; "long, long ago there was trouble in theircity, even in the great dwelling place of Cherkis. I fled with her whowas the mother of the goddess. There were twenty of us; and we fledhere--by the way which I will show you--"

  He leered cunningly; I gave no sign of interest.

  "She who was the mother of the goddess found favor in the sight of theruler here," he went on. "But after a time she grew old and ugly andwithered. So he slew her--like a little mound of dust she danced andblew away after he had slain her; and also he slew others who had growndispleasing to him. He blasted me--as he was blasted--" He pointed toVentnor.

  "Then it was that, recovering, I found my crooked shoulder. The goddesswas born here. She is kin to Him Who Rules! How else could she shed thelightnings? Was not the father of Iskander the god Zeus Ammon, who cameto Iskander's mother in the form of a great snake? Well? At any rate thegoddess was born--shedder of the lightnings even from her birth. And sheis as you see her.

  "Cleave to your kind! Cleave to your kind!" Suddenly he shrilled."Better is it to be whipped by your brother than to be eaten by thetiger. Cleave to your kind. Look--I will show you the way to them."

  He sprang to his feet, clasped my wrist in one of his long hands, ledme through the curtained oval into the cylindrical hall, parted thecurtainings of Norhala's bedroom and pushed me within. Over the floor heslid, still holding fast to me, and pressed against the farther wall.

  An ovoid slice of the gemlike material slid aside, revealing a doorway.I glimpsed a path, a trail, leading into a forest pallid green beneaththe wan light. This way thrust itself like a black tongue into theboskage and vanished in the depths.

  "Follow it." He pointed. "Take those who came with you and follow it."

  The wrinkles upon his face writhed with his eagerness.

  "You will go?" panted Yuruk. "You will take them and go by that path?"

  "Not yet," I answered absently. "Not yet."

  And was brought abruptly to full alertness, vigilance, by the flame ofrage that filled the eyes thrust so close.

  "Lead back," I directed curtly. He slid the door into place, turnedsullenly. I followed, wondering what were the sources of the bitterhatred he so plainly bore for us; the reasons for his eagerness to berid of us despite the commands of this woman who to him at least wasgoddess.

  And by that curious human habit of seeking for the complex when thesimple answer lies close, failed to recognize that it was jealousy ofus that was the root of his behavior; that he wished to be, as it wouldseem he had been for years, the only human thing near Norhala; failedto realize this, and with Ruth and Drake was terribly to pay for thisfailure.

  I looked down upon the pair, sleeping soundly; upon Ventnor lost stillin trance.

  "Sit," I ordered the eunuch. "And turn your back to me."

  I dropped down beside Drake, my mind wrestling with the mystery, butevery sense alert for movement from the black. Glibly enough I hadpassed over Dick's questioning as to the consciousness of the MetalPeople; now I faced it knowing it to be the very crux of theseincredible phenomena; admitting, too, that despite all my specialpleading, about that point swirled in my own mind the thickest mists ofuncertainty. That their sense of order was immensely beyond a man's wasplain.

  As plain was it that their knowledge of magnetic force and itsmanipulation were far beyond the sphere of humanity. That they hadrealization of beauty this palace of Norhala's proved--and no humanimagination could have conceived it nor human hands have made itsthought of beauty real. What were their senses through which theirconsciousness fed?

  Nine in number had been the sapphire ovals set within the golden zone ofthe Disk. Clearly it came to me that these were sense organs!

  But--nine senses!

  And the great stars--how many had they? And the cubes--did they open asdid globe and pyramid?

  Consciousness itself--after all what is it? A secretion of the brain?The cumulative expression, wholly chemical, of the multitudes of cellsthat form us? The inexplicable governor of the city of the body of whichthese myriads of cells are the citizens--and created by them out ofthemselves to rule?

  Is it what many call the soul? Or is it a finer form of matter, aself-realizing force, which uses the body as its vehicle just as otherforces use for their vestments other machines? After all, I thought,what is this conscious self of ours, the ego, but a spark of realizationrunning continuously along the path of time within the mechanism we callthe brain; making contact along that path as the electric spark at theend of a wire?

  Is there a sea of this conscious force which laps the shores of thefarthest-flung stars; that finds expression in everything--man and rock,metal and flower, jewel and cloud? Limited in its expression only by thelimitations of that which animates, and in essence the same in all. Ifso, then this problem of the life of the Metal People ceased to be aproblem; was answered!

  So thinking I became aware of increasing light; strode past Yuruk tothe door and peeped out. Dawn was paling the sky. I stooped over Drake,shook him. On the instant he was awake, alert.

  "I only need a little sleep, Dick," I said. "When the sun is well up,call me."

  "Why, it's dawn," he whispered. "Goodwin, you ought not to have let mesleep so long. I feel like a damned pig."

  "Never mind," I said. "But watch the eunuch closely."

  I rolled myself up in his warm blanket; sank almost instantly intodreamless slumber.