The world below
“The javelins are not dangerous to you at present, as they turn in the
air when thrown, and the window bars are too narrow for them to pass.
“There is no guard here now, and the bat-winged victims are greatly
excited by the hope of escape, but they appear to have no means of
releasing themselves.... I think the arrows are ended.”
We thought so too, for they had now ceased to enter. If our enemies
hoped or supposed that we had been disabled, they must advance to
investigate, and I had the sense of relief which comes when you can at
last strike back, after being exposed to an attack which there is no
means of resisting. I had a moment’s inclination to unbar the door, and
rush out upon them when they pushed it open, with such axe-blows as
might scatter them, and win our freedom at a moment.
I had the thought that if the archers could be cut down, the rest would
be panic-stricken to see it, and that without their bows they might not
be very formidable, but the recollection of the strangling-cords was
enough to check this impulse effectually.
Then I thought that if they expected that they had killed us, they would
not suppose that the door had been unbarred, and how would they
endeavour to enter?
The light had increased now, so that the whole extent of the hall was
visible. It showed nothing that we had not already seen or imagined,
except that in the roof there were slits of an oblong shape, and of a
regular occurrence, and over the sides of these we saw the heads of
small lizard-like creatures protruding--bright yellow, snout-like heads,
with small emerald eyes, that watched us fearfully, but with an
impression of malevolence, and of an intelligence that gave me a feeling
of actual discomfort as I gazed, so that I looked elsewhere, and then
remembered how an animal will turn uneasily from a man’s eyes, and was
ashamed, and looked back, and found my gaze was reluctant.
My comrade followed my thought, and surveyed them with her usual
coolness. “They are more intelligent than the Killers, of whom they are
not afraid. The Killers serve them. They must have built that roof for
their dwelling. They fear us, and therefore hate us. It might be well if
you sent an arrow to frighten them.”
But as the thought came, the yellow heads shot back, and the openings
were quiet and vacant.
“I thought so,” she smiled, “they can read our thoughts, while they
watch us. They are dangerous and might do us mischief, but I think the
Killers are too stupid to use them.”
Meanwhile, I had again secured the bow, which I had used the night
before with such unmerited success.
When I had drawn it once or twice, and felt that I could control it to
some purpose, though it was almost beyond my strength to handle, I
stepped to one of the windows on a sudden impulse, and saw the ground
before me was pink with advancing Killers. Swiftly and silently they
came, having appeared again from the side which had hidden them from the
sight of our Leader. There was no whistling from the suckers, but they
were waving them from right to left, and tossing them in the air in
their excitement, as does an elephant when he trumpets. Many of them had
the red-stemmed javelins. All had their strangling-cords in readiness.
The archers moved beside them, one on each flank, bow in hand, but I saw
that there were no arrows on the strings.
There was no need to aim. I bent the bow to my strength’s limit, and
sent the long shaft into the hideous crowd that confronted me. I think
that it might only have dented the slimy bladder-like skin of the first
it struck, without puncturing it, had it been able to throw him back
without striking any solid substance behind him, but--perhaps because
they were advancing so closely--it went through him and two others
before it spent its force, and left them heaped and squealing. In a
moment the whistling cries arose to a point which I cannot hope to tell,
for I lack words for any possible comparison. Right and left ran the
Killers, the archers first in flight, and in a few seconds were beyond
my range and seeing, beneath the side walls of the arsenal that was at
once our jail and our safety.
My comrade, looking from the other window, gazed at the stricken,
struggling heap with eyes that danced in triumph. Her age-long wandering
in the ocean ways had familiarised her to death and cruelty in a hundred
forms. Her repugnance had been to doing things herself which she
regarded as natural only to a lower order of creation. I suppose in all
her life she had never knowingly done harm to any sentient thing. But
she loved adventure as a child loves it.
Then her eyes clouded to an instant’s blankness, and turned to me again,
and this was the thought she gave.
“My Leader says, ‘Tell that animal not to shoot again, and if it does
so, leave it entirely. We are not Killers, nor do we practise their
ways. Besides, it may cause trouble with the Dwellers, of which we have
prepared sufficient already.’”
I answered in anger at such perversity. “Tell her that if she is not a
Killer, neither am I an Amphibian, and I shall play this game in my own
way.”
“But she is a Leader----”
“She is not mine. Tell her I have the authority of five Leaders, and she
had better do as she is told herself.”
“She says that she has already loosed a bar from the floor, and is
coming herself to take direction.”
“Tell her that if we open the door to let her in we shall have to keep
it open, and how then shall we resist them? If we close it, who will be
left outside to open it, when we are ready? Tell her to stay where she
is.”
“Be quiet, please. She has dived in the boiling tank. We must not divert
her mind. She dare not look nor breathe. Now she has reached the outer
tank. It is worse than she expected, and she is very nearly exhausted.
She has risen to the surface and is looking through the steam for a
place to land. There are Killers on that side. She will dive again, and
swim under the killing-sheds so that she may reach the farther side
before they can run round. You must help her with such will as you have.
She has risen. But it is too soon. There’s a floor above her head, in
the water. She is swimming on. She has struck something under water. It
is one of the boiling bodies. It is a Frog-mouth. It is not quite dead.
It has seized her with its teeth. Now she has willed herself free. She
has risen to the surface. She can breathe, but she can only swim very
slowly. She is exhausted, and she is holding one arm out of the water.
It has been burnt by the water where she was bitten. She is at the edge
now, but the Killers are there also. There are only three yet, and their
wills are not strong enough to resist her. They are confused and
frightened in mind. One has tried to push her back, striking with a
javelin. She has caught it in her hand. He has fallen into the water. I
have not heard one of them squeal quite like that before. She has pulled
him out again, but he is still squealing. I think he will die. More
Killers are coming. She is running here. She says, ‘Have the door
unbarred.’”
I lifted the bars down, though I was far from sure of the wisdom of
opening. Then I went to the window. She was already in view, running at
a great pace, but with an ease and coolness that gave no impression of
being hunted, but rather of one who constrained others to follow. I
cannot easily convey the feeling that came to my mind as I watched her.
They were too far behind to throw to any good purpose.
But round the side of the building from which I watched came another
crowd, forgetful of arrows in their excitement, and were between her and
the door in a moment.
“She says, do not shoot. She will draw them off, and then return to the
door, and I must be ready to run out with her. They will then try to cut
us off from the gate, but we shall make for the cliff behind, and climb
it, and go to meet our companions. She says I can bring you if I will,
and if you can climb.”
I answered, “I cannot climb that cliff. No man could.”
“She says, we must go that way. It is necessary. The animals can go on
killing each other if they will. She will have none of it.”
I said, “Tell her I did not come here for my own pleasure, but to help
her. If she does not need my help she can go her own way, and you can
choose for yourself also. I am not going to lose the chance of giving
these brutes another lesson.”
All these thoughts exchanged in less time than it will take to read
them, and even while my comrade answered, with a troubled mind, “She is
a Leader. She will do right. Do not shoot.” I had already sent a shaft
among them which found its victim, and this I followed with another
which went weakly astray as they turned and fled to safety.
The Amphibian, who had first taken a sideward leap to avoid their rush,
was already moving away to draw them off the door, but seeing the effect
of my shot she ran swiftly forward and pushed it open, and entered.
She stood there, holding the door open with her right hand--the left
arm, which had been bitten and then scalded in the water, hanging
loosely beside her--with a quiet dignity, which I could not but respect,
however much I might resent her attitude to myself. She did not turn her
eyes to me, nor give me a thought--she never did this from first to
last--and I was conscious that there was no anger in her mind. I was too
far beneath her.
She looked at the inside of the door for a moment, and then I was aware
that their minds were in contact. Thought is swift, but it seemed a long
time that we stood there. I was conscious that my comrade was fighting
for her own will, and was, in a way, defying her Leader, if defiance it
could be called, where I knew that both minds retained their poise and
coolness, and the one that heard was both aloof and judicial.
At last she asked me, “Are you content that I go with her, and can you
escape by the way we came?”
I replied, “You must make your own choice,” and closed my mind very
quickly. I was angered at the course that events had taken, and in no
mood to let her know that I was at an extremity of exhaustion. As I drew
the bow the second time I knew that it was my own giddiness that made
the shaft go wrong. I was standing upright with difficulty, and knew
that if we separated there was not one chance in a thousand that I
should escape the handling of those nauseous suckers.
Her mind fought for a moment to pierce the blankness with which I met
it. Then it recognised its failure. “Wait,” she answered. “I have a
thought,” and again she turned to her Leader, and a longer silence
followed.
At last she turned to me, and relief of some kind gave light to the
serenity of her eyes. “She goes. I stay with you. How long depends on
yourself. But it is a condition that I must not explain.”
I was so gladdened by this decision that I was disposed to be generous.
“I am very glad,” I answered, “unless it will expose you to greater
danger than you would otherwise meet. But I hope I have not been the
cause of any difference between you and your Leader, who so plainly
dislikes me.”
She answered coldly, “I am in no danger that I fear to meet. We are not
animals such as you are. Nor do we differ among ourselves. Our Leaders
are always right.”
As she gave me this thought, her Leader looked at me for the first time.
I thought there was inquiry in her glance, but it passed me dumbly. She
threw a thought to my companion, “You should watch the floor,” and
turned and went out, and the door closed behind her, with the click
which had sounded so ominously in the night when I first heard it.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE FIGHT IN THE ARSENAL
When the door closed I was very glad to sit down with my back against