The world below
As it was, I rose, and with my left hand--for my other arm was stiff at
the shoulder, and likely to be of little use to me for some time to
come--I picked up one of the javelins, to ascertain whether it were
suitable to the purpose for which my dream had used it.
For one-third of its length it was of metal, pointed and with double
knife-like edges, but the remainder was of a dark and very resinous
wood, such as would take fire readily. Here, at least, my dream had made
no error.
It seemed to me that, as my arm would be of little use for further
axe-work if they should attempt to rush us again, a fire, which could be
lighted safely on the stone floor beside the opening, would be our best
protection, as it could be instantly swept down upon them, and could
scarcely fail to be sufficiently disconcerting to give time for my
companion’s javelins to operate.
I was elated in mind that I should be able to demonstrate my practical
genius in this way, recalling in some wonder that I had as yet seen no
evidence of fire in all my wanderings, unless the heated water supplied
it. But I would say nothing until I had proved the success of my
project, and the fire was blazing.
I wondered for one foolish moment why I had dreamed that the fire was
lighted on the open ground, till I noticed that the sun, which was now
past its noon, was no longer visible from the windows, and that, within
the hall, the glass on which I relied would be useless. Here again, the
dream was wiser than my waking thought, and its reality impressed me
proportionately.
I told my companion that I would demonstrate a new method of fighting,
as my arm was useless, and I made a heap of javelins upon the very edge
of the pit, while she regarded my work with an observant curiosity.
Then, using the clasp-knife with the left hand as best I could, I
shredded some of the wooden shafts into such splinters as should take
fire very easily, and asking her to watch the hole for a moment, and
giving an assurance that I should not go far from the door, I opened it,
and stepped into the brighter light without.
The space around me was bare, as far as sight could reach it, except
that a group of Killers, probably the infirm and young, showed at the
far end of the enclosure, but I knew that there might come a rush of
them from round the side of the building at any moment, and very
watchfully therefore I arranged the splinters with the glass in the
midst of them. It was a very short time before a rising smoke changed
into the uncoloured flame of a noonday fire, and, picking up two or
three of the longer splinters by their outer ends, I went back into the
hall. My companion did not turn as I approached, but told me, “There is
something that has frightened the lizards. They have thrown themselves
from the roof into the pit beneath us. If they have read your mind, your
new way of fighting must be very terrible.” With the thought she looked
round, and her mind waked to a swift insistent protest--“_No! It is the
Forbidden Thing!_”--but at the same moment I had thrust the splinters
into the pile I had prepared to receive them.
For a few seconds our minds fought strenuously. “Do not let it burn. We
know little of the ways of the Dwellers, but all the world knows that.
It is the one thing they will not endure.” “I am not bound to the
Dwellers. To us it may be a weapon of safety.” “But I am; and to my
Leaders it would be unforgivable.” “We can keep a watch for the
Dwellers, and put it out if they approach.” “The mere knowledge that it
had been lit might destroy us all.” “The responsibility is mine only.”
“If I am with you I share it.” “It can be put out in a moment, if it be
scattered on the stones.” “I know nothing of that; but I know that for
many centuries it has not been seen on the surface of this
continent--not since it was used in the great war, before the barrier
had been planted.” “Do they use it under the surface for themselves? How
are the tanks heated?” “I do not know; but I think that there may be
other ways. Please put it out if you can do so. It threatens war to my
nation.” “I think you fly from a shadow, and that it would save your
life, not destroy; but, as you wish it, I will.”
I felt a resentment which I could hardly restrain at the folly of this
objection, and the unexpected reception of my successful experiment.
Apart from this, I had felt a real relief from the added security it
would give us, for I knew that I was in no fit condition to face a
second attack, if they should resolve to make it. But to such a plea
only one answer was possible.
The swift exchange of thought was of a moment’s duration only, but
already the dry wood was crackling, as I kicked it apart, and commenced
to stamp upon it. And then a fresh fact met me. The hard cold stony
smoothness of the floor, which looked less inflammable than asbestos,
was more so than celluloid. As I tried to stamp them out the flames did
not appear to bite into it, but played over its surface with a slight
clear hissing noise. It was only for a second that the event was
doubtful. Then I leapt back from the flames that were all around me. The
next I was flying down the hall, with the flames licking their way as
fast behind me.
A second sooner than myself my comrade had judged the issue, and was at
the door before me, and held it open. But for that I do not think it
possible that I could have escaped alive from that swift inferno.
As we turned to look back at the building we had left, a flame crept out
of the right-hand window, and spread swiftly in all directions. As we
gazed, my companion’s mind turned to me with unruffled gravity. “For
your part, I know that you meant well, and I think that you did rightly.
I see also that you have powers of which the limits are beyond my sight.
But I think also that the world I have known is ended.”
Above that gravity, a dancing light of adventure crossed her eyes for a
moment, and beneath was a fortitude which I knew would face what came
without flinching.
I answered more hopefully, “The flames appear to move over the surface
only. The building is of such material as will not burn at all in the
world I come from. I think that it must be covered with some protecting
varnish, which is inflammable. That will burn itself out very quickly,
and it will be as though nothing had happened.”
“No,” she said, “the building burns,” and even with the thought the
increasing heat drove us farther away, and the flames, which burned with
a hissing sound, rose higher.
“In any case,” I continued, “the fault is mine, and if we meet the
Dwellers, I will tell them.”
“The act was yours, but the cause was ours,” she answered--“and the
Dwellers will soon be here, that is a very certain thing, and it is our
part to decide how we shall meet them.”
By now the building rose a solid oblong of bright flame in a windless
air, and the heat was terrible.
On our right hand as we faced it, we saw six other buildings of a
similar type, and on our left was the steaming vat, with the
killing-pens built over it.
I thought, “The next building is catching.”
“Yes,” she answered, “they will all go.”
On the farther edge of the enclosure we saw the Killers, a pink crescent
standing outside the doors of the inner wall. They were quite silent,
and very still.
A yellow blotch on the sand, the wiser lizards made their way to the
open gate.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE TRIAL
As the heat increased we again moved backward, and stood there in a
pause of indecision; at least my own mind hesitated, and hers had
closed, as it would when she sought decision from a too-difficult
complexity.
At last I asked her, “Had we not better follow the example which the
lizards set so promptly? There is nothing here to do, and the Killers
seem too appalled for movement. As the fires die, their consternation
may give place to fury. I have lost my axe, and my knapsack, and all it
held. The bow is burnt, and were it not so, my right arm is useless. I
think we should make a sudden rush for the gate, for it is only speed
which will save us.”
She had a javelin in her hand, and she spun it in the air, and caught it
lightly as it fell, before she answered.
“Should the Killers try again, there is one that will sorrow. But I
think differently. It is with the Dwellers only that this game is played
from now onward. Perhaps it may be well to go. It is hard to say. But
you have not thought of the Bat-wings.”
No, I had not thought of the Bat-wings. It was not clear why I should.
It seemed to me that if we thought of ourselves we were sufficiently
occupied for the moment.
But I could not avoid the thought when she raised it, for they were
making a clamour which the hissing roar of the fire itself could not
entirely silence.
“I don’t see that they concern us,” I answered, “unless you think that
we should release them before we leave. They are not very attractive
animals, but I don’t know that I want them to be burnt to death. Still,
your Leader said they ought to die.”
“That is just the point,” she replied, “it was the order that they
should die, and I am of no mind to go, and leave them living.”
“I suppose your Leader meant that if we drove off the Killers, we should
do wrong to release them, and I have no wish to do so. But the Killers
are still here to boil them, if the fire should prove more merciful.
Surely that is sufficient. I did not think you so bloodthirsty. Besides,
the circumstances are different from anything that your Leader could
have foreseen.”
“Yes, the circumstances are certainly different. I think, where you are
concerned, they always are,” she answered drily, “but it is in my mind
that the Killers will not be here much longer. I think, also, that my
Leaders see very far, and that when we have gone a different way we have
not found it a good one. It seems to me that it is a thing that we
cannot leave to the chance that the Killers will remain, or of the
flames falling. We have this to think. We are in the land of the
Dwellers, where we have no right to be. They had judged these Bat-wings,
which were theirs, and they had given them to be used at a Feast which
will very surely not be held, through our doing. They had not judged
them to burn. I think we should see that their will is done, if we are
able.”
I saw that she regarded the fate of the Bat-wings no more than that of a
shoal of cod that she might guide to the fish-tanks--or, indeed, less,
if she compared them, for the cod would be innocent of anything worse
than feeding when hunger urged them--but that her feeling was as that of
one who has unavoidably trampled his neighbour’s garden, and would
smooth it over, as best he may, before leaving.
I said, “I see your view, and for you it may be right. But though you
regard me as a lower creature than yourself, and addicted to violence, I
am not willing to throw wretches into the boiling tank--which seems your
purpose--for faults which I have not judged, and the guilt of which I am
unable to estimate. Neither am I willing to release them, lest they
might do us mischief, or desire our company. Nor do I think the fire
will reach them, for the steam will quench it.”
She answered equably, “Of steam and fire I know something, though not on
the earth’s surface, and this is not the time for the telling. But I
think that the killing-pens will burn to the water’s edge as the heat
increases. As to the Bat-wings, I have lived for many centuries, and I
did not know that creatures of such baseness are, or had been. I care
nothing for them, except that they should cease to be, and it seems best
to me that it should be done quickly. I know that my Leader’s mind is