>

"For what?"



"I don't know... How's this, though? Those peaks have changed colour,

from red to green."



"Yes, the lich wind is travelling this way."



"The lich wind?"



"It's the atmosphere of Lichstorm. It always clings to the mountains,

but when the wind blows from the north it comes as far as Threal."



"It's a sort of fog, then?"



"A peculiar sort, for they say it excites the sexual passions."



"So we are to have lovemaking," said Maskull, laughing.



"Perhaps you won't find it so joyous," replied Corpang a little grimly.



"But tell me--these peaks, how do they preserve their balance?"



Corpang gazed at the distant, overhanging summits, which were fast

fading into obscurity.



"Passion keeps them from falling."



Maskull laughed again; he was feeling a strange disturbance of spirit.

"What, the love of rock for rock?"



"It is comical, but true."



"We'll take a closer peep at them presently. Beyond the mountains is

Barey, is it not?"



"Yes."



"And then the Ocean. But what is the name of that Ocean?"



"That is told only to those who die beside it."



"Is the secret so precious, Corpang?"



Branchspell was nearing the horizon in the west; there were more than

two hours of daylight remaining. The air all around them became murky.

It was a thin mist, neither damp nor cold. The Lichstorm Range now

appeared only as a blur on the sky. The air was electric and tingling,

and was exciting in its effect. Maskull felt a sort of emotional

inflammation, as though a very slight external cause would serve to

overturn his self-control. Corpang stood silent with a mouth like iron.



Maskull kept looking toward a high pile of rocks in the vicinity.



"That seems to me a good watchtower. Perhaps we shall see something from

the top."



Without waiting for his companion's opinion, he began to scramble up the

tower, and in a few minutes was standing on the summit. Corpang joined

him.



From their viewpoint they saw the whole countryside sloping down to

the sea, which appeared as a mere flash of far-off, glittering

water. Leaving all that, however, Maskull's eyes immediately fastened

themselves on a small, boat-shaped object, about two miles away, which

was travelling rapidly toward them, suspended only a few feet in the

air.



"What do you make of that?" he asked in a tone of astonishment.



Corpang shook his head and said nothing.



Within two minutes the flying object, whatever it was, had diminished

the distance between them by one half. It resembled a boat more and

more, but its flight was erratic, rather than smooth; its nose was

continually jerking upward and downward, and from side to side. Maskull

now made out a man sitting in the stern, and what looked like a large

dead animal lying amidships. As the aerial craft drew nearer, he

observed a thick, blue haze underneath it, and a similar haze behind,

but the front, facing them, was clear.



"Here must be what we are waiting for, Corpang. But what on earth

carries it?"



He stroked his beard contemplatively, and then, fearing that they had

not been seen, stepped onto the highest rock, bellowed loudly, and made

wild motions with his arm. The flying-boat, which was only a few hundred

yards distant, slightly altered its course, now heading toward them in a

way that left no doubt that the steersman had detected their presence.



The boat slackened speed until it was travelling no faster than a

walking man, but the irregularity of its movements continued. It was

shaped rather queerly. About twenty feet long, its straight sides

tapered off from a flat bow, four feet broad, to a sharp-angled stern.

The flat bottom was not above ten feet from the ground. It was undecked,

and carried only one living occupant; the other object they had

distinguished was really the carcass of an animal, of about the size

of a large sheep. The blue haze trailing behind the boat appeared to

emanate from the glittering point of a short upright pole fastened in

the stem. When the craft was within a few feet of them, and they were

looking down at it in wonder from above, the man removed this pole and

covered the brightly shining tip with a cap. The forward motion then

ceased altogether, and the boat began to drift hither and thither,

but still it remained suspended in the air, while the haze underneath

persisted. Finally the broad side came gently up against the pile of

rocks on which they were standing. The steersman jumped ashore and

immediately clambered up to meet them.



Maskull offered him a hand, but he refused it disdainfully. He was a

young man, of middle height. He wore a close-fitting fur garment. His

limbs were quite ordinary, but his trunk was disproportionately long,

and he had the biggest and deepest chest that Maskull had ever seen in

a man. His hairless face was sharp, pointed, and ugly, with protruding

teeth, and a spiteful, grinning expression. His eyes and brows sloped

upward. On his forehead was an organ which looked as though it had been

mutilated--it was a mere disagreeable stump of flesh. His hair was short

and thin. Maskull could not name the colour of his skin, but it seemed

to stand in the same relation to jale as green to red.



Once up, the stranger stood for a minute or two, scrutinising the two

companions through half-closed lids, all the time smiling insolently.

Maskull was all eagerness to exchange words, but did not care to be the

first to speak. Corpang stood moodily, a little in the background.



"What men are you?" demanded the aerial navigator at last. His voice was

extremely loud, and possessed a most unpleasant timbre. It sounded to

Maskull like a large volume of air trying to force its way through a

narrow orifice.



"I am Maskull; my friend is Corpang. He comes from Threal, but where I

come from, don't ask."



"I am Haunte, from Sarclash."



"Where may that be?"



"Half an hour ago I could have shown it to you, but now it has got too

murky. It is a mountain in Lichstorm."



"Are you returning there now?"



"Yes."



"And how long will it take to get there in that boat?"



"Two--three hours."



"Will it accommodate us too?"



"What, are you for Lichstorm as well? What can you want there?"



"To see the sights," responded Maskull with twinkling eyes. "But first

of all, to dine. I can't remember having eaten all day. You seem to have

been hunting to some purpose, so we won't lack for food."



Haunte eyed him quizzically. "You certainly don't lack impudence.

However, I'm a man of that sort myself, and it is the sort I prefer.

Your friend, now, would probably rather starve than ask a meal of a

stranger. He looks to me just like a bewildered toad dragged up out of a

dark hole."



Maskull took Corpang's arm, and constrained him to silence.



"Where have you been hunting, Haunte?"



"Matterplay. I had the worst luck--I speared one wold horse, and there

it lies."



"What is Lichstorm like?"



"There are men there, and there are women there, but there are no

men-women, as with you."



"What do you call men-women?"



"Persons of mixed sex, like yourself. In Lichstorm the sexes are pure."



"I have always regarded myself as a man."



"Very likely you have; but the test is, do you hate and fear women?"



"Why, do you?"



Haunte grinned and showed his teeth. "Things are different in

Lichstorm.... So you want to see the sights?"



"I confess I am curious to see your women, for example, after what you

say."



"Then I'll introduce you to Sullenbode."



He paused a moment after making this remark, and then suddenly uttered a

great, bass laugh, so that his chest shook.



"Let us share the joke," said Maskull.



"Oh, you'll understand it later."



"If you play pranks with me, I won't stand on ceremony with you."



Haunte laughed again. "I won't be the one to play pranks. Sullenbode

will be deeply obliged to me. If I don't visit her myself as often as

she would like, I'm always glad to serve her in other ways.... Well, you

shall have your boat ride."



Maskull rubbed his nose doubtfully. "If the sexes hate one another in

your land, is it because passion is weaker, or stronger?"



"In other parts of the world there is soft passion, but in Lichstorm

there is hard passion."



"But what do you call hard passion?"



"Where men are called to women by pain, and not pleasure."



"I intend to understand, before I've finished."



"Yes," answered Haunte, with a taunting look, "it would be a pity to let

the chance slip, since you're going to Lichstorm."



It was now Corpang's turn to take Maskull by the arm. "This journey will

end badly."



"Why so?"



"Your goal was Muspel a short while ago; now it is women."



"Let me alone," said Maskull. "Give luck a slack rein. What brought this

boat here?"



"What is this talk about Muspel?" demanded Haunte.



Corpang caught his shoulder roughly, and stared straight into his eyes.

"What do you know?"



"Not much, but something, perhaps. Ask me at supper. Now it is high time

to start. Navigating the mountains by night isn't child's play, let me

tell you."



"I shall not forget," said Corpang.



Maskull gazed down at the boat. "Are we to get in?"



"Gently, my friend. It's only canework and skin."



"First of all, you might enlighten me as to how you have contrived to

dispense with the laws of gravitation."



Haunte smiled sarcastically. "A secret in your ear, Maskull. All laws

are female. A true male is an outlaw--outside the law."



"I don't understand."



"The great body of the earth is continually giving out female particles,

and the male parts of rocks and living bodies are equally continually

trying to reach them. That's gravitation."



"Then how do you manage with your boat?"



"My two male stones do the work. The one underneath the boat prevents it

from falling to the ground; the one in the stem shuts it off from solid

objects in the rear. The only part of the boat attracted by any part

of the earth is the bow, for that's the only part the light of the male

stones does not fall on. So in that direction the boat travels."



"And what are these wondrous male stones?"



"They really are male stones. There is nothing female in them; they

are showering out male sparks all the time. These sparks devour all the

female particles rising from the earth. No female particles are left

over to attract the male parts of the boat, and so they are not in the

least attracted in that direction."



Maskull ruminated for a minute.



"With your hunting, and boatbuilding, and science, you seem a very

handy, skilful fellow, Haunte.... But the sun's sinking, and we'd better

start."



"Get down first, then, and shift that carcass farther forward. Then you

and your gloomy friend can sit amidships."



Maskull immediately climbed down, and dropped himself into the boat; but

then he received a surprise. The moment he stood on the frail bottom,

still clinging to the rock, not only did his weight entirely disappear,

as though he were floating in some heavy medium, like salt water, but

the rock he held onto drew him, as by a mild current of electricity, and

he was able to withdraw his hands only with difficulty.



After the first moment's shock, he quietly accepted the new order of

things, and set about shifting the carcass. Since there was no weight

in the boat this was effected without any great labour. Corpang then

descended. The astonishing physical change had no power to disturb his

settled composure, which was founded on moral ideas. Haunte came last;

grasping the staff which held the upper male stone, he proceeded to

erect it, after removing the cap. Maskull then obtained his first near

view of the mysterious light, which, by counteracting the forces of

Nature, acted indirectly not only as elevator but as motive force. In

the last ruddy gleams of the great sun, its rays were obscured, and it

looked little more impressive than an extremely brilliant, scintillating

blue-white jewel, but its power could be gauged by the visible, coloured

mist that it threw out for many yards around.



The steering was effected by means of a shutter attached by a cord to

the top of the staff, which could be so manipulated that any segment of

the male stone's rays, or all the rays, or none at all, could be shut

off at will. No sooner was the staff raised than the aerial vessel

quietly detached itself from the rock to which it had been drawn, and

passed slowly forward in the direction of the mountains. Branchspell

sank below the horizon. The gathering mist blotted out everything

outside a radius of a few miles. The air grew cool and fresh.



Soon the rock masses ceased on the great, rising plain. Haunte withdrew

the shutter entirely, and the boat gathered full speed.



"You say that navigation among the mountains is difficult at night,"

exclaimed Maskull. "I would have thought it impossible."



Haunte grunted. "You will have to take risks, and think yourself

fortunate if you come off with nothing worse than a cracked skull. But

one thing I can tell you--if you go on disturbing me with your chitchat

we shan't get as far as the mountains."



Thereafter Maskull was silent.



The twilight deepened; the murk grew denser. There was little to look

at, but much to feel. The motion of the boat, which was due to

the never-ending struggle between the male stones and the force of

gravitation, resembled in an exaggerated fashion the violent tossing

of a small craft on a choppy sea. The two passengers became unhappy.

Haunte, from his seat in the stern, gazed at them sardonically with one

eye. The darkness now came on rapidly.



About ninety minutes after the commencement of the voyage they arrived

at the foothills of Lichstorm. They began to mount. There was no

daylight left to see by. Beneath them, however, on both sides of

them and in the rear, the landscape was lighted up for a considerable

distance by the now vivid blue rays of the twin male stones. Ahead,

where these rays did not shine, Haunte was guided by the self-luminous

nature of the rocks, grass, and trees. These were faintly

phosphorescent; the vegetation shone out more strongly than the soil.



The moon was not shining and there were no stars; Maskull therefore

inferred that the upper atmosphere was dense with mist. Once or twice,

from his sensations of choking, he thought that they were entering a

fogbank, but it was a strange kind of fog, for it had the effect of

doubling the intensity of every light in front of them. Whenever this

happened, nightmare feelings attacked him; he experienced transitory,

unreasoning fright and horror.



Now they passed high above the valley that separated the foothills from

the mountains themselves. The boat began an ascent of many thousands

of feet and, as the cliffs were near, Haunte had to manoeuvre carefully

with the rear light in order to keep clear of them. Maskull watched the

delicacy of his movements, not without admiration. A long time went

by. It grew much colder; the air was damp and drafty. The fog began to

deposit something like snow on their persons. Maskull kept sweating with

terror, not because of the danger they were in, but because of the cloud

banks that continued to envelop them.



They cleared the first line of precipices. Still mounting, but this time

with a forward motion, as could be seen by the vapours illuminated by

the male stones through which they passed, they were soon altogether out

of sight of solid ground. Suddenly and quite unexpectedly the moon broke

through. In the upper atmosphere thick masses of fog were seen crawling

hither and thither, broken in many places by thin rifts of sky, through

one of which Teargeld was shining. Below them, to their left, a gigantic

peak, glittering with green ice, showed itself for a few seconds, and

was then swallowed up again. All the rest of the world was hidden by the

mist. The moon went in again. Maskull had seen quite enough to make him

long for the aerial voyage to end.



The light from the male stones presently illuminated the face of a new

cliff. It was grand, rugged, and perpendicular. Upward, downward, and on

both sides, it faded imperceptibly into the night. After coasting it a

little way, they observed a shelf of rock jutting out. It was square,

measuring about a dozen feet each way. Green snow covered it to a depth

of some inches. Immediately behind it was a dark slit in the rock, which

promised to be the mouth of a cave.



Haunte skilfully landed the boat on this platform. Standing up, he

raised the staff bearing the keel light and lowered the other; then

removed both male stones, which he continued to hold in his hand. His

face was thrown into strong relief by the vivid, sparkling blue-white

rays. It looked rather surly.



"Do we get out?" inquired Maskull.



"Yes. I live here."



"Thanks for the successful end of a dangerous journey."



"Yes, it has been touch-and-go."



Corpang jumped onto the platform. He was smiling coarsely. "There

has been no danger, for our destinies lie elsewhere. You are merely a

ferryman, Haunte."



"Is that so?" returned Haunte, with a most unpleasant laugh. "I thought

I was carrying men, not gods."



"Where are we?" asked Maskull. As he spoke, he got out, but Haunte

remained standing a minute in the boat.



"This is Sarclash--the second highest mountain in the land."



"Which is the highest, then?"



"Adage. Between Sarclash and Adage there is a long ridge--very difficult

in places. About halfway along the ridge, at the lowest point, lies the

top of the Mornstab Pass, which goes through to Barey. Now you know the

lay of the land."



"Does the woman Sullenbode live near here?"



"Near enough." Haunte grinned.



He leaped out of the boat and, pushing past the others without ceremony,

walked straight into the cave.



Maskull followed, with Corpang at his heels. A few stone steps led to

a doorway, curtained by the skin of some large beast. Their host pushed

his way in, never offering to hold the skin aside for them. Maskull made

no comment, but grabbed it with his fist and tugged it away from its

fastenings to the ground. Haunte looked at the skin, and then stared

hard at Maskull with his disagreeable smile, but neither said anything.



The place in which they found themselves was a large oblong cavern, with

walls, floor, and ceiling of natural rock. There were two doorways:

that by which they had entered, and another of smaller size directly

opposite. The cave was cold and cheerless; a damp draft passed from

door to door. Many skins of wild animals lay scattered on the ground.

A number of lumps of sun-dried flesh were hanging on a string along the

wall, and a few bulging liquor skins reposed in a corner. There were

tusks, horns, and bones everywhere. Resting against the wall were two

short hunting spears, having beautiful crystal heads.



Haunte set down the two male stones on the ground, near the farther

door; their light illuminated the whole cave. He then walked over to the

meat and, snatching a large piece, began to gnaw it ravenously.



"Are we invited to the feast?" asked Maskull.



Haunte pointed to the hanging flesh and to the liquor skins, but did not

pause in his chewing.



"Where's a cup?" inquired Maskull, lifting one of the skins.



Haunte indicated a clay goblet lying on the floor. Maskull picked it up,

undid the neck of the skin, and, resting it under his arm, filled the

cup. Tasting the liquor, he discovered it to be raw spirit. He tossed

off the draught, and then felt much better.



The second cupful he proffered to Corpang. The latter took a single sip,

swallowed it, and then passed the cup back without a word. He refused to

drink again, as long as they were in the cave. Maskull finished the cup,

and began to throw off care.



Going to the meat line, he took down a large double handful, and sat

down on a pile of skins to eat at his ease. The flesh was tough

and coarse, but he had never tasted anything sweeter. He could not

understand the flavour, which was not surprising in a world of strange

animals. The meal proceeded in silence. Corpang ate sparingly, standing

up, and afterward lay down on a bundle of furs. His bold eyes watched

all the movements of the other two. Haunte had not drunk as yet.



At last Maskull concluded his meal. He emptied another cup, sighed

pleasantly, and prepared to talk.



"Now explain further about your women, Haunte."



Haunte fetched another skin of liquor and a second cup. He tore off the

string with his teeth, and poured out and drank cup after cup in quick

succession. Then he sat down, crossed his legs, and turned to Maskull.



"Well?"



"So they are objectionable?"



"They are deadly."



"Deadly? In what way can they possibly be deadly?"



"You will learn. I was watching you in the boat, Maskull. You had some

bad feelings, eh?"



"I don't conceal it. There were times when I felt as if I were

struggling with a nightmare. What caused it?"



"The female atmosphere of Lichstorm. Sexual passion."



"I had no passion."



"That was passion--the first stage. Nature tickles your people into

marriage, but it tortures us. Wait till you get outside. You'll have a

return of those sensations--only ten times worse. The drink you've had

will see to that.... How do you suppose it will all end?"



"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you questions."



Haunte laughed loudly. "Sullenbode."



"You mean it will end in my seeking Sullenbode?"



"But what will come of it, Maskull? What will she give you? Sweet,

fainting, white-armed, feminine voluptuousness?"



Maskull coolly drank another cup. "And why should she give all that to a

passerby?"



"Well, as a matter of fact, she hasn't it to give. No, what she will

give you, and what you'll accept from her, because you can't help it,

is--anguish, insanity, possibly death."



"You may be talking sense, but it sounds like raving to me. Why should I

accept insanity and death?"



"Because your passion will force you to."



"What about yourself?" Maskull asked, biting his nails.



"Oh, I have my male stones. I am immune."



"Is that all that prevents you from being like other men?"



"Yes, but don't attempt any tricks, Maskull."



Maskull went on drinking steadily, and said nothing for a time. "So

men and women here are hostile to each other, and love is unknown?" he

proceeded at last.



"That magic word.... Shall I tell you what love is, Maskull? Love

between male and female is impossible. When Maskull loves a woman, it is

Maskull's female ancestors who are loving her. But here in this land the

men are pure males. They have drawn nothing from the female side."



"Where do the male stones come from?"



"Oh, they are not freaks. There must be whole beds of the stuff

somewhere. It is all that prevents the world from being a pure female

world. It would be one big mass of heavy sweetness, without individual

shapes."



"Yet this same sweetness is torturing to men?"



"The life of an absolute male is fierce. An excess of life is dangerous

to the body. How can it be anything else than torturing?"



Corpang now sat up suddenly, and addressed Haunte. "I remind you of your

promise to tell about Muspel."



Haunte regarded him with a malevolent smile. "Ha! The underground man

has come to life."



"Yes, tell us," put in Maskull carelessly.



Haunte drank, and laughed a little. "Well, the tale's short, and hardly

worth telling, but since you're interested.... A stranger came here five

years ago, inquiring after Muspel-light. His name was Lodd. He came from

the east. He came up to me one bright morning in summer, outside this

very cave. If you ask me to describe him--I can't imagine a second man

like him. He looked so proud, noble, superior, that I felt my own blood

to be dirty by comparison. You can guess I don't have this feeling for

everyone. Now that I am recalling him, he was not so much superior as

different. I was so impressed that I rose and talked to him standing. He

inquired the direction of the mountain Adage. He went on to say, 'They

say Muspel-light is sometimes seen there. What do you know of such a

thing?' I told him the truth--that I knew nothing about it, and then he

went on, 'Well, I am going to Adage. And tell those who come after me

on the same errand that they had better do the same thing.' That was the

whole conversation. He started on his way, and I've never seen him or

heard of him since."



"So you didn't have the curiosity to follow him?"



"No, because the moment he had turned his back all my interest in the

man somehow seemed to vanish."



"Probably because he was useless to you."



Corpang glanced at Maskull. "Our road is marked out for us."



"So it would appear," said Maskull indifferently.





The talk flagged for a time. Maskull felt the silence oppressive, and

grew restless.



"What do you call the colour of your skin, Haunte, as I saw it in

daylight? It struck me as strange."



"Dolm," said Haunte.



"A compound of ulfire and blue," explained Corpang.



"Now I know. These colours are puzzling for a stranger."



"What colours have you in your world?" asked Corpang.



"Only three primary ones, but here you seem to have five, though how it

comes about I can't imagine."



"There are two sets of three primary colours here," said Corpang, "but

as one of the colours--blue--is identical in both sets, altogether there

are five primary colours."



"Why two sets?"



"Produced by the two suns. Branchspell produces blue, yellow, and red;

Alppain, ulfire, blue, and jale."



"It's remarkable that explanation has never occurred to me before."



"So here you have another illustration of the necessary trinity

of nature. Blue is existence. It is darkness seen through light; a

contrasting of existence and nothingness. Yellow is relation. In

yellow light we see the relation of objects in the clearest way. Red

is feeling. When we see red, we are thrown back on our personal

feelings.... As regards the Alppain colours, blue stands in the middle

and is therefore not existence, but relation. Ulfire is existence; so it

must be a different sort of existence."



Haunte yawned. "There are marvellous philosophers in your underground

hole."



Maskull got up and looked about him.



"Where does that other door lead to?"



"Better explore," said Haunte.



Maskull took him at his word, and strolled across the cave, flinging the

curtain aside and disappearing into the night. Haunte rose abruptly and

hurried after him.



Corpang too got to his feet. He went over to the untouched spirit skins,

untied the necks, and allowed the contents to gush out on to the floor.

Next he took the hunting spears, and snapped off the points between

his hands. Before he had time to resume his seat, Haunte and Maskull

reappeared. The host's quick, shifty eyes at once took in what had

happened. He smiled, and turned pale.



"You haven't been idle, friend."



Corpang fixed Haunte with his bold, heavy gaze. "I thought it well to

draw your teeth."



Maskull burst out laughing. "The toad's come into the light to some

purpose, Haunte. Who would have expected it?"



Haunte, after staring hard at Corpang for two or three minutes, suddenly

uttered a strange cry, like an evil spirit, and flung himself upon him.

The two men began to wrestle like wildcats. They were as often on the

floor as on their legs, and Maskull could not see who was getting the

better of it. He made no attempt to separate them. A thought came

into his head and, snatching up the two male stones, he ran with them,

laughing, through the upper doorway, into the open night air.



The door overlooked an abyss on another face of the mountain. A narrow

ledge, sprinkled with green snow, wound along the cliff to the right; it

was the only available path. He pitched the pebbles over the edge of the

chasm. Although hard and heavy in his hand, they sank more like feathers

than stones, and left a long trail of vapour behind. While Maskull was

still watching them disappear, Haunte came rushing out of the cavern,

followed by Corpang. He gripped Maskull's arm excitedly.



"What in Krag's name have you done?"



"Overboard they have gone," replied Maskull, renewing his laughter.



"You accursed madman!"



Haunte's luminous colour came and went, just as though his internal

light were breathing. Then he grew suddenly calm, by a supreme exertion

of his will.



"You know this kills me?"



"Haven't you been doing your best this last hour to make me ripe for

Sullenbode? Well then, cheer up, and join the pleasure party!"



"You say it as a joke, but it is the miserable truth."



Haunte's jeering malevolence had completely vanished. He looked a sick

man--yet somehow his face had become nobler.



"I would be very sorry for you, Haunte, if it did not entail my being

also very sorry for myself. We are now all three together on the same

errand--which doesn't appear to have struck you yet."



"But why this errand at all?" asked Corpang quietly. "Can't you men

exercise self-control till you have arrived out of danger?"



Haunte fixed him with wild eyes. "No. The phantoms come trooping in on

me already."



He sat down moodily, but the next minute was up again.



"And I cannot wait.... the game is started."



Soon afterward, by silent consent, they began to walk the ledge, Haunte

in front. It was narrow, ascending, and slippery, so that extreme

caution was demanded. The way was lighted by the self-luminous snow and

rocks.



When they had covered about half a mile, Maskull, who went second of the

party, staggered, caught the cliff, and finally sat down.



"The drink works. My old sensations are returning, but worse."



Haunte turned back. "Then you are a doomed man."



Maskull, though fully conscious of his companions and situation,

imagined that he was being oppressed by a black, shapeless, supernatural

being, who was trying to clasp him. He was filled with horror, trembled

violently, yet could not move a limb. Sweat tumbled off his face in

great drops. The waking nightmare lasted a long time, but during that

space it kept coming and going. At one moment the vision seemed on the

point of departing; the next it almost took shape--which he knew would

be his death. Suddenly it vanished altogether--he was free. A fresh

spring breeze fanned his face; he heard the slow, solitary singing of a

sweet bird; and it seemed to him as if a poem had shot together in his

soul. Such flashing, heartbreaking joy he had never experienced before

in all his life! Almost immediately that too vanished.



Sitting up, he passed his hand across his eyes and swayed quietly, like

one who has been visited by an angel.



"Your colour changed to white," said Corpang. "What happened?"



"I passed through torture to love," replied Maskull simply.



He stood up. Haunte gazed at him sombrely. "Will you not describe that

passage?"



Maskull answered slowly and thoughtfully. "When I was in Matterplay,

I saw heavy clouds discharge themselves and change to coloured, living

animals. In the same way, my black, chaotic pangs just now seemed to

consolidate themselves and spring together as a new sort of joy. The joy

would not have been possible without the preliminary nightmare. It is

not accidental; Nature intends it so. The truth has just flashed through

my brain.... You men of Lichstorm don't go far enough. You stop at the

pangs, Without realising that they are birth pangs."



"If this is true, you are a great pioneer," muttered Haunte.



"How does this sensation differ from common love?" interrogated Corpang.



"This was all that love is, multiplied by wildness."



Corpang fingered his chin awhile. "The Lichstorm men, however, will

never reach this stage, for they are too masculine."



Haunte turned pale. "Why should we alone suffer?"



"Nature is freakish and cruel, and doesn't act according to justice....

Follow us, Haunte, and escape from it all."



"I'll see," muttered Haunte. "Perhaps I will."



"Have we far to go, to Sullenbode?" inquired Maskull.



"No, her home's under the hanging cap of Sarclash."



"What is to happen tonight?" Maskull spoke to himself, but Haunte

answered him.



"Don't expect anything pleasant, in spite of what has just occurred. She

is not a woman, but a mass of pure sex. Your passion will draw her out

into human shape, but only for a moment. If the change were permanent,

you would have endowed her with a soul."



"Perhaps the change might be made permanent."



"To do that, it is not enough to desire her; she must desire you as

well. But why should she desire you?"



"Nothing turns out as one expects," said Maskull, shaking his head. "We

had better get on again."



They resumed the journey. The ledge still rose, but, on turning a corner

of the cliff, Haunte quitted it and began to climb a steep gully, which

mounted directly to the upper heights. Here they were compelled to use

both hands and feet. Maskull thought all the while of nothing but the

overwhelming sweetness he had just experienced.



The flat ground on top was dry and springy. There was no more snow, and

bright plants appeared. Haunte turned sharply to the left.



"This must be under the cap," said Maskull.



"It is; and within five minutes you will see Sullenbode."



When he spoke his words, Maskull's lips surprised him by their tender

sensitiveness. Their action against each other sent thrills throughout

his body.



The grass shone dimly. A huge tree, with glowing branches, came into

sight. It bore a multitude of red fruit, like hanging lanterns, but

no leaves. Underneath this tree Sullenbode was sitting. Her beautiful

light--a mingling of jale and white--gleamed softly through the

darkness. She sat erect, on crossed legs, asleep. She was clothed in

a singular skin garment, which started as a cloak thrown over one

shoulder, and ended as loose breeches terminating above the knees. Her

forearms were lightly folded, and in one hand she held a half-eaten

fruit.



Maskull stood over her and looked down, deeply interested. He thought he

had never seen anything half so feminine. Her flesh was almost melting

in its softness. So undeveloped were the facial organs that they looked

scarcely human; only the lips were full, pouting, and expressive. In

their richness, these lips seemed like a splash of vivid will on a

background of slumbering protoplasm. Her hair was undressed. Its colour

could not be distinguished. It was long and tangled, and had been tucked

into her garment behind, for convenience.



Corpang looked calm and sullen, but both the others were visibly

agitated. Maskull's heart was hammering away under his chest. Haunte

pulled him, and said, "My head feels as if it were being torn from my

shoulders."



"What can that mean?"



"Yet there's a horrible joy in it," added Haunte, with a sickly smile.



He put his hand on the woman's shoulder. She awoke softly, glanced up at

them, smiled, and then resumed eating her fruit. Maskull did not imagine

that she had intelligence enough to speak. Haunte suddenly dropped on

his knees, and kissed her lips.



She did not repulse him. During the continuance of the kiss, Maskull

noticed with a shock that her face was altering. The features emerged

from their indistinctness and became human, and almost powerful. The

smile faded, a scowl took its place. She thrust Haunte away, rose to her

feet, and stared beneath bent brows at the three men, each one in turn.

Maskull came last; his face she studied for quite a long time, but

nothing indicated what she thought.



Meanwhile Haunte again approached her, staggering and grinning. She

suffered him quietly; but the instant lips met lips the second time, he

fell backward with a startled cry, as though he had come in contact with

an electric wire. The back of his head struck the ground, and he lay

there motionless.



Corpang sprang forward to his assistance. But, when he saw what had

happened, he left him where he was.



"Maskull, come here quickly!"



The light was perceptibly fading from Haunte's skin, as Maskull bent

over. The man was dead. His face was unrecognisable. The head had

been split from the top downward into two halves, streaming with

strange-coloured blood, as though it had received a terrible blow from

an axe.



"This couldn't be from the fall," said Maskull.



"No, Sullenbode did it."



Maskull turned quickly to look at the woman. She had resumed her former

attitude on the ground. The momentary intelligence had vanished from her

face, and she was again smiling.