Oceaxe

: A Voyage To Arcturus

Maskull's second day on Tormance dawned. Branchspell was already above

the horizon when he awoke. He was instantly aware that his organs had

changed during the night. His fleshy breve was altered into an eyelike

sorb; his magn had swelled and developed into a third arm, springing

from the breast. The arm gave him at once a sense of greater physical

security, but with the sorb he was obliged to experiment, before he

cou
d grasp its function.



As he lay there in the white sunlight, opening and shutting each of

his three eyes in turn, he found that the two lower ones served his

understanding, the upper one his will. That is to say, with the lower

eyes he saw things in clear detail, but without personal interest; with

the sorb he saw nothing as self-existent--everything appeared as an

object of importance or non-importance to his own needs.



Rather puzzled as to how this would turn out, he got up and looked about

him. He had slept out of sight of Oceaxe. He was anxious to learn if

she were still on the spot, but before going to ascertain he made up his

mind to bathe in the river.



It was a glorious morning. The hot white sun already began to glare,

but its heat was tempered by a strong wind, which whistled through

the trees. A host of fantastic clouds filled the sky. They looked like

animals, and were always changing shape. The ground, as well as the

leaves and branches of the forest trees, still held traces of heavy dew

or rain during the night. A poignantly sweet smell of nature entered his

nostrils. His pain was quiescent, and his spirits were high.



Before he bathed, he viewed the mountains of the Ifdawn Marest. In the

morning sunlight they stood out pictorially. He guessed that they were

from five to six thousand feet high. The lofty, irregular, castellated

line seemed like the walls of a magic city. The cliffs fronting him were

composed of gaudy rocks--vermilion, emerald, yellow, ulfire, and black.

As he gazed at them, his heart began to beat like a slow, heavy drum,

and he thrilled all over--indescribable hopes, aspirations, and emotions

came over him. It was more than the conquest of a new world which he

felt--it was something different....



He bathed and drank, and as he was reclothing himself, Oceaxe strolled

indolently up.



He could now perceive the colour of her skin--it was a vivid, yet

delicate mixture of carmine, white, and jale. The effect was

startlingly unearthly. With these new colors she looked like a genuine

representative of a strange planet. Her frame also had something curious

about it. The curves were womanly, the bones were characteristically

female--yet all seemed somehow to express a daring, masculine underlying

will. The commanding eye on her forehead set the same puzzle in plainer

language. Its bold, domineering egotism was shot with undergleams of sex

and softness.



She came to the river's edge and reviewed him from top to toe. "Now you

are built more like a man," she said, in her lovely, lingering voice.



"You see, the experiment was successful," he answered, smiling gaily.



Oceaxe continued looking him over. "Did some woman give you that

ridiculous robe?"



"A woman did give it to me"--dropping his smile--"but I saw nothing

ridiculous in the gift at the time, and I don't now."



"I think I'd look better in it."



As she drawled the words, she began stripping off the skin, which suited

her form so well, and motioned to him to exchange garments. He obeyed,

rather shamefacedly, for he realised that the proposed exchange was

in fact more appropriate to his sex. He found the skin a freer dress.

Oceaxe in her drapery appeared more dangerously feminine to him.



"I don't want you to receive gifts at all from other women," she

remarked slowly.



"Why not? What can I be to you?"



"I have been thinking about you during the night." Her voice was

retarded, scornful, viola-like. She sat down on the trunk of a fallen

tree, and looked away.



"In what way?"



She returned no answer to his question, but began to pull off pieces of

the bark.



"Last night you were so contemptuous."



"Last night is not today. Do you always walk through the world with your

head over your shoulder?"



It was now Maskull's turn to be silent.



"Still, if you have male instincts, as I suppose you have, you can't go

on resisting me forever."



"But this is preposterous," said Maskull, opening his eyes wide. "Granted

that you are a beautiful woman--we can't be quite so primeval."



Oceaxe sighed, and rose to her feet. "It doesn't matter. I can wait."



"From that I gather that you intend to make the journey in my society.

I have no objection--in fact I shall be glad--but only on condition that

you drop this language."



"Yet you do think me beautiful?"



"Why shouldn't I think so, if it is the fact? I fail to see what that

has to do with my feelings. Bring it to an end, Oceaxe. You will find

plenty of men to admire--and love you."



At that she blazed up. "Does love pick and choose, you fool? Do you

imagine I am so hard put to it that I have to hunt for lovers? Is not

Crimtyphon waiting for me at this very moment?"



"Very well. I am sorry to have hurt your feelings. Now carry the

temptation no farther--for it is a temptation, where a lovely woman is

concerned. I am not my own master."



"I'm not proposing anything so very hateful, am I? Why do you humiliate

me so?"



Maskull put his hands behind his back. "I repeat, I am not my own

master."



"Then who is your master?"



"Yesterday I saw Surtur, and from today I am serving him."



"Did you speak with him?" she asked curiously.



"I did."



"Tell me what he said."



"No, I can't--I won't. But whatever he said, his beauty was more

tormenting than yours, Oceaxe, and that's why I can look at you in cold

blood."



"Did Surtur forbid you to be a man?"



Maskull frowned. "Is love such a manly sport, then? I should have

thought it effeminate."



"It doesn't matter. You won't always be so boyish. But don't try my

patience too far."



"Let us talk about something else--and, above all, let us get on our

road."



She suddenly broke into a laugh, so rich, sweet, and enchanting, that he

grew half inflamed, and half wished to catch her body in his arms. "Oh,

Maskull, Maskull--what a fool you are!"



"In what way am I a fool?" he demanded, scowling not at her words, but

at his own weakness.



"Isn't the whole world the handiwork of innumerable pairs of lovers? And

yet you think yourself above all that. You try to fly away from nature,

but where will you find a hole to hide yourself in?"



"Besides beauty, I now credit you with a second quality: persistence."



"Read me well, and then it is natural law that you'll think twice and

three times before throwing me away.... And now, before we go, we had

better eat."



"Eat?" said Maskull thoughtfully.



"Don't you eat? Is food in the same category as love?"



"What food is it?"



"Fish from the river."



Maskull recollected his promise to Joiwind. At the same time, he felt

hungry.



"Is there nothing milder?"



She pulled her mouth scornfully. "You came through Poolingdred, didn't

you? All the people there are the same. They think life is to be looked

at, and not lived. Now that you are visiting Ifdawn, you will have to

change your notions."



"Go catch your fish," he returned, pulling down his brows.



The broad, clear waters flowed past them with swelling undulations,

from the direction of the mountains. Oceaxe knelt down on the bank,

and peered into the depths. Presently her look became tense and

concentrated; she dipped her hand in and pulled out some sort of little

monster. It was more like a reptile than a fish, with its scaly plates

and teeth. She threw it on the ground, and it started crawling about.

Suddenly she darted all her will into her sorb. The creature leaped into

the air, and fell down dead.



She picked up a sharp-edged slate, and with it removed the scales and

entrails. During this operation, her hands and garment became stained

with the light scarlet blood.



"Find the drude, Maskull," she said, with a lazy smile. "You had it last

night."



He searched for it. It was hard to locate, for its rays had grown dull

and feeble in the sunlight, but at last he found it. Oceaxe placed it in

the interior of the monster, and left the body lying on the ground.



"While it's cooking, I'll wash some of this blood away, which frightens

you so much. Have you never seen blood before?"



Maskull gazed at her in perplexity. The old paradox came back--the

contrasting sexual characteristics in her person. Her bold, masterful,

masculine egotism of manner seemed quite incongruous with the

fascinating and disturbing femininity of her voice. A startling idea

flashed into his mind.



"In your country I'm told there is an act of will called 'absorbing.'

What is that?"



She held her red, dripping hands away from her draperies, and uttered a

delicious, clashing laugh. "You think I am half a man?"



"Answer my question."



"I'm a woman through and through, Maskull--to the marrowbone. But that's

not to say I have never absorbed males."



"And that means..."



"New strings for my harp, Maskull. A wider range of passions, a stormier

heart..."



"For you, yes--But for them?..."



"I don't know. The victims don't describe their experiences. Probably

unhappiness of some sort--if they still know anything."



"This is a fearful business!" he exclaimed, regarding her gloomily. "One

would think Ifdawn a land of devils."



Oceaxe gave a beautiful sneer as she took a step toward the river.

"Better men than you--better in every sense of the word--are walking

about with foreign wills inside them. You may be as moral as you like,

Maskull, but the fact remains, animals were made to be eaten, and simple

natures were made to be absorbed."



"And human rights count for nothing!"



She had bent over the river's edge, to wash her arms and hands, but

glanced up over her shoulder to answer his remark. "They do count. But

we only regard a man as human for just as long as he's able to hold his

own with others."



The flesh was soon cooked, and they breakfasted in silence. Maskull cast

heavy, doubtful glances from time to time toward his companion.

Whether it was due to the strange quality of the food, or to his long

abstention, he did not know, but the meal tasted nauseous, and even

cannibalistic. He ate little, and the moment he got up he felt defiled.



"Let me bury this drude, where I can find it some other time," said

Oceaxe. "On the next occasion, though, I shall have no Maskull with me,

to shock.... Now we have to take to the river."



They stepped off the land onto the water. It flowed against them with a

sluggish current, but the opposition, instead of hindering them, had

the contrary effect--it caused them to exert themselves, and they

moved faster. They climbed the river in this way for several miles. The

exercise gradually improved the circulation of Maskull's blood, and

he began to look at things in a far more way. The hot sunshine, the

diminished wind, the cheerful marvellous cloud scenery, the quiet,

crystal forests--all was soothing and delightful. They approached nearer

and nearer to the gaily painted heights of Ifdawn.



There was something enigmatic to him in those bright walls. He was

attracted by them, yet felt a sort of awe. They looked real, but at the

same time very supernatural. If one could see the portrait of a ghost,

painted with a hard, firm outline, in substantial colors, the feelings

produced by such a sight would be exactly similar to Maskull's

impressions as he studied the Ifdawn precipices.





He broke the long silence. "Those mountains have most extraordinary

shapes. All the lines are straight and perpendicular--no slopes or

curves."



She walked backward on the water, in order to face him. "That's

typical of Ifdawn. Nature is all hammer blows with us. Nothing soft and

gradual."



"I hear you, but I don't understand you."



"All over the Marest you'll find patches of ground plunging down or

rushing up. Trees grow fast. Women and men don't think twice before

acting. One may call Ifdawn a place of quick decisions."



Maskull was impressed. "A fresh, wild, primitive land."



"How is it where you come from?" asked Oceaxe.



"Oh, mine is a decrepit world, where nature takes a hundred years

to move a foot of solid land. Men and animals go about in flocks.

Originality is a lost habit."



"Are there women there?"



"As with you, and not very differently formed."



"Do they love?"



He laughed. "So much so that it has changed the dress, speech, and

thoughts of the whole sex."



"Probably they are more beautiful than I?"



"No, I think not," said Maskull.



There was another rather long silence, as they travelled unsteadily

onward.



"What is your business in Ifdawn?" demanded Oceaxe suddenly.



He hesitated over his answer. "Can you grasp that it's possible to have

an aim right in front of one, so big that one can't see it as a whole?"



She stole a long, inquisitive look at him, "What sort of aim?"



"A moral aim."



"Are you proposing to set the world right?"



"I propose nothing--I am waiting."



"Don't wait too long, for time doesn't wait--especially in Ifdawn."



"Something will happen," said Maskull.



Oceaxe threw a subtle smile. "So you have no special destination in the

Marest?"



"No, and if you'll permit me, I will come home with you."



"Singular man!" she said, with a short, thrilling laugh. "That's what I

have been offering all the time. Of course you will come home with me.

As for Crimtyphon..."



"You mentioned that name before. Who is he?"



"Oh! My lover, or, as you would say, my husband."



"This doesn't improve matters," said Maskull.



"It leaves them exactly where they were. We merely have to remove him."



"We are certainly misunderstanding each other," said Maskull, quite

startled. "Do you by any chance imagine that I am making a compact with

you?"



"You will do nothing against your will. But you have promised to come

home with me."



"Tell me, how do you remove husbands in Ifdawn?"



"Either you or I must kill him."



He eyed her for a full minute. "Now we are passing from folly to

insanity."



"Not at all," replied Oceaxe. "It is the too-sad truth. And when you

have seen Crimtyphon, you will realise it."



"I'm aware I am on a strange planet," said Maskull slowly, "where

all sorts of unheard of things may happen, and where the very laws of

morality may be different. Still as far as I am concerned, murder is

murder, and I'll have no more to do with a woman who wants to make use

of me, to get rid of her husband."



"You think me wicked?" demanded Oceaxe steadily.



"Or mad."



"Then you had better leave me, Maskull--only--"



"Only what?"



"You wish to be consistent, don't you? Leave all other mad and wicked

people as well. Then you'll find it easier to reform the rest."



Maskull frowned, but said nothing.



"Well?" demanded Oceaxe, with a half smile.



"I'll come with you, and I'll see Crimtyphon--if only to warn him."



Oceaxe broke into a cascade of rich, feminine laughter, but whether at

the image conjured up by Maskull's last words, or from some other cause,

he did not know. The conversation dropped.



At a distance of a couple of miles from the now towering cliffs, the

river made a sharp, right-angled turn to the west, and was no longer of

use to them on their journey. Maskull stared up doubtfully.



"It's a stiff climb for a hot morning."



"Let's rest here a little," said she, indicating a smooth flat island

of black rock, standing up just out of the water in the middle of the

river.



They accordingly went to it, and Maskull sat down. Oceaxe, however,

standing graceful and erect, turned her face toward the cliffs opposite,

and uttered a piercing and peculiar call.



"What is that for?" She did not answer. After waiting a minute, she

repeated the call. Maskull now saw a large bird detach itself from the

top of one of the precipices, and sail slowly down toward them. It was

followed by two others. The flight of these birds was exceedingly slow

and clumsy.



"What are they?" he asked.



She still returned no answer, but smiled rather peculiarly and sat down

beside him. Before many minutes he was able to distinguish the shapes

and colors of the flying monsters. They were not birds, but creatures

with long, snakelike bodies, and ten reptilian legs apiece, terminating

in fins which acted as wings. The bodies were of bright blue, the legs

and fins were yellow. They were flying, without haste, but in a somewhat

ominous fashion, straight toward them. He could make out a long, thin

spike projecting from each of the heads.



"They are shrowks," explained Oceaxe at last. "If you want to know

their intention, I'll tell you. To make a meal of us. First of all their

spikes will pierce us, and then their mouths, which are really suckers,

will drain us dry of blood--pretty thoroughly too; there are no half

measures with shrowks. They are toothless beasts, so don't eat flesh."



"As you show such admirable sangfroid," said Maskull dryly, "I take it

there's no particular danger."



Nevertheless he instinctively tried to get on to his feet and failed. A

new form of paralysis was chaining him to the ground.



"Are you trying to get up?" asked Oceaxe smoothly.



"Well, yes, but those cursed reptiles seem to be nailing me down to the

rock with their wills. May I ask if you had any special object in view

in waking them up?"



"I assure you the danger is quite real, Maskull. Instead of talking

and asking questions, you had much better see what you can do with your

will."



"I seem to have no will, unfortunately."



Oceaxe was seized with a paroxysm of laughter, but it was still rich and

beautiful. "It's obvious you aren't a very heroic protector, Maskull. It

seems I must play the man, and you the woman. I expected better things

of your big body. Why, my husband would send those creatures dancing all

around the sky, by way of a joke, before disposing of them. Now watch

me.. Two of the three I'll kill; the third we will ride home on. Which

one shall we keep?"



The shrowks continued their slow, wobbling flight toward them. Their

bodies were of huge size. They produced in Maskull the same sensation of

loathing as insects did. He instinctively understood that as they hunted

with their wills, there was no necessity for them to possess a swift

motion.



"Choose which you please," he said shortly. "They are equally

objectionable to me."



"Then I'll choose the leader, as it is presumably the most energetic

animal. Watch now."



She stood upright, and her sorb suddenly blazed with fire. Maskull felt

something snap inside his brain. His limbs were free once more. The

two monsters in the rear staggered and darted head foremost toward the

earth, one after the other. He watched them crash on the ground, and

then lie motionless. The leader still came toward them, but he fancied

that its flight was altered in character; it was no longer menacing, but

tame and unwilling.



Oceaxe guided it with her will to the mainland shore opposite their

island rock. Its vast bulk lay there extended, awaiting her pleasure.

They immediately crossed the water.



Maskull viewed the shrowk at close quarters. It was about thirty feet

long. Its bright-coloured skin was shining, slippery, and leathery;

a mane of black hair covered its long neck. Its face was awesome

and unnatural, with its carnivorous eyes, frightful stiletto, and

blood-sucking cavity. There were true fins on its back and tail.



"Have you a good seat?" asked Oceaxe, patting the creature's flank. "As

I have to steer, let me jump on first."



She pulled up her gown, then climbed up and sat astride the animal's

back, just behind the mane, which she clutched. Between her and the

fin there was just room for Maskull. He grasped the two flanks with his

outer hands; his third, new arm pressed against Oceaxe's back, and for

additional security he was compelled to encircle her waist with it.



Directly he did so, he realised that he had been tricked, and that this

ride had been planned for one purpose only--to inflame his desires.



The third arm possessed a function of its own, of which hitherto he had

been ignorant. It was a developed magn. But the stream of love which

was communicated to it was no longer pure and noble--it was boiling,

passionate, and torturing. He gritted his teeth, and kept quiet, but

Oceaxe had not plotted the adventure to remain unconscious of his

feelings. She looked around, with a golden, triumphant smile. "The ride

will last some time, so hold on well!" Her voice was soft like a flute,

but rather malicious.



Maskull grinned, and said nothing. He dared not remove his arm.



The shrowk straddled on to its legs. It jerked itself forward, and rose

slowly and uncouthly in the air. They began to paddle upward toward

the painted cliffs. The motion was swaying, rocking, and sickening; the

contact of the brute's slimy skin was disgusting. All this, however, was

merely, background to Maskull, as he sat there with closed eyes, holding

on to Oceaxe. In the front and centre of his consciousness was the

knowledge that he was gripping a fair woman, and that her flesh was

responding to his touch like a lovely harp.



They climbed up and up. He opened his eyes, and ventured to look around

him. By this time they were already level with the top of the outer

rampart of precipices. There now came in sight a wild archipelago of

islands, with jagged outlines, emerging from a sea of air. The islands

were mountain summits; or, more accurately speaking, the country was a

high tableland, fissured everywhere by narrow and apparently bottomless

cracks. These cracks were in some cases like canals, in others like

lakes, in others merely holes in the ground, closed in all round. The

perpendicular sides of the islands--that is, the upper, visible parts

of the innumerable cliff faces--were of bare rock, gaudily coloured; but

the level surfaces were a tangle of wild plant life. The taller

trees alone were distinguishable from the shrowk's back. They were

of different shapes, and did not look ancient; they were slender and

swaying but did not appear very graceful; they looked tough, wiry, and

savage.



As Maskull continued to explore the landscape, he forgot Oceaxe and his

passion. Other strange feelings came to the front. The morning was gay

and bright. The sun scorched down, quickly-changing clouds sailed across

the sky, the earth was vivid, wild, and lonely. Yet he experienced no

aesthetic sensations--he felt nothing but an intense longing for action

and possession. When he looked at anything, he immediately wanted to

deal with it. The atmosphere of the land seemed not free, but sticky;

attraction and repulsion were its constituents. Apart from this wish to

play a personal part in what was going on around and beneath him, the

scenery had no significance for him.



So preoccupied was he, that his arm partly released its clasp. Oceaxe

turned around to gaze at him. Whether or not she was satisfied with what

she saw, she uttered a low laugh, like a peculiar chord.



"Cold again so quickly, Maskull?"



"What do you want?" he asked absently, still looking over the side.

"It's extraordinary how drawn I feel to all this."



"You wish to take a hand?"



"I wish to get down."



"Oh, we have a good way to go yet.... So you really feel different?"



"Different from what? What are you talking about?" said Maskull, still

lost in abstraction.



Oceaxe laughed again. "It would be strange if we couldn't make a man of

you, for the material is excellent."



After that, she turned her back once more.



The air islands differed from water islands in another way. They were

not on a plane surface, but sloped upward, like a succession of broken

terraces, as the journey progressed. The shrowk had hitherto been flying

well above the ground; but now, when a new line of towering cliffs

confronted them, Oceaxe did not urge the beast upward, but caused it to

enter a narrow canyon, which intersected the mountains like a channel.

They were instantly plunged into deep shade. The canal was not above

thirty feet wide; the walls stretched upward on both sides for many

hundred feet. It was as cool as an ice chamber. When Maskull attempted

to plumb the chasm with his eyes, he saw nothing but black obscurity.



"What is at the bottom?" he asked.



"Death for you, if you go to look for it."



"We know that. I mean, is there any kind of life down there?"



"Not that I have ever heard of," said Oceaxe, "but of course all things

are possible."



"I think very likely there is life," he returned thoughtfully.



Her ironical laugh sounded out of the gloom. "Shall we go down and see?"



"You find that amusing?"



"No, not that. What I do find amusing is the big stranger with the

beard, who is so keenly interested in everything except himself."



Maskull then laughed too. "I happen to be the only thing in Tormance

which is not a novelty for me."



"Yes, but I am a novelty for you."



The channel went zigzagging its way through the belly of the mountain,

and all the time they were gradually rising.



"At least I have heard nothing like your voice before," said Maskull,

who, since he had no longer anything to look at, was at last ready for

conversation.



"What's the matter with my voice?"



"It's all that I can distinguish of you now; that's why I mentioned it."



"Isn't it clear--don't I speak distinctly?"



"Oh, it's clear enough, but--it's inappropriate."



"Inappropriate?"



"I won't explain further," said Maskull, "but whether you are speaking

or laughing, your voice is by far the loveliest and strangest instrument

I have ever listened to. And yet I repeat, it is inappropriate."



"You mean that my nature doesn't correspond?"



He was just considering his reply, when their talk was abruptly broken

off by a huge and terrifying, but not very loud sound rising up from the

gulf directly underneath them. It was a low, grinding, roaring thunder.



"The ground is rising under us!" cried Oceaxe.



"Shall we escape?"



She made no answer, but urged the shrowk's flight upward, at such a

steep gradient that they retained their seats with difficulty. The floor

of the canyon, upheaved by some mighty subterranean force, could be

heard, and almost felt, coming up after them, like a gigantic landslip

in the wrong direction. The cliffs cracked, and fragments began to fall.

A hundred awful noises filled the air, growing louder and louder each

second--splitting, hissing, cracking, grinding, booming, exploding,

roaring. When they had still fifty feet or so to go, to reach the top,

a sort of dark, indefinite sea of broken rocks and soil appeared under

their feet, ascending rapidly, with irresistible might, accompanied by

the most horrible noises. The canal was filled up for two hundred yards,

before and behind them. Millions of tons of solid matter seemed to be

raised. The shrowk in its ascent was caught by the uplifted debris.

Beast and riders experienced in that moment all the horrors of an

earthquake--they were rolled violently over, and thrown among the rocks

and dirt. All was thunder, instability, motion, confusion.



Before they had time to realise their position, they were in the

sunlight. The upheaval still continued. In another minute or two the

valley floor had formed a new mountain, a hundred feet or more higher

than the old. Then its movement ceased suddenly. Every noise stopped, as

if by magic; not a rock moved. Oceaxe and Maskull picked themselves

up and examined themselves for cuts and bruises. The shrowk lay on its

side, panting violently, and sweating with fright.



"That was a nasty affair," said Maskull, flicking the dirt off his

person.



Oceaxe staunched a cut on her chin with a corner of her robe.



"It might have been far worse.... I mean, it's bad enough to come up,

but it's death to go down, and that happens just as often."



"Whatever induces you to live in such a country?"



"I don't know, Maskull. Habit, I suppose. I have often thought of moving

out of it."



"A good deal must be forgiven you for having to spend your life in a

place like this, where one is obviously never safe from one minute to

another."



"You will learn by degrees," she answered, smiling.



She looked hard at the monster, and it got heavily to its feet.



"Get on again, Maskull!" she directed, climbing back to her perch. "We

haven't too much time to waste."



He obeyed. They resumed their interrupted flight, this time over the

mountains, and in full sunlight. Maskull settled down again to his

thoughts. The peculiar atmosphere of the country continued to soak into

his brain. His will became so restless and uneasy that merely to sit

there in inactivity was a torture. He could scarcely endure not to be

doing something.



"How secretive you are, Maskull!" said Oceaxe quietly, without turning

her head.



"What secrets--what do you mean?"



"Oh, I know perfectly well what's passing inside you. Now I think it

wouldn't be amiss to ask you--is friendship still enough?"



"Oh, don't ask me anything," growled Maskull. "I've far too many

problems in my head already. I only wish I could answer some of them."



He stared stonily at the landscape. The beast was winging its way

toward a distant mountain, of singular shape. It was an enormous natural

quadrilateral pyramid, rising in great terraces and terminating in a

broad, flat top, on which what looked like green snow still lingered.



"What mountain is that?" he asked.



"Disscourn. The highest point in Ifdawn."



"Are we going there?"



"Why should we go there? But if you were going on farther, it might be

worth your while to pay a visit to the top. It commands the whole land

as far as the Sinking Sea and Swaylone's Island--and beyond. You can

also see Alppain from it."



"That's a sight I mean to see before I have finished."



"Do you, Maskull?" She turned around and put her hand on his wrist.

"Stay with me, and one day we'll go to Disscourn together."



He grunted unintelligibly.



There were no signs of human existence in the country under their feet.

While Maskull was still grimly regarding it, a large tract of forest not

far ahead, bearing many trees and rocks, suddenly subsided with an awful

roar and crashed down into an invisible gulf. What was solid land one

minute became a clean-cut chasm the next. He jumped violently up with

the shock. "This is frightful."



Oceaxe remained unmoved.



"Why, life here must be absolutely impossible," he went on, when he had

somewhat recovered himself. "A man would need nerves of steel.... Is

there no means at all of foreseeing a catastrophe like this?"



"Oh, I suppose we wouldn't be alive if there weren't," replied Oceaxe,

with composure. "We are more or less clever at it--but that doesn't

prevent our often getting caught."



"You had better teach me the signs."



"We'll have many things to go over together. And among them, I expect,

will be whether we are to stay in the land at all.... But first let us

get home."



"How far is it now?"



"It is right in front of you," said Oceaxe, pointing with her

forefinger. "You can see it."



He followed the direction of the finger and, after a few questions, made

out the spot she was indicating. It was a broad peninsula, about two

miles distant. Three of its sides rose sheer out of a lake of air, the

bottom of which was invisible; its fourth was a bottleneck, joining it

to the mainland. It was overgrown with bright vegetation, distinct in

the brilliant atmosphere. A single tall tree, shooting up in the middle

of the peninsula, dwarfed everything else; it was wide and shady with

sea-green leaves.



"I wonder if Crimtyphon is there," remarked Oceaxe. "Can I see two

figures, or am I mistaken?"



"I also see something," said Maskull.



In twenty minutes they were directly above the peninsula, at a height of

about fifty feet. The shrowk slackened speed, and came to earth on

the mainland, exactly at the gateway of the isthmus. They both

descended--Maskull with aching thighs.



"What shall we do with the monster?" asked Oceaxe. Without waiting for a

suggestion, she patted its hideous face with her hand. "Fly away home! I

may want you some other time."



It gave a stupid grunt, elevated itself on its legs again, and, after

half running, half flying for a few yards, rose awkwardly into the air,

and paddled away in the same direction from which they had come. They

watched it out of sight, and then Oceaxe started to cross the neck of

land, followed by Maskull.



Branchspell's white rays beat down on them with pitiless force. The sky

had by degrees become cloudless, and the wind had dropped entirely. The

ground was a rich riot of vividly coloured ferns, shrubs, and grasses.

Through these could be seen here and there the golden chalky soil--and

occasionally a glittering, white metallic boulder. Everything looked

extraordinary and barbaric. Maskull was at last walking in the weird

Ifdawn Marest which had created such strange feelings in him when seen

from a distance.... And now he felt no wonder or curiosity at all, but

only desired to meet human beings--so intense had grown his will. He

longed to test his powers on his fellow creatures, and nothing else

seemed of the least importance to him.



On the peninsula all was coolness and delicate shade. It resembled a

large copse, about two acres in extent. In the heart of the tangle of

small trees and undergrowth was a partially cleared space--perhaps the

roots of the giant tree growing in the centre had killed off the smaller

fry all around it. By the side of the tree sparkled a little, bubbling

fountain, whose water was iron-red. The precipices on all sides,

overhung with thorns, flowers, and creepers, invested the enclosure with

an air of wild and charming seclusion--a mythological mountain god might

have dwelt here.



Maskull's restless eye left everything, to fall on the two men who

formed the centre of the picture.



One was reclining, in the ancient Grecian fashion of banqueters on a

tall couch of mosses, sprinkled with flowers; he rested on one arm, and

was eating a kind of plum, with calm enjoyment. A pile of these plums

lay on the couch beside him. The over-spreading branches of the tree

completely sheltered him from the sun. His small, boyish form was clad

in a rough skin, leaving his limbs naked. Maskull could not tell from

his face whether he were a young boy or a grown man. The features were

smooth, soft, and childish, their expression was seraphically tranquil;

but his violet upper eye was sinister and adult. His skin was of the

colour of yellow ivory. His long, curling hair matched his sorb--it was

violet. The second man was standing erect before the other, a few feet

away from him. He was short and muscular, his face was broad, bearded,

and rather commonplace, but there was something terrible about his

appearance. The features were distorted by a deep-seated look of pain,

despair, and horror.



Oceaxe, without pausing, strolled lightly and lazily up to the outermost

shadows of the tree, some distance from the couch.



"We have met with an uplift," she remarked carelessly, looking toward

the youth.



He eyed her, but said nothing.



"How is your plant man getting on?" Her tone was artificial but

extremely beautiful. While waiting for an answer, she sat down on the

ground, her legs gracefully thrust under her body, and pulled down

the skirt of her robe. Maskull remained standing just behind her, with

crossed arms.



There was silence for a minute.



"Why don't you answer your mistress, Sature?" said the boy on the couch,

in a calm, treble voice.



The man addressed did not alter his expression, but replied in a

strangled tone, "I am getting on very well, Oceaxe. There are already

buds on my feet. Tomorrow I hope to take root."



Maskull felt a rising storm inside him. He was perfectly aware that

although these words were uttered by Sature, they were being dictated by

the boy.



"What he says is quite true," remarked the latter. "Tomorrow roots will

reach the ground, and in a few days they ought to be well established.

Then I shall set to work to convert his arms into branches, and his

fingers into leaves. It will take longer to transform his head into

a crown, but still I hope--in fact I can almost promise that within a

month you and I, Oceaxe, will be plucking and enjoying fruit from this

new and remarkable tree."



"I love these natural experiments," he concluded, putting out his hand

for another plum. "They thrill me."



"This must be a joke," said Maskull, taking a step forward.



The youth looked at him serenely. He made no reply, but Maskull felt as

if he were being thrust backward by an iron hand on his throat.



"The morning's work is now concluded, Sature. Come here again after

Blodsombre. After tonight you will remain here permanently, I expect,

so you had better set to work to clear a patch of ground for your roots.

Never forget--however fresh and charming these plants appear to you now,

in the future they will be your deadliest rivals and enemies. Now you

may go."



The man limped painfully away, across the isthmus, out of sight. Oceaxe

yawned.



Maskull pushed his way forward, as if against a wall. "Are you joking,

or are you a devil?"



"I am Crimtyphon. I never joke. For that epithet of yours, I will devise

a new punishment for you."



The duel of wills commenced without ceremony. Oceaxe got up, stretched

her beautiful limbs, smiled, and prepared herself to witness the

struggle between her old lover and her new. Crimtyphon smiled too;

he reached out his hand for more fruit, but did not eat it. Maskull's

self-control broke down and he dashed at the boy, choking with red

fury--his beard wagged and his face was crimson. When he realised with

whom he had to deal, Crimtyphon left off smiling, slipped off the

couch, and threw a terrible and malignant glare into his sorb. Maskull

staggered. He gathered together all the brute force of his will, and by

sheer weight continued his advance. The boy shrieked and ran behind the

couch, trying to get away.... His opposition suddenly collapsed. Maskull

stumbled forward, recovered himself, and then vaulted clear over the

high pile of mosses, to get at his antagonist. He fell on top of him

with all his bulk. Grasping his throat, he pulled his little head

completely around, so that the neck was broken. Crimtyphon immediately

died.



The corpse lay underneath the tree with its face upturned. Maskull

viewed it attentively, and as he did so an expression of awe and wonder

came into his own countenance. In the moment of death Crimtyphon's face

had undergone a startling and even shocking alteration. Its personal

character had wholly vanished, giving place to a vulgar, grinning mask

which expressed nothing.



He did not have to search his mind long, to remember where he had seen

the brother of that expression. It was identical with that on the face

of the apparition at the seance, after Krag had dealt with it.



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