The Meeting Of Titans

: The Moon Pool

It is not my intention, nor is it possible no matter how interesting

to me, to set down ad seriatim the happenings of the next twelve

hours. But a few will not be denied recital.



O'Keefe regained cheerfulness.



"After all, Doc," he said to me, "it's a beautiful scrap we're going

to have. At the worst the worst is no more than the leprechaun warned

about. I would have told the Taitha De about he banshee raid he

promised me; but I was a bit taken off my feet at the time. The old

girl an' all the clan'll be along, said the little green man, an' I

bet the Three will be damned glad of it, take it from me."



Lakla, shining-eyed and half fearful too:



"I have other tidings that I am afraid will please you little,

Larry--darlin'. The Silent Ones say that you must not go into battle

yourself. You must stay here with me, and with Goodwin--for

if--if--the Shining One does come, then must we be here to meet it.

And you might not be, you know, Larry, if you fight," she said,

looking shyly up at him from under the long lashes.



The O'Keefe's jaw dropped.



"That's about the hardest yet," he answered slowly. "Still--I see

their point; the lamb corralled for the altar has no right to stray

out among the lions," he added grimly. "Don't worry, sweet," he told

her. "As long as I've sat in the game I'll stick to the rules."



Olaf took fierce joy in the coming fray. "The Norns spin close to the

end of this web," he rumbled. "Ja! And the threads of Lugur and the

Heks woman are between their fingers for the breaking! Thor will be

with me, and I have fashioned me a hammer in glory of Thor." In his

hand was an enormous mace of black metal, fully five feet long,

crowned with a massive head.



I pass to the twelve hours' closing.



At the end of the coria road where the giant fernland met the edge

of the cavern's ruby floor, hundreds of the Akka were stationed in

ambush, armed with their spears tipped with the rotting death and

their nail-studded, metal-headed clubs. These were to attack when the

Murians debauched from the corials. We had little hope of doing more

here than effect some attrition of Yolara's hosts, for at this place

the captains of the Shining One could wield the Keth and their other

uncanny weapons freely. We had learned, too, that every forge and

artisan had been put to work to make an armour Marakinoff had devised

to withstand the natural battle equipment of the frog-people--and both

Larry and I had a disquieting faith in the Russian's ingenuity.



At any rate the numbers against us would be lessened.



Next, under the direction of the frog-king, levies commanded by

subsidiary chieftains had completed rows of rough walls along the

probable route of the Murians through the cavern. These afforded the

Akka a fair protection behind which they could hurl their darts and

spears--curiously enough they had never developed the bow as a weapon.



At the opening of the cavern a strong barricade stretched almost to

the two ends of the crescent strand; almost, I say, because there had

not been time to build it entirely across the mouth.



And from edge to edge of the titanic bridge, from where it sprang

outward at the shore of the Crimson Sea to a hundred feet away from

the golden door of the abode, barrier after barrier was piled.



Behind the wall defending the mouth of the cavern, waited other

thousands of the Akka. At each end of the unfinished barricade they

were mustered thickly, and at right and left of the crescent where

their forest began, more legions were assembled to make way up to the

ledge as opportunity offered.



Rank upon rank they manned the bridge barriers; they swarmed over the

pinnacles and in the hollows of the island's ragged outer lip; the

domed castle was a hive of them, if I may mix my metaphors--and the

rocks and gardens that surrounded the abode glittered with them.



"Now," said the handmaiden, "there's nothing else we can do--save

wait."



She led us out through her bower and up the little path that ran to

the embrasure.



Through the quiet came a sound, a sighing, a half-mournful whispering

that beat about us and fled away.



"They come!" cried Lakla, the light of battle in her eyes. Larry drew

her to him, raised her in his arms, kissed her.



"A woman!" acclaimed the O'Keefe. "A real woman--and mine!"



With the cry of the Portal there was movement among the Akka, the

glint of moving spears, flash of metal-tipped clubs, rattle of horny

spurs, rumblings of battle-cries.



And we waited--waited it seemed interminably, gaze fastened upon the

low wall across the cavern mouth. Suddenly I remembered the crystal

through which I had peered when the hidden assassins had crept upon

us. Mentioning it to Lakla, she gave a little cry of vexation, a

command to her attendant; and not long that faithful if unusual lady

had returned with a tray of the glasses. Raising mine, I saw the lines

furthest away leap into sudden activity. Spurred warrior after warrior

leaped upon the barricade and over it. Flashes of intense, green

light, mingled with gleams like lightning strokes of concentrated moon

rays, sprang from behind the wall--sprang and struck and burned upon

the scales of the batrachians.



"They come!" whispered Lakla.



At the far ends of the crescent a terrific milling had begun. Here it

was plain the Akka were holding. Faintly, for the distance was

great, I could see fresh force upon force rush up and take the places

of those who had fallen.



Over each of these ends, and along the whole line of the barricade a

mist of dancing, diamonded atoms began to rise; sparking, coruscating

points of diamond dust that darted and danced.



What had once been Lakla's guardians--dancing now in the nothingness!



"God, but it's hard to stay here like this!" groaned the O'Keefe;

Olaf's teeth were bared, the lips drawn back in such a fighting grin

as his ancestors berserk on their raven ships must have borne; Rador

was livid with rage; the handmaiden's nostrils flaring wide, all her

wrathful soul in her eyes.



Suddenly, while we looked, the rocky wall which the Akka had built

at the cavern mouth--was not! It vanished, as though an unseen,

unbelievably gigantic hand had with the lightning's speed swept it

away. And with it vanished, too, long lines of the great amphibians

close behind it.



Then down upon the ledge, dropping into the Crimson Sea, sending up

geysers of ruby spray, dashing on the bridge, crushing the frog-men,

fell a shower of stone, mingled with distorted shapes and fragments

whose scales still flashed meteoric as they hurled from above.



"That which makes things fall upward," hissed Olaf. "That which I saw

in the garden of Lugur!"



The fiendish agency of destruction which Marakinoff had revealed to

Larry; the force that cut off gravitation and sent all things within

its range racing outward into space!



And now over the debris upon the ledge, striking with long sword and

daggers, here and there a captain flashing the green ray, moving on in

ordered squares, came the soldiers of the Shining One. Nearer and

nearer the verge of the ledge they pushed Nak's warriors. Leaping upon

the dwarfs, smiting them with spear and club, with teeth and spur, the

Akka fought like devils. Quivering under the ray, they leaped and

dragged down and slew.



Now there was but one long line of the frog-men at the very edge of

the cliff.



And ever the clouds of dancing, diamonded atoms grew thicker over them

all!



That last thin line of the Akka was going; yet they fought to the

last, and none toppled over the lip without at least one of the

armoured Murians in his arms.



My gaze dropped to the foot of the cliffs. Stretched along their

length was a wide ribbon of beauty--a shimmering multitude of

gleaming, pulsing, prismatic moons; glowing, glowing ever brighter,

ever more wondrous--the gigantic Medusae globes feasting on dwarf and

frog-man alike!



Across the waters, faintly, came a triumphant shouting from Lugur's

and Yolara's men!



Was the ruddy light of the place lessening, growing paler, changing to

a faint rose? There was an exclamation from Larry; something like hope

relaxed the drawn muscles of his face. He pointed to the aureate dome

wherein sat the Three--and then I saw!



Out of it, through the long transverse slit through which the Silent

Ones kept their watch on cavern, bridge, and abyss, a torrent of the

opalescent light was pouring. It cascaded like a waterfall, and as it

flowed it spread whirling out, in columns and eddies, clouds and wisps

of misty, curdled coruscations. It hung like a veil over all the

islands, filtering everywhere, driving back the crimson light as

though possessed of impenetrable substance--and still it cast not the

faintest shadowing upon our vision.



"Good God!" breathed Larry. "Look!"



The radiance was marching--marching--down the colossal bridge. It

moved swiftly, in some unthinkable way intelligently. It swathed the

Akka, and closer, ever closer it swept toward the approach upon

which Yolara's men had now gained foothold.



From their ranks came flash after flash of the green ray--aimed at

the abode! But as the light sped and struck the opalescence it was

blotted out! The shimmering mists seemed to enfold, to dissipate it.



Lakla drew a deep breath.



"The Silent Ones forgive me for doubting them," she whispered; and

again hope blossomed on her face even as it did on Larry's.



The frog-men were gaining. Clothed in the armour of that mist, they

pressed back from the bridge-head the invaders. There was another

prodigious movement at the ends of the crescent, and racing up,

pressing against the dwarfs, came other legions of Nak's warriors. And

re-enforcing those out on the prodigious arch, the frog-men stationed

in the gardens below us poured back to the castle and out through the

open Portal.



"They're licked!" shouted Larry. "They're--"



So quickly I could not follow the movement his automatic leaped to his

hand--spoke, once and again and again. Rador leaped to the head of the

little path, sword in hand; Olaf, shouting and whirling his mace,

followed. I strove to get my own gun quickly.



For up that path were running twoscore of Lugur's men, while from

below Lugur's own voice roared.



"Quick! Slay not the handmaiden or her lover! Carry them down.

Quick! But slay the others!"



The handmaiden raced toward Larry, stopped, whistled shrilly--again

and again. Larry's pistol was empty, but as the dwarfs rushed upon him

I dropped two of them with mine. It jammed--I could not use it; I

sprang to his side. Rador was down, struggling in a heap of Lugur's

men. Olaf, a Viking of old, was whirling his great hammer, and

striking, striking through armour, flesh, and bone.



Larry was down, Lakla flew to him. But the Norseman, now streaming

blood from a dozen wounds, caught a glimpse of her coming, turned,

thrust out a mighty hand, sent her reeling back, and then with his

hammer cracked the skulls of those trying to drag the O'Keefe down the

path.



A cry from Lakla--the dwarfs had seized her, had lifted her despite

her struggles, were carrying her away. One I dropped with the butt of

my useless pistol, and then went down myself under the rush of

another.



Through the clamour I heard a booming of the Akka, closer, closer;

then through it the bellow of Lugur. I made a mighty effort, swung a

hand up, and sunk my fingers in the throat of the soldier striving to

kill me. Writhing over him, my fingers touched a poniard; I thrust it

deep, staggered to my feet.



The O'Keefe, shielding Lakla, was battling with a long sword against a

half dozen of the soldiers. I started toward him, was struck, and

under the impact hurled to the ground. Dizzily I raised myself--and

leaning upon my elbow, stared and moved no more. For the dwarfs lay

dead, and Larry, holding Lakla tightly, was staring even as I, and

ranged at the head of the path were the Akka, whose booming advance

in obedience to the handmaiden's call I had heard.



And at what we all stared was Olaf, crimson with his wounds, and

Lugur, in blood-red armour, locked in each other's grip, struggling,

smiting, tearing, kicking, and swaying about the little space before

the embrasure. I crawled over toward the O'Keefe. He raised his

pistol, dropped it.



"Can't hit him without hitting Olaf," he whispered. Lakla signalled

the frog-men; they advanced toward the two--but Olaf saw them, broke

the red dwarf's hold, sent Lugur reeling a dozen feet away.



"No!" shouted the Norseman, the ice of his pale-blue eyes glinting

like frozen flames, blood streaming down his face and dripping from

his hands. "No! Lugur is mine! None but me slays him! Ho, you Lugur--"

and cursed him and Yolara and the Dweller hideously--I cannot set

those curses down here.



They spurred Lugur. Mad now as the Norseman, the red dwarf sprang.

Olaf struck a blow that would have killed an ordinary man, but Lugur

only grunted, swept in, and seized him about the waist; one mighty arm

began to creep up toward Huldricksson's throat.



"'Ware, Olaf!" cried O'Keefe; but Olaf did not answer. He waited until

the red dwarf's hand was close to his shoulder; and then, with an

incredibly rapid movement--once before had I seen something like it

in a wrestling match between Papuans--he had twisted Lugur around;

twisted him so that Olaf's right arm lay across the tremendous breast,

the left behind the neck, and Olaf's left leg held the Voice's

armoured thighs viselike against his right knee while over that knee

lay the small of the red dwarf's back.



For a second or two the Norseman looked down upon his enemy,

motionless in that paralyzing grip. And then--slowly--he began to

break him!



Lakla gave a little cry; made a motion toward the two. But Larry drew

her head down against his breast, hiding her eyes; then fastened his

own upon the pair, white-faced, stern.



Slowly, ever so slowly, proceeded Olaf. Twice Lugur moaned. At the

end he screamed--horribly. There was a cracking sound, as of a stout

stick snapped.



Huldricksson stooped, silently. He picked up the limp body of the

Voice, not yet dead, for the eyes rolled, the lips strove to speak;

lifted it, walked to the parapet, swung it twice over his head, and

cast it down to the red waters!