Абрахам Меррит - The Face In The Abyss

"Dorina too, I suppose?" he asked.

"Naturally," said Regor, placidly.

"She looks very like Suarra," hazarded Graydon. "She might be her sister."

"Oh, no," said Regor. "Let me see—she was, I believe, the sister of Suarra's grandmother—yes, or her great–grandmother. Something like that, at any rate."

Graydon glared at him suspiciously. Was Regor after all making game of him?

"A sort of an aunt," he observed, sarcastically.

"You might say so," agreed Regor.

"Hell!" shouted Graydon, in utter exasperation, and brought down his fist on the table with a crash. Regor looked startled, then chuckled.

"What does it matter?" he asked. "One of your day–old babes, if it had the brain to think, would probably consider you an ancient as you do me. But it would accept it as natural. All these things are comparative. And if our ages offend you," he added, unctuously, "be thankful that it is Dorina who is Suarra's great–grandmother's sister, and not the other way about."

Graydon laughed; this was comforting common sense after all. And yet— Suarra centuries old, perhaps! Not Primavera, not the fresh young Springtide maid he had thought her! Well, there was no use crying about it. It was so, or it wasn't. And if it were so—still she was Suarra. He thrust the whole matter aside.

"One more question, and I'm ready for yours. None of you thoroughly believed me until I told you of the Face, and what I told you frightened you. Why?"

Now it was Regor who was troubled; his face darkened, then paled, the scars standing out like livid welts.

"And again you are frightened," Graydon said, curiously. "Why?"

"At a Shadow," answered Regor, and with effort. "At an evil Shadow which you have turned to substance. At an ancient tale—which you have turned to truth. Let be—I say no more."

A shadow…the Serpent–woman had spoken of a shadow…linking it with this enemy they called the Dark One…there had been a name…The Shadow of…ah, yes—he had it now.

"You speak," he said, "in riddles. As though I were a child. Do you fear to name this Shadow? Well, I do not—it is the Shadow of Nimir."

Roger's jaw dropped; closed with a snap. He took a menacing step toward Graydon, face hard, eyes bleak, with suspicion.

"You know too much, I think! And knowing, fear too little—"

"Don't be a fool," said Graydon, sharply. "If I knew why you feared, would I ask? I know the name, and that is all—except that he is foe of the Mother. How I came to know it, I will tell you later—after you have answered my question. And with no more riddles."

For a full minute the great man glared at him, then shrugged his shoulders, and sat facing him.

"You shook me," he said, quietly enough. "Of all the Fellowship, I alone, or so I think, know the name of Nimir. It has been forgotten. The Lord of Evil—that name all know. But not the name he bore before—"

He leaned over toward Graydon, laid his hand on his shoulder, and his stern mouth quivered.

"By the Power above us all, I want to believe you, lad!"

"I would not have this hope die!"

Graydon reached up, and pressed the clutching hand. "And by the Power above us all—you can believe, Regor."

Regor nodded, face tranquil once more.

"Thus then it is," he began. "This is the ancient story. That long, long ago Yu–Adanchi was ruled by the Seven Lords and Adana, the Snake Mother. They were not as other men, these Lords. Masters of knowledge, holders of strange secrets, wielders of strange powers. Both death and life they had conquered, holding back death at will, doing as they willed with life. They came to this land with the Mother and her people, age upon age long gone. Through their wisdom, they had ceased to be entirely human—these Lords. Or at least—we would not think them so; though men like us they must once have been.

"There came a time when one of them plotted secretly against the others, scheming to wrest their power from them. Himself, to rule supreme. And not alone in Yu–Atlanchi, but over all earth, all living things his slaves. Himself enthroned. All powerful. God on earth. Slowly, steadily, he armed himself with dread powers unknown to the others.

"When he felt his strength had ripened—he struck. And almost won. And would have won—had it not been for the guile and wisdom of the Mother.

"That Lord was—Nimir.

"They conquered him—but they could not destroy him. Yet by their arts they could fetter him. And this they did, so the ancient story ran, preparing a certain place, and by their arts prisoning him within the rock there.

"Out of that rock they carved a great Face, in the likeness of Nimir's own. It was not in mockery…they had some purpose…but what that purpose might have been…none knows. And by their arts they set in action within that place forces which would keep him bound fast as long as the land—or Nimir—endured. Of fruit of jewels or flowing gold, such as you described, the tale said nothing.

"All this being done, the Six Lords and Adana, the Mother, returned to Yu–Atlanchi. And for long the old peace reigned.

"Time upon time passed. One by one those whose eyes had beheld the Lord of Evil grew weary, and opened the Door of Death. Or opened the Door of Life, brought babes through it, and then passed through the dark portal, that being the price of children in Yu–Atlanchi! So there came a day when in all this hidden land there was none of its people left who knew the whole truth except a handful among the Dream Makers, and who would believe a Dream Maker?

"That war whose stakes had been a world, faded into a legend, a parable.

"Then, not so long ago as time is measured in Yu–Atlanchi, there came the rumor that this evil Lord had reappeared. A Shadow of him rather; a Darkness that whispered; bodiless but seeking a body; promising all things to those who would obey him; whispering, whispering that he was the Lord of Evil. And that the Urd, the lizard–people, were his slaves.

"When first we heard this rumor of the Shadow and its whisperings, we laughed. A Dream Maker has awakened, we said, and some one has believed him. But as the Shadow's following increased, we laughed not so loudly. For cruelty and wickedness grew swiftly, and we realized that whether Lord of Evil or another, there was poison at the roots of the ancient tree of Yu–Atlanchi.

"Of all the six Lords there remained only one, and the Mother and he had long withdrawn from us. We sought audience with the Mother, and she was indifferent. Then Lantlu seized power, and life in the ancient city became intolerable to many of us. Following Huon, we found refuge in these caverns. And ever darker through the years grew the Shadow over Yu–Atlanchi. But still we said—He is not that ancient Lord of Evil!

"And then—you come. And you tell us―'I have seen that secret place! I have looked into the eyes of the Face!'"

Regor arose and paced the room; there were little drops of sweat on his forehead.

"And now we know that the Shadow has not lied, and that it and the Lord of Evil are one. That he has found means of partial escape, and that once again embodied, as he seeks to be, will have power to break all his bonds, find full release, and rule here and in time over earth, as ages ago he was balked from doing."

Again he took up his restless pacing, and again halted, facing Graydon.

"We fear, but it is not death we fear," he said, and it was like an echo of Suarra. "It is something infinitely worse than any death could ever be. We fear to live—in such shapes and ways as this Lord of Evil and Lantlu could devise. And would devise for us, be sure of that."

He covered his face with his cloak. When he uncovered it he had himself in hand once more.

"Well, lad, courage," he rumbled. "Neither Lantlu nor the Dark Master has us yet! Your turn now. What was it the Mother promised you?"