Абрахам Меррит - Dwellers in the Mirage

I stared stupidly around me. All along the cliffs were the golden pygmies, scores of them, beating upon great drums high as their waists. From those drums came the pealing of thunder, claps and shattering strokes of the bolt's swift fall, and the shouting reverberations that follow it.

The Thunder Drums of the Little People!

On and on roared the drums, yet through their rolling diapason beat ever the battle chant and those other drums…like thrusts of lances…like trampling of horses and of marching men…by Zarda, but the old race still was strong…

A ring of the Little People was dancing around me. Another ring joined them. Beyond them I saw Evalie, watching me with wide, astonished eyes. And around her was another ring of the golden pygmies, arrows at readiness, sickled knives in hand.

Why was she watching me…why were the arms of the Little People turned against me…and why were they dancing? That was a strange dance…it made you sleepy to look at it…what was this lethargy creeping over me…God, but I was sleepy! So sleepy that my dull ears could hardly hear the Thunder Drums…so sleepy I could hear nothing else…so sleepy…I knew, dimly, that I had dropped to my knees, then had fallen prone upon the soft turf…then slept.

I awakened, every sense alert. The drums were throbbing all around me. Not the Thunder Drums, but drums that sang, drums that throbbed and sang to some strange lilting rhythm that set the blood racing through me in tune and in time with its joyousness. The throbbing, singing notes were like tiny, warm, vital blows that whipped my blood into ecstasy of life.

I leaped to my feet. I stood upon a high knoll, round as a woman's breast. Over all the plain were lights, small fires burning, ringing the little altars of the pygmies. And around the fires the Little People were dancing to the throbbing drums. Around the fires and the altars they danced and leaped like little golden flames of life made animate.

Circling the knoll on which I stood was a triple ring of the dwarfs, women and men, weaving, twining, swaying.

They and the burden of the drums were one.

A soft and scented wind was blowing over the knoll. It hummed as it streamed by—and its humming was akin to dance and drum.

In and out, and round about and out and in and back again, the golden pygmies danced around the knoll. And round and round and back again they circled the fire–ringed altars.

I heard a sweet low voice singing—singing to the cadence, singing the song of the drums, singing the dancing of the Little People.

Close by was another knoll like that on which I was—like a pair of woman's high breasts they stood above the plain. It, too, was circled by the dancing dwarfs.

On it sang and danced Evalie.

Her singing was the soul of drum song and dance—her dancing was the sublimation of both. She danced upon the knoll—cobweb veils and girdle gone, clothed only in the silken, rippling cloak of her blue–black hair.

She beckoned, and she called to me—a high–pitched, sweet call.

The fragrant, rushing wind pushed me toward her as I ran down the mound.

The dancing pygmies parted to let me through. The throbbing of the drums grew swifter; their song swept into a higher octave.

Evalie came dancing down to meet me…she was beside me, her arms round my neck, her lips pressed to mine…The drums beat faster. My pulses matched them.

The two rings of little yellow living flames of life joined. They became one swirling circle that drove us forward. Round and round and round us they swirled, driving us on and on to the pulse of the drums. I ceased to think—drum–throb, drum–song, dance–song were all of me.

Yet still I knew that the fragrant wind thrust us on and on, caressing, murmuring, laughing.

We were beside an oval doorway. The silken, scented tresses of Evalie streamed in the wind and kissed me. Beyond and behind us sang the drums. And ever the wind pressed us on…

Drums and wind drove us through the portal of the domed rock.

They drove us into the temple of the Little People…

The soft moss glimmered…the amethystine cross gleamed…

Evalie's arms were around my neck . I held her close…the touch of her lips to mine was like the sweet, secret fire of life…

It was silent in the temple of the Little People. Their drums were silent. The glow of the looped cross above the pit of the Kraken was dim.

Evalie stirred, and cried out in her sleep. I touched her lips and she awoke.

"What is the matter, Evalie?"

"Leif, beloved—I dreamed a white falcon tried to dip its beak into my heart!"

"It was but a dream, Evalie."

She shuddered; she raised her head and bent over me so that her hair covered our faces.

"You drove the falcon away—but then a white wolf came…and leaped upon me."

"It was only a dream, Evalie—bright flame of my heart."

She bent closer to me under the tent of her hair, lips close to mine.

"You drove the wolf away. And I would have kissed you…but a face came between ours…"

"A face, Evalie?"

She whispered:

"The face of Lur! She laughed at me…and then you were gone… with her…and I was alone…"

"It was a lying dream, that! Sleep, beloved."

She sighed. There was a long silence; then drowsily:

"What is it you carry round your neck, Leif? Something from some woman that you treasure?"

"Nothing of woman, Evalie. That is truth."

She kissed me—and slept.

Fool that I was not to have told her then, under the shadow of the ancient symbol…Fool that I was—I did not!

When we went out of the temple into the morning there were half a hundred of the elders, men and women, patiently awaiting our appearance. I thought they were the same who had followed into the domed rock when I had first entered it.

The little women clustered around Evalie. They had brought wraps and swathed her from head to feet. She walked off among them with never a glance nor a word for me. There was something quite ceremonial about it all; she looked for all the world like a bride being led away by somewhat mature elfin bridesmaids.

The little men clustered around me. Sri was there. I was glad of that, for, whatever the doubts of the others about me, I knew he had none. They bade me go with them, and I obeyed without question.

It was raining, and it was both jungle–wet and jungle–warm. The wind was blowing in the regular, rhythmic gusts of the night before. The rain seemed less to fall than to condense in great drops from the air about, except when the wind blew and then the rain drove by in almost level lines. The air was like fragrant wine. I felt like singing and dancing. There was thunder all around—not the drums, but real thunder.

I had been wearing only my shirt and my trousers. I had discarded my knee–high boots for sandals. It was only a minute or two before I was soaking wet. We came to a steaming pool. and there we halted. Sri told me to strip and plunge in.

The pool was hot and invigorating and as I splashed around in it I kept feeling better and better. I reflected that whatever had been in the minds of the Little People when they had driven Evalie and me into the temple, their fear of me had been exorcised—for the time at any rate. But I thought I knew what had been in their minds. They suspected that Khalk'ru had some hold on me, as over the people I resembled. Not much of a hold maybe—but still it was not to be ignored. Very well—the remedy, since they couldn't kill me without breaking Evalie's heart, was to spike me down as they had the Kraken which was Khalk'ru's symbol. So they had spiked me down with Evalie.

I climbed out of the pool, more thoughtful than I had gone into it. They wrapped a loin cloth around me, in curious folds and knots. Then they trilled and twittered and laughed, and danced.