Абрахам Меррит - Dwellers in the Mirage

"The guards shall have their amusement."

I felt a little shiver along my back, for this was true witchcraft. But I said nothing and we went on. We came to that place from which I had scanned the cliff. We parted the ferns and peered out upon the fortress.

Thus it was. At our right, a score of paces away, soared the sheer wall of the cliff which, continuing over the boiling torrent, formed this nearer bastion. The cover in which we lurked ran up to it, was thrown back like a green wave from its base. Between our cover and the moat was a space not more than a dozen paces across, made barren by the hot spray that fell on it. Here, the walls of the fortress were not more than a javelin cast distant. The wall and the parapet touched the cliff, but hardly could they be seen through the thick veils of steam. And this was what I had meant when I had said that our weakest link would be forged where Sirk's defences were weakest. For no sentinels stood at this corner. With the heat and steam and exhalations from the geyser, there was no need—or so they thought. How, here at its hottest source, could the torrent be crossed? Who could scale that smooth and dripping cliff? Of all the defences, this spot was the impregnable one, unnecessary to guard—or so they thought. Therefore it was the exact point to attack—if it could be done.

I studied it. Not for full two hundred paces was there a single sentinel. From somewhere behind the fortress came the glare of a fire. It cast flickering shadows on the terraces of fallen rock beyond the bastioning cliffs; and that was good, since if we gained their shelter, we, too, would seem but flickering shadows. I beckoned Ouarda, and pointed to the rocks which were to be the goal of the naked girls. They were close to the cliff where it curved inward beyond the parapet, and they were about the height of twenty tall men above where we hid. She drew the girls to her and instructed them. They nodded, their eyes dropping swiftly to the cauldron of the moat, then turning to the glistening precipice. I saw some of them shudder. Well, I could not hold that against them, no!

We crept back and found the base of the cliff. Here were enough and to spare of rock holds for the grapnels of the ladder. We unwound the rope ladder. We set the wooden ladder against the cliff. I pointed out the ledge that might be the key to Sirk, counselled the climbers as best I could. I knew that the ledge could not be much wider than the span of a hand. Yet above it and below it were small crevices, pockets, where fingers and toes could grip, for clumps of ferns sprouted there.

Hai! But they had courage, those slim girls. We fastened to their belts long strong cords which would slip through our hands as they crept along. And they looked at one another's stained faces and bodies and laughed. The first went up the ladder like a squirrel, got foothold and handhold and began to edge across. In an instant she had vanished, the green and black with which her body was stained merging into the dim green and black of the cliff. Slowly, slowly, the first cord slipped through my fingers.

Another followed her, and another, until I held six cords. And now the others climbed up and crept out on the perilous path, their leashes held in the strong hands of the Witch–woman.

Hai! But that was queer fishing! With will strained toward keeping these girl–fish out of water! Slowly—Gods, but how slowly—the cords crept through my fingers! Through the fingers of the Witch–woman… slowly…slowly…but ever on and on.

Now that first slim girl must be over the cauldron…I had swift vision of her clinging to the streaming rock, the steam of the cauldron clothing her…

That line slackened in my hand. It slackened, then ran out so swiftly that it cut the skin…slackened again…a tug upon it as of a great fish racing away…I felt the line snap. The girl had fallen! Was now dissolving flesh in the cauldron!

The second cord slackened and tugged and snapped…and the third…Three of them gone! I whispered to Lur:

"Three are gone!"

"And two!" she said. I saw that her eyes were tightly closed, but the hands that clutched the cords were steady.

Five of those slim girls! Only seven left! Luka—spin your wheel!

On and on, slowly, with many a halt, the remaining cords crept through my fingers. Now the fourth girl must be over the moat…must be over the parapet…must be well on her way to the rocks…my heart beat in my throat, half–strangling me…Gods—the sixth had fallen! "Another!" I groaned to Lur. "And another!" she whispered, and cast the end of a cord from her hand.

Five left…only five now…Luka, a temple to you in Karak—all your own, sweet goddess!

What was that? A pull upon a cord, and twice repeated! The signal! One had crossed! Honour and wealth to you, slim girl…

"All gone but one, Dwayanu!" whispered the Witch–woman.

I groaned again, and glared at her…Again the twitches—upon my fifth cord! Another safe! "My last is over!" whispered Lur. Three safe! Three hidden among the rocks. The fishing was done. Sirk had stolen three–fourths of my bait.

But Sirk was hooked!

Weakness like none I had known melted bones and muscles. Lur's face was white as chalk, black shadows under staring eyes.

Well, now it was our turn. The slim maids who had fallen might soon have company!

I took the cord from Lur. Sent the signal. Felt it answered.

We cut the cords, and knotted their ends to heavier strands. And when they had run out we knotted to their ends a stronger, slender rope.

It crept away—and away—and away—

And now for the ladder—the bridge over which we must go.

It was light but strong, that ladder. Woven cunningly in a way thought out long and long ago. It had claws at each end which, once they had gripped, were not easily opened.

We fastened that ladder's end to the slender rope. It slipped away from us…over the ferns…out into the hot breath of the cauldron…through it.

Invisible within that breath…invisible against the green dusk of the cliff…on and on it crept…

The three maids had it! They were making it fast. Under my hands it straightened and stiffened. We drew it taut from our end. We fastened our grapnels.

The road to Sirk was open!

I turned to the Witch–woman. She stood, her gaze far and far away. In her eyes was the green fire of her wolves. And suddenly over the hissing of the torrent, I heard the howling of her wolves—far and far away.

She relaxed; her head dropped; she smiled at me—"Yes—truly can I talk to my wolves, Dwayanu!"

I walked to the ladder, tested it. It was strong, secure.

"I go first, Lur. Let none follow me until I have crossed. Then do you, Dara and Naral, climb to guard my back."

Lur's eyes blazed.

"I follow you. Your captains come after me."

I considered that. Well—let it be.

"As you say, Lur. But do not follow until I have crossed. Then let Ouarda send the soldiers. Ouarda—not more than ten may be on the ladder at a time. Bind cloths over their mouths and nostrils before they start. Count thirty—slowly, like this—before each sets forth behind the other. Fasten axe and sword between my shoulders, Lur. See to it that all bear their weapons so. Watch now, how I use my hands and feet."

I swung upon the ladder, arms and legs opened wide. I began to climb it. Like a spider. Slowly, so they could learn. The ladder swayed but little; its angle was a good one.

And now I was above the fern–brake. And now I was at the edge of the torrent. Above it. The stream swirled round me. It hid me. The hot breath of the geyser shrivelled me. Nor could I see anything of the ladder except the strands beneath me…

Thank Luka for that! If what was before me was hidden—so was I hidden from what was before me!