Абрахам Меррит - Creep, Shadow!

I thought that a sighing went round the room, and that for an instant the hues in the tapestries shifted more rapidly. If so, Dahut paid no heed, sat pensive. She said, musingly:

"After all, they do not love me – my shadows. They do my bidding – but they do not love me… who made them. No!"

I who was Alan Caranac smiled at this, but then I reflected that the I who was Lord of Carnac, quite evidently took these shadows seriously, disconcertingly, as matter-of-fact… as Dick had!

She stood up, threw white arms around my neck, and the fragrance of her that was like some secret flower of the sea rocked me, and at her touch desire flamed through me. She said, languorously:

"Beloved who have swept my heart clean of all other loves… who have awakened me to love… why will you not love me?"

I said, thickly:

"I do love you, Dahut – but I do not trust you. How can I know your love will last… or that the time may not come when I, too, become a shadow… as did those others who loved you?"

She answered, lips close to mine:

"I have told you. I loved none of them."

I said: "There was one you loved."

She swayed back, looked deep into my eyes, her own sparkling:

"You mean the child; you are jealous, Alain – and therefore I know you love me! I will send away the child. Nay – if you desire, she shall be slain."

And now I felt cold fury stifle all desire for this woman who held life so lightly against passion that she would turn her hand even against the daughter she had borne. Ah, but that was no secret, even in Carnac. I had seen the little Dahut, violet-eyed, milk-white with the moonfire in her veins – no mistaking who had given her birth, even had her mother denied her. But I mastered the fury – after all, it was but what I had expected, and it steeled me in my determination.

"No," I shook my head. "What would that mean but that you had tired of her – as you tired of her father – as you tired of all your lovers?"

She whispered, desperately, and if I ever saw true madness of love in a woman's face it was there in hers: "What can I do! Alain – what can I do to gain your trust!"

I said: "When the moon wanes, then is the feast of the Alkar-Az. Then you will summon the Gatherer in the Cairn – and then will many of my people die under the mauls of the priests and many more be swallowed by the Blackness. Promise me you will not summon It. Then I will trust you."

She shrank away, lips white; she whispered: "I cannot do that. It would mean the end of Ys. It would mean the end of me. The Gatherer would summon me… Ask anything else, beloved… but that I cannot do."

Well, I had expected her refusal; had hoped for it. I said:

"Then give me the keys to the sea-gates."

She stiffened; I read doubt, suspicion, in her eyes; and when she spoke, softness had gone from her voice. She said, slowly:

"Now why do you ask for them, Lord of Carnac? They are the very sign and symbol of Ys. They are Ys. They were forged by the sea-god who led my forefathers here long and long and long ago. Never have they been in any hands except those of the Kings of Ys. Never may they be in any hands except those of a King of Ys. Why do you ask for them?"

Ah – but this was the crisis. This was the moment toward which for long I had been working. I caught her up in my arms, tall woman that she was, and held her cupped in them. I pressed my lips to hers, and I felt her quiver and her arms lock round my neck and her teeth bruise my mouth. I threw back my head. I roared laughter. I said:

"You yourself have said it, Dahut. I ask because they are the symbol of Ys. Because they are – you. Perhaps because I would hold them against any change of heart of yours, White Witch. Perhaps as a shield against your shadows. Double your guards at the sea-gates, if you will, Dahut. But – " again I held her close and set my mouth against hers: "I kiss you never again until those keys are in my hands."

She said, falteringly:

"Hold me so another moment, Alain… and you shall have the keys… Hold me… it is as though my soul were loosed from bondage… You shall have the keys…"

She bent her head and I felt her lips upon my breast, over my heart. And black hate of her and red lust for her fought within me.

She said: "Put me down."

And when I had done this she looked at me long with soft and misty eyes; and she said again:

"You shall have the keys, beloved. But I must wait until my father is asleep. I shall see to it that he goes early to sleep. And the keys of Ys shall be in the hands of a King of Ys – for King of Ys you shall be, my own dear Lord. Now wait here for me – "

She was gone.

I walked to the window and looked out upon the sea. The storm had broken, was rising to tempest strength and the long combers were battering, battering at the stone prow of Ys, and I could feel the tower tremble in the blast. Blast and sea matched the exultation in my heart.

I knew that hours had passed, and that I had eaten and had drunk. There was confused memory of a great hall where I had sat among gay people close to a dais where was the old King of Ys, and at his right Dahut, and at his left a white-robed, yellow-eyed priest around whose forehead was a narrow band of gold and at whose girdle the sacred maul with which the breasts of my own people were beaten in before the Alkar-Az. He had watched me, malevolently. And the King had grown sleepy, nodding… nodding…

But now I was in Dahut's tower. The storm was stronger and so were the surge and beat of waves on the stone prow of Ys. The rosy light was dim, and the shadows in the green hangings were motionless. Yet I thought that they were closer to the surface; were watching me.

In my hands were three slender bars of sea-green metal, strangely notched and serrated; upon each the symbol of the trident. The longest was three times the space between my index finger and wrist, the shortest the length of my hand.

They hung from a bracelet, a thin band of silver in which was set a black stone bearing in crimson the trident symbol that was the summoning name of the seagod. They were the keys of Ys, given by the sea-god to those who had built Ys.

The keys to the sea-gates!

And Dahut stood before me. She was like a girl in her robe of white, her slender feet bare, hair of silvery gold flowing over exquisite shoulders and the rosy light weaving a little aureole around her head. I who was Alan Caranac thought: She looks like a saint. But I who was Lord of Carnac knew nothing of saints, and only thought: How can I kill this woman, evil as I know her to be!

She said, simply: "Now can you trust, Lord of me?"

I dropped the keys and set my hands on her shoulders: "Yes."

She raised her lips to me, like a child. I felt pity, against all my knowledge of what she truly was and I against my will I felt pity for her. So I lied. I said: "Let the keys stay where they are, white flower. In the morning, before your father awakens, you shall take them back to him. It was but a test, sweet white flame."

She looked at me, gravely:

"If you wish it, so shall it be done. But there is no need. Tomorrow you shall be King of Ys."

I felt a little shock go through me, and pity fled. If that promise meant anything it meant that she was going to kill her father as remorselessly as she had offered to kill her child. She said, dreamily:

"He grows old. And he is weary. He will be glad to go. And with these keys – I give you all of myself. With them – I lock behind me all life that I have lived. I come to you – virgin. Those I have slain I forget, as you will forget. And their shadows shall – cease to be."

Again I heard that sighing whisper go round the room, but she did not – or if she did, she gave it no heed.

And suddenly she clasped me in her arms, and her lips clung to mine… nor were they virginal… and the desire of her swept like wild-fire through me…