Part 20 (1/2)
”I do not understand!” he stammered. ”We are faithful. In the chamber of the oracle you told us-”
”Do not heed what you heard in the chamber of the oracle!” rolled that terrible voice, multiplied until it was as though a myriad voices thundered and muttered the same warning. ”Beware of false prophets and false G.o.ds! A demon in my guise spoke to you in the palace, giving false prophecy. Now harken and obey, for only I am the true G.o.ddess, and I give you one chance to save yourselves from doom!
”Take the Teeth of Gwahlur from the crypt where they were placed so long ago. Alkmeenon is no longer holy, because it has been desecrated by blasphemers. Give the Teeth of Gwahlur into the hands of Thutmekri, the Stygian, to place in the sanctuary of Dagon and Derketo. Only this can save Keshan from the doom the demons of the night have plotted.
Take the Teeth of Gwahlur and go; return instantly to Kes.h.i.+a; there give the jewels to Thutmekri, and seize the foreign devil Conan and flay him alive in the great square.”
There was no hesitation in obeying. Chattering with fear the priests scrambled up and ran for the door that opened behind the b.e.s.t.i.a.l G.o.d.
Gorulga led the flight They jammed briefly in the doorway, yelping as wildly waving torches touched squirming black bodies; they plunged through, and the patter of their speeding feet dwindled down the tunnel.
Conan did not follow. He was consumed with a furious desire to learn the truth of this fantastic affair. Was that indeed Yelaya, as the cold sweat on the backs of his hands told him, or was it that little hussy Muriela, turned traitoress after all? If it was-
Before the last torch had vanished down the black tunnel he was bounding vengefully up the stone stair. The blue glow was dying down, but he could still make out that the ivory figure stood motionless on the gallery. His blood ran cold as he approached it, but he did not hesitate. He came on with his sword lifted, and towered like a threat of death over the inscrutable shape.
”Telaya!” he snarled. ”Dead as she's been for a thousand years! Ha!”
From the dark mouth of a tunnel behind him a dark form lunged. But the sudden, deadly rush of unshod feet had reached the Cimmerian's quick ears. He whirled like a cat and dodged the blow aimed murderously at his back. As the gleaming steel in the dark hand hissed past him, he struck back with the fury of a roused python, and the long straight blade impaled his a.s.sailant and stood out a foot and a half between his shoulders.
”So!” Conan tore his sword free as the victim sagged to the floor, gasping and gurgling. The man writhed briefly and stiffened. In the dying light Conan saw a black body and ebon countenance, hideous in the blue glare. He had killed Gwarunga.
Conan turned from the corpse to the G.o.ddess. Thongs about her knees and breast held her upright against a stone pillar, and her thick hair, fastened to the column, held her head up. At a few yards' distance these bonds were not visible in the uncertain light.
”He must have come to after I descended into the tunnel,” muttered Conan. ”He must have suspected I was down there. So he pulled out the dagger”-Conan stooped and wrenched the identical weapon from the stiffening fingers, glanced at it and replaced it in his own girdle-”and shut the door. Then he took Yelaya to befool his brother idiots. That was he shouting a while ago. You couldn't recognize his voice, under this echoing roof. And that bursting blue flame-I thought it looked familiar. It's a trick of the Stygian priests. Thutmekri must have given some of it to Gwarunga.”
The man could easily have reached this cavern ahead of his companions.
Evidently familiar with the plan of the caverns by hearsay or by maps handed down in the priestcraft, he had entered the cave after the others, carrying the G.o.ddess, followed a circuitous route through the tunnels and chambers, and ensconced himself and his burden on the balcony while Gorulga and the other acolytes were engaged in their endless rituals.
The blue glare had faded, but now Conan was aware of another glow, emanating from the mouth of one of the corridors that opened on the ledge. Somewhere down that corridor there was another field of phosphorus, for he recognized the faint steady radiance. The corridor led in the direction the priests had taken, and he decided to follow it, rather than descend into the darkness of the great cavern below.
Doubtless it connected with another gallery in some other chamber, which might be the destination of the priests. He hurried down it, the illumination growing stronger as he advanced, until he could make out the floor and the walls of the tunnel. Ahead of him and below he could hear the priests chanting again.
Abruptly a doorway in the left-hand wall was limned in the phosphorous glow, and to his ears came the sound of soft, hysterical sobbing. He wheeled, and glared through the door.
He was looking again into a chamber hewn out of solid rock, not a natural cavern like the others. The domed roof shone with the phosphorous light, and the walls were almost covered with arabesques of beaten gold.
Near the farther wall on a granite throne, staring for ever toward the arched doorway, sat the monstrous and obscene Pteor, the G.o.d of the Pelishti, wrought in bra.s.s, with his exaggerated attributes reflecting the grossness of his cult. And in his lap sprawled a limp white figure.
”Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned!” muttered Conan. He glanced suspiciously about the chamber, seeing no other entrance or evidence of occupation, and then advanced noiselessly and looked down at the girl whose slim shoulders shook with sobs of abject misery, her face sunk in her arms.
From thick bands of gold on the idol's arms slim gold chains ran to smaller bands on her wrists. He laid a hand on her naked shoulder and she started convulsively, shrieked, and twisted her tear-stained face toward him.
”Conan!” She made a spasmodic effort to go into the usual clinch, but the chains hindered her. He cut through the soft gold as close to her wrists as he could, grunting: ”You'll have to wear these bracelets until I can find a chisel or a file. Let go of me, d.a.m.n it! You actresses are too d.a.m.ned emotional. What happened to you, anyway?”
”When I went back into the oracle chamber,” she whimpered, ”I saw the G.o.ddess lying on the dais as I'd first seen her. I called out to you and started to run to the door-then something grabbed me from behind.
It clapped a hand over my mouth and carried me through a panel in the wall, and down some steps and along a dark hall. I didn't see what it was that had hold of me until we pa.s.sed through a big metal door and came into a tunnel whose roof was alight, like this chamber.
”Oh, I nearly fainted when I saw! They are not humans! They are gray, hairy devils that walk like men and speak a gibberish no human could understand. They stood there and seemed to be waiting, and once I thought I heard somebody trying the door. Then one of the things pulled a metal lever in the wall, and something crashed . on the other side of the door.
”Then they carried me on and on through winding tunnels and up stone stairways into this chamber, where they chained me on the knees of this abominable idol, and then they went away. Oh, Conan, what are they?”
”Servants of Bit-Yakin,” he grunted. ”I found a ma.n.u.script that told me a number of things, and then stumbled upon some frescoes that told me the rest. Bit-Yakin was a Pelishti who wandered into the valley with his servants after the people of Alkmeenon had deserted it. He found the body of Princess Yelaya, and discovered that the priests returned from time to time to make offerings to her, for even then she was wors.h.i.+ped as a G.o.ddess.