THE SCROLL OF NEOMRI.
“I RECKON,” remarked Haverly, munching a piece of fungus with manifest relish, “you might as well explain how the blazes you got out of that darned hole, Seymour, an’, incidentally, where you got your tin suit. It’s a rig-out as kinder takes my eye.”
While the explorers slept Chenobi had procured a number of edible fungi, to which they were now doing full justice.
“Well,” Seymour returned, in answer to the Yankee’s suggestion, “it’s a longish yarn, but if you’d care to hear it, here goes.”
With that he launched into an account of his adventures, telling of his fall, of his swim in the reservoir, the second meeting with his wolfish enemy, and all that transpired afterwards. Open-mouthed, his friends listened to his description of the hall of mummies and of the armour chamber.
“But did not Chenobi know of these weapons?” Mervyn asked amazedly. “He told us he had none but the spears taken from the wolf-men, yet below there, you say, are weapons sufficient for an army.”
Rapidly the scientist interpreted Seymour’s story to the king, concluding by questioning him as to his knowledge of the existence of the armoury.
“I knew that there was a secret passage,” observed the king, “but it was the secret of the priests of Ramouni. None but they knew where the dead were laid. When Nordhu destroyed the last of the priests, the secret died with him.”
“We must examine these caverns presently,” remarked Mervyn, attacking a fresh fungus.
“Say, Tom,” Haverly drawled, after some moments of silence, “what game was the old priest playing when he took you out of the cell?”
The young engineer shuddered at the question.
“I remember nothing at all save having an overwhelming desire to start a gun factory,” he replied.
“The hypnotic influence of the priest,” Mervyn explained. “He attempted to force me to reveal to him ‘the secret of the fire-weapons,’ as he called it. The fellow seems to have a longing for firearms. It is unfortunate you remember nothing of your experience down there, Wilson. There is evidently some work being carried on, and upon a gigantic scale, too. Who’s for a visit to the vaults?” he went on, rising. “Come, Seymour; you, as discoverer, must do the honours of the place.”
“Very well,” returned the baronet, replacing his helmet, which he had removed while he rested; “but I can assure you it’s a ghostly hole. Are you coming, Chenobi?”
“Ay,” returned the Ayuti; “I am minded to look upon the last resting-place of my forefathers.”
With that they all moved across the temple to where the great stone door still stood ajar as Seymour had left it, and, descending the steps, passed into the armoury. Their various exclamations showed how differently they were affected by the sight of the gleaming pile of weapons. What struck Haverly most was the enormous amount of wealth represented by the jewels which studded the hilts of every sword and dagger. Wilson was attracted by the exquisite workmanship of the weapons; while Mervyn viewed them as curios, rare specimens to be consigned to some museum as the relics of an extinct race.
“Marvellous!” he exclaimed again and again. “The civilisation of ancient Greece was but little ahead of these Ayutis. A marvellous race!”
Chenobi, with the eye of a warrior, was examining the armour, and it was not long ere he was armed cap-à-pie in the long-disused mail of his ancestors. A noble figure he looked, too, as he stood beside Seymour, smiling at the strangeness of the suit to his limbs.
“Tin suits seem to be the fashion,” Haverly remarked with a grin to Wilson.
“They save washing, you know,” returned the latter. “But, seriously, Silas, what the dickens is this metal? Armour, weapons, locks, and everything else seems to be made of the same non-rusting stuff, and it’s a lot harder than steel. If you remember, the wolf-men’s spears are the same; but what it is I know no more than Adam.”
“I allow I ain’t in a position to enlighten you,” the millionaire returned; “get it above ground, though, and there’s a fortune in it. I guess we’ll call it ‘Mervynite,’ in honour of the professor.”
“What’s that?” the scientist asked at the mention of his name.
“Silas suggests calling this new metal ‘Mervynite,’” Wilson replied.
The professor shook his head with a laugh.
“You do me too much honour,” he said; “but now let us investigate further,” and he passed into the hall of the dead.
Here, however, none cared to remain long, and, after a brief examination of this and the next vault, which was devoted to the same purpose, they passed through the tunnel on to the pavement of the reservoir. The vastness of this work astonished them, and they would fain have explored the whole of the great cavern wherein the water was stored, but that prudence compelled them to return. They dared not leave the terrace long unguarded, lest their enemies should surprise them.
“See, you mentioned a plan, Seymour?” Mervyn remarked, as they returned to the temple; “where did you put it?”
“It’s here,” answered the baronet, producing the casket from the breast of his suit. “There are some hieroglyphics on the front; perhaps you can manage to read ’em. I must confess they’re beyond me.”
The scientist’s hand trembled as he took the parchment from its case.
Spreading it out on the temple floor, he knelt down and perused it eagerly for a few seconds. Then a glad cry broke from his lips:
“It’s the key, Seymour! The explanation to all the mystery! Listen, and I will read.”
Forthwith the scientist commenced to read from the faded manuscript, his eyes glowing with enthusiasm as he translated the strange Ayuti signs.
“The scroll of Neomri,” he began, “son of Nazra, of the House of Lauma, chief priests of Ramouni since the beginning of all things.”
At the mention of the strange names Chenobi’s eyes flashed, and, drawing nearer, he glanced over Mervyn’s shoulder as he went on:
“To him that readeth, greeting. Let it be known to you that the priestly scroll wherein was set down all that befel since the first days was destroyed by an evil chance in the hour when the judgment of Ramouni was visited upon his people. Yet such of that which was therein writ as hath come to my knowledge, I here set down.
“In the beginning Ayuti was a mighty kingdom, wherein ruled many mighty princes. Fair was the land to look upon, and Ramouni warmed it with the beams from his all-seeing eye. Day by day arose the prayers and incense of the priests, that the smile of Ramouni should not be removed from his people. And it was well with the land, for the people were content.
“Yet it fell that, as the years went by, they grew careless, attending not to the voice of the priests, nor hearkening to their counsel. Empty was the temple of Ramouni; neither was the sound of worship heard any more before the altar. In sloth were the days passed, and in revelry the nights. Then Ramouni waxed wroth, and hid his face from his people, and a thick cloud of smoke arose from the earth many days, whereby much people were choked. The waters of the sea, also, overflowed the land, and vast rents appeared in the face of the earth. The earth quaked exceedingly, and there were sounds like unto thunder. So for many days it continued.
“Then the remnant which was left, being but three score male and female, fled unto the refuge of the dead fire-mountain, whence they dared not come forth again, for the land of my people was become a desert, wherein grew no green thing. And it chanced that they found a passage in the heart of the mountain and ventured therein. Three days they journeyed, and on the fourth the passage ended. Before them was darkness; but, being like to starve for food, they were bold, and lowered a rope, down which one was sent and found firm ground below.
“Then sent they down a second, that the twain might search out the land. In a while they returned, telling that they had seen a great jungle of fearsome-looking plants wherein abode many monstrous beasts. Caring not so that they might find a place to dwell in and withal food to eat, the rest went down into this strange land. My hand groweth weary to write of all they suffered hereafter; how they found the fearsome barbarians which dwelt in the land; of the mighty beasts they fought and overcame. They grew and multiplied into an exceeding great people, taking unto themselves as slaves many of the barbarians, who, for all their loathsome appearance, were willing enough to obey.
“Unto these my people taught the language of Ayuti, they having no speech of their own save queer howling cries, like unto the voice of a wolf, for the which cause called they them ‘Wolf-people,’ being of a mind that they were perchance arisen from wolves.”
Here Mervyn paused and shook his head decidedly.
“I guess the evolution theory’s considerable older than we thought,” said Haverly, “accordin’ to that. But wade in, Mervyn; the old man can tell a decent yarn.”
Once more the scientist bent over the manuscript:
“With the aid of these their slaves my people builded a great city of stone, and in the midst a mighty temple to Ramouni. An image also they built, carven cunningly, and set it up that it might face the passage through which they came. And each day the light of Ramouni fell upon the eye of the image.
“Hereafter they found a strange metal which they digged from the heart of the hills. And they made great mines, and set up machines for the working of the metal; and they prospered. The strongest among them chose they for king, and Bazoo, of the House of Lauma, was priest in the temple of Ramouni. Now it fell that, as time passed, the wolf-people whom they kept for slaves grew in cunning as they grew in numbers. A mighty people they were, that knew not fear.
“And an Ayuti, Nordhu by name, an evil-doer, roused them to rebel; and at a time when the people of the city held high revel, the slaves armed themselves, and, falling upon their masters, slew them all, save a few. From these latter I, even Neomri, am descended, being born to Madro, wife of Nazra.
“While I write the fear is upon me that ere long our race will be nought but a name; for we be but a few, in all not more than a score, and we hide amid the ruins of our city, fearing the creatures which once were our slaves. Yet I would that our race might be preserved, for we are an ancient people. Nevertheless, let the will of Ramouni be done.”
The scientist’s voice trailed away into silence, and he sat pondering for a while over what he had read.
“The old chap’s a bit disappointing,” Seymour broke in at length. “He says nothing of the existence of this phosphorescent liquid, nor yet of the bell which tolls when the sunlight strikes the idol’s eye.”
“He says enough to prove my theory,” Mervyn replied abstractedly; “save that it was a volcanic outbreak, and not an incursion of enemies, which drove them to the shelter of the crater, my theory is identical with the story on this manuscript. Nordhu, the priest, must be the descendant of Nordhu the evil-doer, mentioned here. The caverns in the hills are undoubtedly the ancient mines in which the wolf-men would take up their habitation after the massacre. We may also take it for granted that the work still carried on down there is the making of this same strange metal.”
“Mervynite?” Haverly put in.
“Yes, Mervynite, if you like, Silas,” returned the scientist with a smile.
“Talking of Nordhu,” remarked the baronet, “reminds me that we must decide on the fate of our prisoner.”
Turning, he spoke for some moments with Chenobi.
“The king says the priest may choose the manner of his death,” he announced.
“Must he die?” Mervyn questioned, his mild nature revolting against the idea of an execution.
“He must die!” repeated Seymour sternly. “Both Chenobi and I have sworn it. The fiend murdered our friend’s brother, and it was not his fault he did not add our names to his list of victims. God alone knows how many poor wretches he has sacrificed to that devilish spider! So vile a monster is not fit to live.”
Although his own good judgment told him that Nordhu merited death, yet the idea of executing him could not be other than repugnant to the scientist’s nature. It seemed too much like cold-blooded murder.
“But——” he began again.
“No ‘buts,’ if you please,” retorted the baronet sharply; “his death is decided upon. It only remains for him to choose the manner of it. Come, Chenobi, let us bring our prisoner forth.”
Together the two men left the temple. Once more Chenobi touched the spring in the masonry; then, as the door swung open, a savage cry burst from his lips. The chamber was empty—Nordhu had vanished!
[CHAPTER XXXI.]
“THE SEAL!”
THE way of the priest’s escape became clear at once. In the rear wall of the chamber a small door stood ajar.
“I thought not that he knew of the passage,” the Ayuti hissed; “but he shall not escape. Take you the hounds, Fairhair, and follow. I know whereto this passage leads, and will ride round upon Muswani to cut him off.”
Within five minutes the pursuit was in full swing. The hounds were loping down the passage on the trail of Nordhu, with the explorers close behind, while the king was galloping away from the city on his elk, hoping to intercept the flying priest.
“Say,” exclaimed Haverly, “I guess this temple must be kinder honeycombed with passages.”
“It’s a wonderful building,” returned Mervyn. “These passages are doubtless arranged for the convenience of the priests——”
“Nordhu must have the devil’s own cunning to have found that secret door,” interrupted Seymour savagely; “But he won’t escape for all his wiles. If the hounds get hold of him he’ll have short shrift.”
Down a flight of stairs the pursuers went, the great hounds making the passage ring with their baying; then on once more, the tunnel twisting and winding in such a fashion that neither of the friends had the least idea of the direction in which they were moving. Little they cared, however, so that they might again lay hands on the fugitive priest, who, should he succeed in effecting his escape, would assuredly once again attempt their destruction. His capture was a necessity if they would ever find their missing comrade and the vessel; for, with Nordhu at liberty, plotting their ruin, they would not dare venture forth to search for the Seal. So they put forth every effort in the chase, hoping at each bend of the passage they turned to come in sight of their quarry.
But Nordhu appeared to have obtained too good a start. The pursuers were beginning to think that, after all, they should lose him, when, rounding a curve swiftly, they pulled up in sheer astonishment.
Scarce twenty feet away, his gleaming jewel flashing a challenge to Seymour’s, stood the man they sought. Beside him was a great lever, upon which his hand rested, and at his feet in the floor of the tunnel yawned a hole some six feet in width. Close to the near edge of this crouched the hounds, their ferocity overcome by the hypnotic power of the priest.
At once the pursuers became watchful. What card was Nordhu about to play? they wondered. What devilish trick was he about to perform? The priest’s face puckered up into a savage grin as he noted the hesitation of his enemies.
“Why do ye not come on?” he cried ironically; “art afraid? I have waited to bid ye farewell, thinking perchance ye might grieve did I leave you without.”
Seymour’s face was distorted with fury as he gazed upon the priest. Scarcely could he control the mad passion which bade him rush forward and grip the grinning fiend. But what was that hole in the floor? What was the lever? That Nordhu was about to spring some diabolical trick upon them was certain, and the thought checked the baronet’s murderous desire. So for a space they remained, pursuers and fugitive glaring at each other with a world of hatred in their eyes, yet neither making a move.
Then once more the priest spoke:
“Since ye will not join me, I will go. Fare ye well until I return with my warriors to destroy ye.”
He laughed mockingly, and at that Seymour, losing control of his temper, leapt forward. Quick as thought Nordhu flung over the lever beside him, and at once, from the roof of the tunnel, a cataract of liquid light began to fall, plunging into the hole in the floor.
“Wilt follow now?” snarled the voice of the priest above the boom and splash of the falling light.
“Jupiter!” gasped the Yankee. “Checkmate!”
Ay! checkmate it was! for who dared attempt to pass that gleaming curtain after Chenobi’s warning as to its deadly power. Nordhu had played his card and played it well.
With a laugh of triumph he turned and strode down the tunnel, leaving his pursuers standing helpless and amazed at his handiwork.
“I almost feel inclined to risk it,” growled Seymour, as the sound of the priest’s footsteps died away.
“You must not,” cried Mervyn excitedly; “remember what the king said, as——”
But there was no need for the scientist to reiterate Chenobi’s warning.
While yet the words trembled on his lips the fact that the Ayuti had not exaggerated the terrible power of the liquid light was brought to the notice of all in a fearful manner.
Released from the fascination of the priest, the hounds had again grown restless, baying clamorously, yet not daring to venture near the curtain of falling light. Suddenly, while Mervyn spoke, from far away came a cry, faint, but easily recognisable as the voice of Nordhu. At the sound one of the dogs made a rash spring forward, as though he would have plunged through the cataract on the trail of the priest. Over the brink of the hole he leapt, his fore-paws outstretched, but touched the fringe of the falling liquid; then he was shrivelled up into a shapeless black mass, and was swept downward by the cataract.
“Great Heaven!” the scientist cried: “poor brute!”
The other hounds, awed by the fate of their fellow, drew back whining.
“What a fearful power!” Wilson exclaimed. “It must be some form of electricity, I should imagine.”
“I guess the Ayuti didn’t pile it on a bit too thick when he said it was death to touch it,” announced Silas; “but let’s get a move on. We’ll have to follow the trail of the elk now, and we may be in at the death, after all, if we flicker.”
With that they all turned and retraced their steps to the altar chamber. Then, descending to the square, they set the two remaining hounds on the trail of Muswani.
“I reckon,” Haverly averred, as they passed through the city gate, “as Nordhu’s a man of resources. He ought to be a financier. There’s not a blamed coup but what he could bring off.”
“He’s the craftiest brute I ever had dealings with,” returned Seymour; “but I think he’s about at the end of his tether. By this time Chenobi should have reached the end of the passage, and, if so, Nordhu will regret the bravado that inspired him to wait and bid ‘us farewell,’ as he put it.”
“How he comes to know the secrets of the temple so well puzzles me,” admitted Mervyn. “His knowledge of the workings of the place seems almost unlimited.”
“You can bet he’s used that passage before,” remarked the American; “perhaps to sneak into the city on some throat-slitting job or other; but I reckon he’ll have to be real cute to get away from Chenobi. Say, we’ll have to accelerate the pace considerable if we’re to see this job through,” and he set the example by striding forward briskly.
Over the plain they went for perhaps a couple of hours, close at the heels of the hounds, until the sound of the sea came to their ears, the booming of waves against the rocks.
“Great Scott!” the baronet exclaimed; “I did not know we were so near the sea.”
“We may see something of the Seal,” suggested Wilson, his heart leaping at the thought.
“I shouldn’t reckon on it,” replied Silas; “this underground sea appears to be fairly large, and there’s heaps of room for the old boat to get lost if Garth ain’t careful where he’s steering.”
“You don’t think the submarine’s come to grief?” queried the engineer anxiously.
“I think nothing,” was the reply, “but, what with wolf-men ashore and ichthyosauri afloat, I reckon our pard must be havin’ a hot time.”
Now the trail led down to the beach, and, swinging sharp to the right after the hounds, the party passed beneath the shadow of an immense cliff.
“Who goes?” cried a voice in Ayuti, and Chenobi stepped forward from an angle of the rock. He checked the noise of the hounds with a gesture, and turned to his friends with an air of surprise.
“Where is Nordhu?” he asked. “I have waited here long for ye to drive him forth, but he hath not emerged.”
Forthwith Seymour explained all that had happened, and told of the cry they had heard, at which the hound had leapt to his death.
“The priest hath doubtless met with some mischance,” Chenobi asserted. “Come; we will enter the passage.”
Moving a few paces along the cliff base, he turned into a dark opening. Ere the others could follow, however, he leapt back with a startled cry, as a dark figure appeared at the tunnel end.
It was the priest.
His one hand, uplifted above his head, held a small, shrivelled brown ball, and his whole attitude was so menacing that the explorers involuntarily stepped back a pace.
“Back!” the king cried, his eyes fixed upon Nordhu’s hand; “’tis the thunder-ball!”
“Move not,” snarled the priest; “I have somewhat to say ere I destroy ye. Thought ye to trap me in the tunnel, dogs? I tell you ye know not the resources of Nordhu. Ye are but babes.” Then, with a change of tone, he went on, “Why do ye pit yourselves against me? I offered you life for the secret of your fire-weapons, and ye would not take it. I offer you again. Join me; make my people into a strong race; teach them of your knowledge, and ye shall be rulers and kings among them. What say ye?”
“No, you devil!” thundered the baronet in a fury, “a thousand times, no! Think ye we would have dealings with a monster foul as you, who can take pleasure in sacrificing helpless prisoners to the appetite of the devilish Rahee? Truly you have no lack of conceit.”
“Hath he spoken for all of ye?” demanded the priest calmly, not a whit moved by this outburst. “Do all of ye choose death rather than life?”
“We choose nothing,” retorted Mervyn; “you are in our power. What is to prevent us slaying you?”
An evil grin spread over Nordhu’s features.
“This,” he cried, shaking aloft the ball he held, and at the movement the face of Chenobi grew pale as death; “the thunder-ball. ’Twill shatter you to fragments in a moment, if I but cast it at your feet.”
“Great Heaven!” whispered Mervyn to the baronet, “it’s a dried puff-ball! We must be careful.”
“Now hearken,” the priest went on; “step backward to the water’s edge and cast your weapons into the sea. Have a care”—as Seymour made a threatening movement—“I am not minded to destroy myself with ye, yet will I do that rather than fall again into your hands.”
“I guess he’s got the drop on us,” Haverly growled, as the scientist translated the priest’s command; “we’ll have to do as he says.”
In silence the party obeyed the order, though their hearts burned with shame at their humiliating position. As the last weapon splashed into the heaving water, Nordhu advanced from the tunnel, walking with a slight limp. The hounds, who had retreated with their master, whined piteously as the priest moved over the beach. Their terror of the man seemed to overcome all their natural courage.
“Stand where ye are,” Nordhu called, “and make no attempt to follow me, or ’twill be the worse for ye.”
So the adventurers stood, and watched him toil painfully across the shingle. Evidently he had fallen and injured himself in the tunnel, at the time when the four had heard his cry. Towards the plain they had crossed so recently he stumbled.
“Curse it! we’ve lost him!” muttered Seymour savagely, as the light of the priest’s jewel faded from view; then suddenly a savage bellow rang out of the darkness.
“’Tis Muswani,” cried the Ayuti; “I had forgotten him. He is loose on the plain, and has doubtless attacked the priest.”
An instant later the bellow was repeated, and the priest reappeared, scuttling down to the water’s edge with the giant elk pounding along behind him, mad with fury. Here was a factor in the game for which Nordhu was not prepared. If he used his explosive ball to destroy the great elk, he would be defenceless against his human foes, and he well knew that he would receive but scant mercy from them. Therefore he took to the water, hoping to swim out beyond sight of the Ayuti’s bellicose steed; then return to the shore at a point some considerable distance away.
“Good old hoss!” Silas cried, as the elk plunged into the water after his escaping foe; but his sentence broke off into a gasp of amazement as a hoarse shout broke from the engineer:
“The Seal! The Seal!”
Far away over the tumbling crests of the incoming waves shone a bright light—the searchlight of the Seal.
