CHAPTER XXI
What were we to do? With such a choice, what could we say? Soon Og would return for his answer! The water of the cave still seemed ringing with his grim, sardonic voice.
Hopelessly we sat down for discussion. Nona sat on one of the seats where but a few moments before a Maagog mother had dropped and yielded up her infant to the boiling torrent beyond the grating. I shuddered and pulled Nona away. On the floor, near the center of the cave, we gathered in a huddled group. I braced my feet in the mud, for the current pressed us toward that ghastly grating, beyond which lay death.
The cave was silent save for the sinister hiss of steam beneath it. In the lurid green glow of the lamp overhead our faces were livid, death-like. Death hung all about us. An unseen, imponderable spectre, it seemed to lurk in the very water we breathed.
We were alone—yet not alone either. At the tunnel-mouth those squat black fishes circled back and forth on guard. Occasionally two or three would enter the cave. Poised before us, their eyes seemed gauging us. Uncanny eyes! Eyes almost like those of an intelligent dog whose master has set him to guard an enemy and who is watching suspiciously, expectantly, that enemy’s every move. We lowered our voices subconsciously, as though fearing that the black fishes would hear us and understand.
At first we had little to say. It was all so hopeless. We could not allow Og to return us to Rax and yield up Nona to him. That was unthinkable. And yet, if we did not— The memory of those infants’ bodies as they slid downward into the boiling torrent made us shudder with a fear that is implanted deep in every human heart.
Cowards? I do not think you could call us that. But the man who tells you he has faced death—in a calm moment of physical inactivity—without fear, is a liar.
We were all of us afraid, numbed, confused. Abruptly Atar laughed. But his laugh was hollow.
“We must plan something,” he said. “We sit here like terrified children.”
It was Caan who outlined the situation for us. “Og,” he said, “undoubtedly wanted us to accept freedom. He could easily kill us now and keep Nona; but he wanted Nona’s promise to be his willing, smiling queen. None other would the Maagogs have.”
We could, therefore, count upon Og’s returning us three men to Rax, if that were our choice. But could we? It was I who voiced the question. Caan had suggested that possibly we could get to Rax and return at once with others to help us rescue Nona.
“How do we know that Og will not betray us at the last moment?” I demanded. “How easily can he take us to the entrance to Marinoid waters, and there murder us! Returning here, he would tell Nona we were safe in Rax, and hold her to her promise.”
It was thus, doubtless, the crafty Og was planning. He wanted Nona’s promise—and yet certainly he would not want us three men back in Rax, with our knowledge of the Maagog plans, and of the coming war.
Then Nona herself suggested a possible way out of our desperate situation.
“I shall tell Og,” she cried, “that we cannot be sure he will live up to his promise. If he returns you to Rax, I will agree to be his queen. His smiling queen.” She shuddered, and her body pressed against mine. “I shall tell him that. And, Nemo, do you not understand? I shall tell him he must take me also to the Marinoid entrance so that I may see you three swim safely into Marinoid waters. He will do that, no doubt. And there—at the last moment—you will fight—we will all fight.”
Her white face turned to me; her beautiful lips were pressed grimly together. “Fight, my Nemo! Then we shall escape—if we can surprise him. Or at least we shall all die together.”
To such a desperate plan our despair forced us. It seemed the only way. We discussed it—for how long I cannot say. And then, abruptly we saw Og again in the tunnel-mouth. The black fishes were swarming about him—fawning upon him with their grewsome whines of pleasure. He stopped to stroke one of them.
“You have decided?” he said to us.
“Yes,” said Atar.
Fear seemed to have dropped from our young prince. For the first time since we left Rax, he dominated Caan and me. He stood now fronting Og unflinching—his face white and set, his eyes smouldering.
But his lips were smiling. “We do not desire death,” he said. “We will return to Rax, and she will give the promise you ask.”
He turned to Nona, signing her to speak. “You will trust him to send us safely to Rax?” he added.
“No!” cried Nona. And she added, with a flow of woman’s words, the proposal we had planned—her insistence that she be taken along to see us safely into Marinoid waters.
Og listened silently. Then he gazed from one to the other of us. The crafty smile on his face made my heart sink.
“You think perhaps to escape with her on the journey?” he suggested. And when we did not answer, his arm waved away the idea. “I shall take care that you do not.” Then to Nona: “You speak well, my queen. For your promise I will do much. You shall go.”
Again he was silent, pondering. I could almost see some new murderous scheme taking form in his brain. He added suddenly:
“Of course, you shall go, Queen of the Maagogs, if that is your wish.”
He turned toward the tunnel mouth. The black fishes were crowded there, staring at us. Og’s sardonic laugh rang out.
“Patience, little black ones. You will go with us, of course. You will go to see that my queen does not escape me!”
He swung back to Atar, and said curtly: “During the next sleep time we will start. The Maagogs—some of them—think I ought to kill you now—not send you back to Rax. We will leave while they are asleep—to avoid trouble. I shall come for you then.”
He bowed ironically to Nona, swam to the tunnel-mouth, and with a parting admonition to the fishes gathered there, he disappeared.
Again we were alone. Our plans already had miscarried. We realized it. As though our thoughts had been written on our faces, Og had understood our purpose. There would be no chance for us to escape with Nona. The black fishes were going with us. And during that coming journey, we knew Og intended to kill us men—kill us and still make Nona think we were safe—hold her to her promise.
Time passed. The warm water of the cave oppressed us—yet we were all cold with fear and despair. The very silence of the room seemed sinister—that tense silence that urges one to scream. We were not talking now—we were thinking—planning a thousand desperate, impractical plans, all of which seemed to mean nothing but death for us men, and worse than death for Nona. It must be now the Time of Sleep . . . Og would be back soon . . . I held my Nona close—waiting. . . .
In the tunnel a dim human figure appeared, taking shape out of the distant blackness of the passageway. It was swimming swiftly but silently toward us. Through the moving ranks of the black fishes circling there, it threaded its way.
But it was not Og! And then we saw it was a woman—a Maagog woman—Maaret, the girl!
Nona was nearest to the tunnel. I flung myself forward to protect her. But just inside our cave Maaret stopped. Her furtive glance swept the tunnel behind her.
Then she turned to me. And her gesture warned us all to be silent!