CHAPTER XXVI
Once before, I had been to Gahna. It lay to one side, but fairly close to the entrance to the Water of Wild Things. Like Rax, it was built of marine vegetation—a narrow cylinder standing on end. There was a slight current to the water here. The city sustained upright by its air-pods overhead—nevertheless leaned to one side under pressure of the current. From a distance, it looked like your leaning tower of Pisa.
It was a beautiful city—less densely populated and more beautiful than Rax. Its exterior surfaces—its sides and top—were laid out in parks and gardens. Large houses, many-balconied, with ferns and flowers. And the entire top one broad public garden.
In the King’s sleigh we went there now. The water between the two cities was deserted. We passed straggling figures coming from Gahna—broken, bleeding figures—Marinoid refugees escaping for their lives. They came on, swimming slowly, painfully. We passed a girl, floundering, then sinking inert.
Ahead lay the dim distance. The water was pale green with its glowing, inherent light. Then it began tinting red. Atar gripped me, trembling with the horror of what we knew lay ahead; and the King urged his dolphin faster.
Then, Gahna! The outlines of the city loomed before us. A ring of hovering predatory figures surrounded it! We could see other figures launching themselves out from the streets, desperately; and the waiting figures surging upon them.
We halted our dolphin; and presently, still at a distance, we mounted over the city, to gaze down into its garden roof. A crowd of mermaids were huddled there—huddled in groups, trying to hide in the clumps of ferns.
But the half-breeds sought them out. Swords flashed silver, then red. Faint screams of agony floated up to us.
Slowly we passed over the city. A Marinoid girl clung to an air-pod. Three men, dead-white of flesh, saw her there. They dove at her . . . their arms entwined her, tore at her robe. Two of the men swam aside, laughing. The other persisted; and at the girl’s resistance he suddenly drew a dagger and plunged it into her breast, furious because his comrades were laughing at him.
There was a balconied, terraced home. Through the red haze that now stained the water everywhere, we saw a man and woman and little child huddled in a corner of the roof. From a roof-doorway to the house below, a group of half-breed men appeared. They rushed at the Marinoid man . . . a scuffle and the man lay dead. Two of the assailants dragged the woman away . . . she was fighting them, screaming with terror, and they cuffed her face to subdue her. . . . Two half-breeds were left with the child. One drew his sword, but the other held him back, producing from his robe a struggling white thing—a needle-fish. Then they tossed the child upward into the water, launched the fish at it. Through the child’s soft body, the fish bore its way.
And everywhere it was the same. We swung upward, beyond sound of the screams. But the red in the water followed us. Figures were plunging from the city at every point; but few escaped the waiting ring of half-breeds. The water darkened with the blood that was added to it.
Slowly, sick at heart, we retraced our way to Rax. And then the crowning blow. Our guards at the entrance to the Water of Wild Things had been set upon and defeated. A few had escaped to bring the news. Og’s Maagog army was advancing through the coral! With our preparations still incomplete, the Maagogs were striking!
The war had begun!
The Maagogs were striking. The war had begun!
I do not like to remember in detail the scene around the King’s palace which followed this sinister news. The city, so gay, so carefree a few hours before, was a turmoil of confusion, of terror—almost of panic.
To the palace the people crowded. The cube of water was jammed with a frightened, expectant throng—a throng that looked to its ruler for protection—for advice, for commands.
This throng before the palace clamoured for the King to tell them what to do. With my Nona and Boy beside me I was inside the building—in a room with the King and Queen, Atar and Caan.
I shall never forget that scene. To make you appreciate it, I shall have to remind you that never before in the reign of this King had an enemy menaced his domains. And this Marinoid civilization—as I now realize it to have been—was very primitive.
In a word, our King at this crisis was flurried. His preparations for war were in truth but vague and impractical. The Marinoids did not know the meaning of an army. Maagogs were coming to kill them; Marinoids must fight in defense.
That was the extent of the King’s plans. He sat in his carved shell on the throne-platform, and we others crowded around him anxiously. Outside the palace, the shouts of the frightened mob floated in to us through the water.
“The Maagogs!” said Atar. “They are coming through the coral barrier! Our guards there have been defeated—killed most of them—and the rest have fled.”
“Coming here?” I asked. “Will they come here to Rax, do you think?”
The King looked at us hopelessly. “Here—to Rax? They cannot. I am not ready. We must arm to repulse them. They must not come so soon.”
“Before this Time of Sleep is over they will be here,” Caan declared gloomily.
Two of the King’s Councillors appeared swimming into the room—old men, terrified nearly out of their wits. They huddled down beside us; and one of them said:
“At the Cavern, my King, they are waiting your orders.”
The shouts outside grew louder, more insistent.
“The King!”
“Where is the King?”
“Let him speak to us—tell us what to do!”
“We are ready to fight! Death to the Maagogs! Our King! We want our King!”
“Father!” cried Atar. “Speak to them! Command them! Now, or panic will come and we are lost.”
The King rose to his feet uncertainly. “Yes, speak to them—of course I will.”
A woman swam hurriedly into the apartment—a serving woman to the Queen. “My King, the people are arriving from the forests and the mudbanks. They are crowding into Rax—they do not know where to go or what to do.”
The rural population! Coming into the city for protection.
“I will speak to them,” the King repeated—he said it numbly, as in a daze. “I must tell them something. . . . Atar, my son, we must plan something, you and I. But there is no time—the Maagogs are coming so soon.”
It was then that my Nona whispered to me. Vehemently, with her soft arms entwined about my neck. Inspiring words! My blood raced hot through my veins.
“I?”
“You!” she insisted. “You, Nemo!”
Where was I born? I do not know. But I must have come from some great civilization. Latent within me were powers I little realized; and in that instant of crisis, with the inspiration of Nona’s words, the blood of my ancestors dominated me.
I flung myself up into the water and waved my arms at the astonished King.
“A leader!” I cried. “We Marinoids need a man who will lead us to victory. It is I—Nemo—who will command! Og is coming. I will oppose him. I—the Stranger—with my woman Nona!”
I caught Atar’s excited gaze; I added: “With you, Atar, to help me, we will win!” The King was more confused than ever, but I saw that he was pleased—relieved. And my Nona’s eyes were upon me. Pride, joy and love for me was in them.
“Come,” I said to the King. “I will talk to the people, with you beside me. And you will tell them that Nemo—the Stranger within their gates—is in command!”
We went to a little balcony outside the throne-room window. The crowd fell silent when it saw us. At the railing we stood beside each other, with Nona, Atar and the rest crowding the doorway behind us.
The King, with the responsibility of leadership removed from him so unexpectedly, had recovered his poise. He put one of his arms about my shoulder as smilingly he showed me to the people. It was a throng so dense that all I could see was a mass of faces and bodies. Silence, then a wavering cheer.
The King extended his other arms; and he told the hushed people that I was to be their leader. They cheered; but there was an ominous undercurrent of murmuring that went with it.
I was thinking swiftly—planning what I would say—what I should tell them to do. And I must admit that in that first moment, I was confused myself. But no one should see it. I knew that most of all I must appear confident; and talk to them inspiringly—perhaps bombastically.
“My beloved people; the great God of the Marinoids sent me to you,” I began. “To lead you against this traitor Og. Glorious times are ahead of us, my people. Victory—”
But the murmur of dissent was growing! A voice shouted a raucous jibe.
“Wait! Listen to me, all of you. This Og, whom once I fought before you all—” It was an unfortunate allusion; I had lost that combat with Og. “Silence!” I shouted over the noise. “Into the Water of Wild Things I have just been—and from this self-same Og recovered my woman Nona.”
But the mingled cheers and jibes halted me. I could feel that the King’s arm around me was trembling.
He whispered to me quaveringly: “Go on, Nemo. Tell them—”
But my Nona suddenly sprang forward, up to the parapet.
“Women of the Marinoids—” Her voice to the women of the crowd rang out clear and silenced the confusion.
“Women of the Marinoids! This is war! We women—our children—our homes, are threatened! Do we fight, or do we sit by while our men defend us? Women of the Marinoids—answer me!”
They did answer her. Their shouts of applause came up—enthusiastic shouts of the women in which the cheering voices of the men were mingled.
And over it all came Nona’s cry: “I knew you would say that!”
My wonderful Nona! She was dominating them. Her glorious arms—smooth as pink marble—went out to them appealingly.
“We are but women, frail of body. But the spirit of battle is strong within us.”
Then she called upon all the women who were young and strong like herself—bade them come now to the palace roof-top.
“Come!” she cried. “Let us show our men what sort of women are theirs. Come now, and Nona—the Stranger’s woman—will command you in the battle!”
They came. From out of the crowd they swam upward—the fairest, most beautiful of the Marinoid girls—and settled upon the palace roof. Two hundred of them perhaps. It was inspiring. It could not help but be—and my Nona knew it and had planned it thus. The men, seeing them gather, cheered loudly and called upon me to lead them to protect their women.
It saved the situation for the King and me. Nona swam upward.
“My man Nemo will command you men,” she shouted. “And I will lead the women.”
She gazed down at me. “We women will wait for your orders, my Nemo.”
And among the girls she took her place—waiting.
I had made my decisions. The crowd now was with me. In a breath, I knew, the news of my leadership would spread through the city.
I spoke. I knew that my voice now carried the real confidence of authority; and the crowd knew it. I commanded that all the older women, old men and children should go to their homes, bar their doors and windows, and wait. All men, able-bodied, I ordered to the roof of the city, there to wait for their arms and equipment which very soon would be furnished them. They were to divide themselves into two groups; older men whose power of giving the electric shock was waning; and those younger in whom it was still at its height.
As I began giving orders, the things I must do multiplied in my mind. A score of the fastest swimmers in the city I bade come to me at once in the throne-room of the palace. I wished to send them to the entrance of the Water of Wild Things to bring us news of the enemy’s advance; to send them throughout the forests and the mudbanks—to order everyone living there to come into Rax.
There were three other Marinoid cities besides Rax and Gahna—small, unimportant cities. My couriers would order them to prepare as Rax was preparing—and send their fighting men at once to the roof of Rax.
Other things I thought of. Gahna, we must abandon. Its Marinoid population was massacred; the half-breeds held it in full possession. I did not mention this now to the crowd. But I told them that every half-breed encountered in Rax was to be killed.
“The refugees coming here from the mudbanks,” Atar whispered, to remind me.
All refugees into Rax I ordered to divide into two groups, the fighting men to come to the roof of the city; the others, women, old men and children, to seek quarters in the homes of Rax. Any household would take them in. . . .
The people were dispersing, following my orders. Nona, with her girls, was waiting on the palace roof. I signed her to swim down to me.
“Select a girl to command them, under you,” I said swiftly. “And my Nona, you were wonderful.”
Her caress answered me.
“Give Boy to Caan’s woman, Nona—to take home. Kiss him for me—our Boy.”
Even in the haste of that moment, I remember how thankful I was that Boy was too young to fight. Yet Nona wished to fight, you exclaim! True—but can you guess how cold my heart was within me at the thought of it?
“Then, Nona, join me in the throne-room. We must go to the Cavern.”
I dispatched my couriers. And those I sent to spy upon the enemy carried with them my unspoken prayer that they would bring back word we had at least a few hours to prepare. A few hours! This Marinoid was a very little nation, as you would reckon it. Yet warfare cannot be planned upon such short notice.