A sharp piece of stone jutted out above Alan’s head. “Help me,” he said feverishly to his cousin. “This is our last hope—this is as sharp as a knife. If we can but loosen it you must help me to imbed it in the brute’s head. It is stunned now—we must try and overpower it while it is in that condition.” All the time they were talking they were working hard to loosen the stone and at last it fell into Alan’s hands. It was not very large, but it had an edge like a bayonet, and was of intense hardness.

Cautiously they forced their way on either side of the twisting mass, until they were on a level with its head. “There,” whispered Desmond. “Just between the eyes.”

The stone was raised; the huge beast was motionless—then, with almost superhuman power, Alan brought the stone down and embedded it deeply in the flesh, while as Alan let go, Desmond hurled a heavy piece of stone hammer-wise on the top of the stone, and buried the sharp edge still deeper in the gaping wound. The great snake woke to consciousness, and the boys had only just time to get out of the way of its gaping jaws. “Press yourself close to the wall, Dez,” commanded Alan, and they reached Jez-Riah’s side in safety. Their eyes dilated with horror as they watched the great reptile die, for the boys between them had given it its death blow.

How long the death struggle lasted they never knew. Alan thought an hour, Desmond said two. Blood poured from the wound in its head and a sickly smell rose from the liquid. For some time the stone remained fixed in the flesh of the serpent, but its writhings at last loosened it, and it fell to the ground with a horrible thud, while the blood rushed out of the open wound like a miniature fountain.

Fascinated the three watched its last movements. The body rolled from side to side, dashing first against one then against the other of the unlucky prisoners, but by flattening themselves against the walls, they escaped any big injury—only bruises left their mark to show what they had been through.

The movements became more irregular. For a long time the mighty snake remained quite still, only to wake up again after a rest with renewed energy. At last its spasms became less frequent and less powerful. It was dying. Its breath came like huge sobs that travelled down its body. The stench was almost unendurable. “I think it’s safe now,” said Alan at last. Slowly they moved from their cramped positions. Their hearts throbbed and their limbs ached. Fearsomely they gave a last look at the head of the dying, if not already dead, monster. A shudder ran through them all. The strain through which they had passed had been terrible, but for Alan, who had engineered the defeat, it had been terrific. His limbs ached, his head swam, and he reeled as he walked on the free ground, unpolluted by the serpent. He laughed a wild unnatural laugh; it sounded strange even in his own ears, and he repeated it, as he wondered whether he was indeed going mad. He felt suddenly unaccountably frightened. Everything faded from him but the memory of the serpent behind. With another peal of almost senseless laughter, he ran madly away into the distance, until the darkness swallowed him up, and only the sound of his wild laughter broke the stillness. Jez-Riah clutched at her throat and spoke to Desmond. “Ar-lane—he is ill—come,” said she, and the two followed Alan away into the blackness as he sped on, laughing—laughing—laughing.

CHAPTER VII
ON THE WAY TO THE TOMB OF KORAH

Time passed—time that had no measure—time that seemed an eternity. They had all recovered from their encounter with the Sacred Serpent, but the adventure had left them nervous and irritable. There was food in plenty, and the luscious roots gave them both meat and drink. Always upward they mounted—and as they saw the mountainous paths rise before them, hope held out her encouraging hand, and whispered that one day they might even see the stars. Jez-Riah still led them on, through untold paths and a labyrinthine maze. She always maintained that she knew the right path to take.

Sometimes they had to crawl on their hands and knees through narrow and low passages that seemed to have no end. At other times they found themselves in wide, airy byways with a height almost beyond computation, for far above their heads they could just catch the faintest glimmer of light on the purple growth that covered the roof. Now and again springs bubbled up from the earth and ran along beside them, burying themselves as suddenly as they had appeared. The atmosphere was very sultry and fetid—very different from the air on the other side of the underground river that separated the underworld people from the desolate region they were now in. “How long, Jez-Riah?” they asked her over and over again. “How long before we reach the Tomb of Korah?” And her answer was the same each time. “Oh Men of the World Above, I do not tarry, I am leading you to the Tomb as fast as I can. Be content with that.” So the days passed—so the nights came round again. Days which had no night, nights which had no day. Time was measured by sleep. When they were all weary they lay down to rest and sleep. This they called night—when they awoke they called it day. But they had lost count of the times they had slept since Jez-Riah had come to them, they had lost count of everything. They had only one object before them—to reach the Tomb of Korah. Their plans ended there; they had no idea what their next move would be after they reached it. They had grown accustomed to their strange, purple companion—in fact she had become almost a necessity to them both. It was she who passed many weary hours for them, by recounting stories of the life of her people since they had lived below. It was she who told them even more fully than Har-Barim had done, how her people’s forefathers had risen up against Musereah, and Har-Raeon, and how they had consequently suffered throughout the ages. And both the boys translated Musereah as Moses, and Har-Raeon as Aaron, and were more than ever convinced that strange as the story was, this new race was indeed descended from the Israelites of the Old Testament and could claim Korah, Abiram and Dathan as its progenitors.

It was Jez-Riah who told them that behind a barred gate was built a golden tomb wherein had been deposited the remains of their first priests—“Har-Barim and Kartharn.” It was at their shrine that the ceremonies attached to the feast of Meherut were performed. It was their Holy of Holies, and it was over the bones of Har-Barim and Kartharn that the priests made their vows.