And as the Arabian looked he beheld Aldarin apply the mouth of a small silver phial which he held in his hand, to the surface of the gem, while a meaning smile stole over his face.
The fire blazing on the cavern floor, lighted up with sudden vigor, and white columns of smoke, rolling from the silver phial, gathered in waving folds above the head of Aldarin, and swept far away, like the wings of a mighty bird, until they encircled the giant outline of the Demon Form, towering far, far overhead.
“Ibrahim, my brother,” cried the voice of Aldarin, “I would welcome the Arisen-Dead with sweet perfumes and fragrant incense. ’Tis thus the Book commands!”
He looked forth from the cloud of smoke that enveloped his form, and started in surprise as he beheld the erect form of the Arabian.
The chemical spell, from whose influence the Scholar had defended himself, took no effect on the form of the Arabian Prince.
“The all-penetrating essence of the dead pervading the cavern and imbuing the atmosphere, renders the spell powerless!” he murmured with a frown of impatience. “And yet Aldarin and his new-risen brother must have no witness of their mighty mysteries! Though he had a thousand lives, still must he carry my secret where ’twill be safe—to—ha, ha, to the grave!”
“The sands of the glass are falling,” cried Ibrahim advancing, “one-fourth of the last hour alone remains!”
“And while that fragment of time is gathered to eternity, the Water of Life is darting like lightning through the body of the dead—and—and—yet hold a moment, good Ibrahim! Dost thou not envy my immortal career? Dost desire to drink the Water of Life? Lo, the flagon is at thy command—drink, Ibrahim, and become immortal!”
“Drink I will!” exclaimed Ibrahim with a meaning smile, as he took the flagon in his grasp which the Scholar had substituted for the phial containing the Water of Life—“Drink I will, but first I will give thee a proof of my power!”
“Thy power? I am all amazement—”