Chapter 44
WE SEE THE STARS
When facing the dangers, mysteries, horrors (and other things) of our descent to this strange and wonderful subterranean land of Drome, how often did I say to myself:
"If ever I get out of this, never anything like it again!"
And I truly believed it at the time, though I should have known better. I should have known—I did know that adventure and mystery have inexplicable and most dreadful charms. Indeed, the more fearful the Unknown, the more eager a man (one who has heard the Siren song which adventure and mystery sing) is to penetrate to its secret places—unless, indeed, the charms of some Lepraylya or Drorathusa entwine themselves about the heart. In my case—well, Amor ordinem nescit.
Here was I in the Golden City; here was everything, it would seem to another, that could conduce to contentment, to that peace of mind which is dearer that all. And yet I was restless and very unhappy.
And the Unknown was calling, calling and calling for me to come. To what? Perhaps to wonders the like of which Science never has dreamed. Perhaps to horrors and mysteries from which the imagination of even a Dante or a Doré would shrink, would flee in mad terror—things nameless, worse than any seen in a horrible dream.
But I wanted to go. Yes, I would go. I would go into that fearful land of Grawngrograr—discover its mysteries or perish in the attempt.
And I am going, too. That journey has not been abandoned, only delayed.