The daughter of the dawn

by William Reginald Hodder

I rose from my log near the camp fire, and walked round the clump of high trees. There I thought long thoughts of the many issues that crowded about the unknown cave in the great rock on the other side of the plain. I wondered where Kahikatea was. I thought of Cazotl and his wizard minion with a creep of horror. Then, by association of ideas, my thoughts ran down to the Vile Tohungas in the abyss. As the rising moon threw his light up into the sky above the mountain wall I stood a second time, in imagination, on those giant steps in the Pit, and watched the head of the tallest image hewn out again from the dark by the descending ray of the moon flooding down through the giants’ window. How like the vile granite face was that of the fiend of Crystal’s pictured dream! How very like the receding brow, the long flat nose, and the leering lips were those of Cazotl himself! Ngaraki was waiting there, in the darkness, ready to add his awful curses to those which extended back into the past—how far the aged moon herself, who had looked in upon it from the beginning of the human world, alone knew.

With an inward shudder at these thoughts I turned and retraced my steps to the camp fire, where I found Grey and Crystal sitting side by side, and hand in hand. I seated myself on the other side of the fire and said nothing. The moon, concealed by the trees behind me, had risen above the mountain wall, for I could see the silver light on the tip of a pine that towered above the gloom of the gully. It crept down into the rolling foliage of the lower trees, and touched a crag that stood out from the hillside. Just below this crag I could see the two slaves crouching over their fire, the glow of the embers on their faces and bare shoulders. Suddenly one of them uttered a sharp exclamation and made a movement. A moment afterwards the other clapped his hand to his chest and said something I could not catch. Then they remained looking into the fire as before.

While I was idly wondering what had startled them I heard a twig snap in the darkness on my right, just beyond the light of the fire. Almost at the same moment there was a faint hiss, and Grey started, moved his hand to his shoulder, withdrew it, and inspected a small object, which finally, with an expression of surprise, he threw into the fire, where it burned rapidly with changing colours, emitting with its escaping gas a weird little moan that I remembered too well. Another hiss followed, and Crystal gave a little cry, raised both hands to her right breast, sprang up and staggered some paces away, where she remained standing motionless like one in a trance. The firelight showed her face as I had seen it by the lightning’s glare on that other terrible night with the wizard.

In an instant I leapt to my feet, snatched my revolver from my hip pocket and fired three shots into the darkness where I had heard the twig snap. In reply came the hissing sound again, and something struck me in the chest. Then the wild laugh of the wizard negro sounded in my ears from far away among the hills.

Quick as thought I plucked at the dart in my chest and drew it out. Then, raising my hand I was about to fire again, when a deep voice from the darkness said, “You cannot fire! My voice is the only thing—you cannot fire!”

Quick thrills passed up and down my spine. The back of my head seemed as if it had been removed. In vain I strove to pull the trigger, but could not. In an instant I realised I was helpless. Then I saw the powerful figure of Cazotl advance into the light of the fire. His shining eyes, his long flat nose, his leering lips, on which rested a sneer that seemed to flow down his glossy beard, were revealed by the leaping flames. Yes, he was a fiend of ungainly but tremendous frame. As he towered there by the side of the fire the sight of him conveyed a horror to my soul. I tried to gnash my teeth, but could not.

“You can cover me with that revolver,” he said in a careless tone, which nevertheless carried conviction with it; “but you cannot fire. You can watch me, but you can neither move from where you stand nor cry out. Don’t you believe me? It is quite true—see here!”

He came towards me, and placing his great chest against the muzzle of my revolver, said: “Your finger is on the trigger, and if you were able, a touch would send a bullet through my heart; but you can’t do it, not even to save that pure and lovely girl.” He pointed to the white figure of Crystal, standing motionless at a little distance.

Heaven knows how I tried to pull that trigger and send the ball through his heart, but my powers of volition were gone—I was helpless under the powerful influence of the drug and the voice which was ‘the only thing.’

He moved away, and, as he had said, I found I could keep him covered with my revolver and watch his movements, but that was all. He turned and said something in a harsh, foreign tongue to someone in the darkness, and presently, in answer to his order, the wizard negro came within the light, and, putting an armful of sticks on the fire, hurried away for more. Cazotl bent over Grey, and, smoothing his eyelids down, said “Sleep!” Grey sank back immediately and lay still. He also was under the power of the drug.