The Treasure of Atlantis, J. Allan Dunn [read aloud .TXT] 📗
- Author: J. Allan Dunn
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The spokeswoman turned to Leola, half-fearfully. The unasked question was in her silent glance.
“It is true,” the high priestess admitted calmly.
As swiftly as waves retreat from a sloping beach, the priestesses of Pasiphae drew back from Leola as a thing abhorred, whose touch would befoul them. Only one remained close to her; it was the one whom Kiron had called Lycida. She hesitated for a moment as the others moved away sullenly. Then she stepped to Leola’s side, lifting her head fearlessly, and checked the high priestess before she could speak.
“Then I, too,” she said, looking scornfully at her fellows, “abjure my vows. My respect for her is stronger than my devotion to Pasiphae. The vows of friendship to flesh and blood are stronger than those to a goddess in the souls of whose followers humanity is as lifeless as the flame that died last night upon the altar of the shrine.”
Her voice rang out fearlessly, and her dark eyes flashed.
“So be it,” said Ru grimly. “You have cast your lot with flesh and blood, and your fate is entwined with the fate of Leola. The gods will appreciate another offering. Tomorrow, at dawn, you may have cause for regret when you face an offended Pasiphae at the entrance of the underworld.”
Lycida shivered, but stood as straight as an arrow.
“We will give them into your keeping,” continued Ru to the priestesses. “We will await you in the Hall of Sacrifice an hour before sunrise.”
It was a shrewd move that allied the irate votaries of Pasiphae with him in the judgment that he had declared. He had no wish to offend them at the present. There was time enough for that later on.
The first priestess, whose eyes already held a look of satisfied ambition, hesitated for only a moment. At a sign from her, the armed priestesses closed in about Leola and her companion and led them from the hall.
The sound of their departure had barely died away when there was a noise of confusion in the antechamber. The clang of a shield, the quick clatter of weapons, and the imperious voice of Kiron ordered the guards to stand aside.
A little phalanx of nobles entered, swords in hand. They were armored in helmets, breastplates, and greaves, and their sword arms were protected from wrist to elbow by plates of bronze. With them were the personal attendants of the young king, the Indians Maya and Xolo who flanked Laidlaw, and Kiron himself. The scientist and the two Indians held rifles. Thrusting the guards aside, they surrounded Morse, their shields welded into an unbreakable barrier.
“This time, Ru, you have usurped your prerogatives,” said Kiron. “This man and this”—he indicated Morse and Laidlaw—“can hardly be called strangers. On the contrary, they are citizens and nobles of Atlantis, members of the Brotherhood of Kol, epoptae and mystae of the ritual over which you presided. They can be judged only by the will of the people.”
Ru’s face grew scarlet, and the veins on his forehead stood out as if he had been lashed.
“This we will not countenance!” he shrieked. “Our shrines have been profaned. Their lives are forfeit. Be careful that you do not involve yourself!”
He struck a gong that hung upon a tripod close by him. Above its sound broke a heavy detonation, and again the palace shook to its foundations.
“Listen to the voice of Minos,” cried Ru. “Atlantis
is shaken. We lie in the hollow of his palm. Beware or he will close it and crush us.”
In answer to the sound of the gong, a company of guards appeared behind Ru to strengthen his position. Consternation reigned among the feasters. The violence of the tremor and the ferocity of Ru’s speech frightened them, and the priest was quick to recognize this. The terror of the moment had invested him with all the ancient powers of his office.
“Seize them!” he cried, and the guards rushed at the little force who stood firm to the attack, outnumbered though they were. A clash of bronze upon bronze sounded as Kiron and his men fiercely resisted the crush of men who sought to cut them down by shear weight of numbers.
Morse and Laidlaw, joined by Maya and Xolo, forced their way into the front ranks, and opened fire, the first use of firearms that the Atlanteans had ever witnessed. The noise of the rifles and automatics was almost lost in the fierce combat, but Ru’s guards saw the spitting fire and shrank back before the stream of lead that smashed through flesh and bone and left a dozen of their number on the floor.
Morse caught a glimpse of the head and shoulders of Ru behind the mass of guards, and he fired without taking aim. The bullet smashed against the golden headpiece that the high priest wore and sent it banging to the floor. Ru bobbed low with surprising alacrity and kept out of sight behind his guards.
“Quickly!” shouted Kiron, as the attack slackened. “Before they can cut us off.”
Still facing their opponents, the little band backed slowly through the door and then hastened along the corridor to Kiron’s quarters. A few of the party had been wounded in the short conflict, and these were treated as Kiron revealed his doings to the Americans.
“I sent a messenger to your apartments and learned from the Indians that you had left instructions not to be disturbed. After a little while Ru was interrupted by some of his men who talked excitedly, although I could not hear what was said. An evil but satisfying look came over his face as he exchanged a word with Rana,
and then his men rushed off with new instructions.
“As soon as the opportunity presented itself, I slipped away to your apartments. Maya admitted that you were not there, and I set out to find you. The boat that I had lent you was gone, and a little distance from there I found a fisherman who told me of an incoming barge that held prisoners from Sele. Messages were sent to Laidlaw and these men whom I felt certain I could count on, and we armed ourselves. You know the rest. What do you know of Leola?”
Morse told him and the king’s face became pale and hard as he heard of the devotion of the priestess, Lycida.
“They left the palace by another way,” he said slowly. “If I had met them…” he paused and let his sentence go unfinished, fighting deep emotion. Finally he gained control of himself.
“We cannot stay here indefinitely. The doors are solid, but Ru will inflame all of Atlantis against us. They are already in mortal fear from the earth tremors. The fisherman told me that the western waters are white with dead fish, and the paint on his boat was blistered with the heat. The volcanic cloud is red with the reflection of fire.”
He turned to the nobles who had fought for him. “I do not wish to embroil you in this quarrel, my friends. Yet, I am afraid that you are already marked men.”
“Your cause is ours, Kiron,” one of them answered for all.
“Good! If I can get word to my villa, there are fifty men there who are well-trained in the use of arms. But our numbers will still remain too few,” he mused sadly.
“Leola and her friend must be rescued,” interposed Morse quietly but firmly. “Ru plans to sacrifice them at dawn. We must reach them somehow. A raid on Sele—”
“We would be cut down before we reached the boats,” said Kiron.
“Then a bold stroke in the temple. Can you gain us entrance somehow? If we could hide ourselves until the right moment, seize the girls, and fight out way to the tunnel, we might have a chance. The guns will hold
them off if we can take them by surprise.”
Kiron looked at Morse doubtfully.
“It is the only thing we can do,” he agreed finally. “It is a desperate chance. Your death tubes may aid us to win through, but I think Ru will be certain to guard the tunnel. But I can gain access to the temple by the royal entrance. It opens only to my touch, and even Ru does not have the secret. The passage leads from here to the chamber of Tele, the astrologer. He will help us, for he has no love for Ru. The priests hate him because he will not read the stars to suit their will.”
A fierce hammering sounded on the metal doors that shut off the wing from the rest of the palace. Maya appeared to tell them that Ru’s forces had mustered for an attack.
“If the doors will hold them for awhile, ” said Morse, “we can collect our ammunition and make our way to your astrologer.”
On the outside, men battered savagely at the doors. It took only a few moments to secure the arms, the flashlights, and the field glasses. They stepped into the large room that housed the king’s pool, and Kiron moved to its side, reaching for some unseen object beneath the water’s surface. There was a rush of water, and the pool emptied rapidly.
Kiron turned and motioned them down a flight of steps.
Along the side of the pool, a series of bronze rings were set for handholds. The king inspected them carefully, selected one, and gave it a peculiar twist to the side. A low door appeared, and they passed through, followed by the nobles who had cast their lot with the king. The passage was pitch dark. Laidlaw switched on his flashlight and by its light Kiron found a lever set in the wall. As he pulled it, the door behind them closed quickly, and the sound of water was easily distinguishable. The pool was being refilled.
“The doors should hold them,” said Kiron hopefully. “I made sure that they were well built. By the time they have them down, the pool will have reached its normal level. Let me lead. There are other tricks that make this hidden way secure.”
The hidden way led downward with sudden dips and turns. Along the route they passed through two ancient doors, both several inches thick and encased in metal. They were opened only after Kiron had spoken through a tube and set in motion delicately balanced machinery that was controlled by the action of a diaphragm. Finally, they came to the end of the passage—to face a blank wall.
Silencing his companions, Kiron blew into a pipe that ran into the wall. For a minute nothing happened, and then a soft, muffled whistle penetrated back through the tube. Laidlaw and Morse exchanged glances as Kiron spoke swiftly into the tube and stepped back. The wall slid silently away, and they crowded into a room that was almost filled by the numbers of their party.
An old man, bowed nearly double, so that his straggling beard swept the floor, greeted them. The men of the king’s party moved a step backward, involuntarily, awed to be in the presence of the astrologer who could read in the stars the secrets of their life and death.
The stargazer wore a black robe emblazoned with rayed disks worked in gold and silver. On his breast was the representation of the sun, centered by an opal that changed color at every laboring breath. His hands shook palsiedly. The wrinkled skin of his face held the unhealthy pallor of shadowed fungi. Only his two eyes lived, and they mated the opal of the ornament.
His first words halted the king’s speech. “I expected you, Kiron,” he said simply, in a deep voice that was astonishingly vibrant. “You and the strangers.
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