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which had felled the priest.
The rowboat turned further and the ship was lost to his view. Ahead of them,
through the mist, Hiero saw a landing, a stone dock thrust out into the water
from a rocky islet. On the islet
i}0 HIERO'S JOURNEY
above, half-hidden under an upthrust crag, crouched a squat castle, a low
stone keep visible in the center of massive walls, which lay open now to view
through a great gate. The ponderous doors of the castle were flung wide
against the gray walls, which rose up some thirty feet above the surrounding
rock.
Nothing appeared to grow on the islet, and all was gray or black stone. On the
walls1 top, a few figures paced, but not in any regular order. The fortress of
the Unclean seemed guarded not by arms, eyes, or regular sentries of any sort.
The Unclean leader, S'duna, turned from his place in the bow and stared down
at Hiero. Then he pointed to the oily black water through which they were
passing. "Look there, priest! We have many guards and many wards upon our
island. Look and remember! None leave the Dead Isle of Manoon, save by
permission!"
Hiero stared at the water to where the white finger thrust. Close to the boat
and clearly visible, even in the mist and rain, a round thing, several feet
across, emerged, like a segment of greasy hose, magnified many times. As it
turned and twisted, the Metz saw that it was an eyed head, a head of horror.
It was some kind of giant worm creature, whose sucking, round, jawless mouth
could not close, but gaped and contracted rhythmically, full of sharp fangs
set in concentric circles. The thing dived under the boat as he watched, and
he estimated the body to be many yards in length. It had made no sound.
He looked at S'duna and shrugged, very slightly, his face bland and unmoving.
The other smiled malignantly. "You appear a hardy one, I'll give you that,
little priest. Let us see how hardy you remain when we go to visit in our
order's house on Manoon. Is it not a heartwarming place?"
Hiero was now paying little attention. As the boat drew in toward the desolate
island, an assault had begun on his mind. He sensed that S'duna knew of it but
had nothing to do with it. The forces which laired on the isle had been
waiting for Hiero, and their attack was the result of long preparation. It was
both a test and an assault and also, in an odd way, a welcome. He knew that he
was being subjected to enormous and increasing pressures which were intended
to destroy him if they could, yet which might allow him to defend himself if
THE DEAD ISLE iji
he could. And in the very nature of the onslaught, there was an element of
doubt. The Unclean rulers of Manoon did not yet know with what or whom they
were dealing. They could have killed him while he slept. Instead, they were
frightened enough to feel the need to experiment. And they still thought,
apparently, that he somehow could be induced to join them!
He was helped, or rather shoved, onto the stone quay, and with the Howler
behind and the others in front, was marched up the path, paved and smooth,
toward the gate of the Unclean castle.
This last physical exertion, while not especially strenuous, almost overtaxed
his waning strength. He could not estimate how long he had been unconscious,
but he was desperately tired and now felt the need of water and food as well.
He expected none of the amenities, especially rest, however. The advantages to
the enemy of questioning a weakened, half-exhausted prisoner were obvious.
However, the process of holding his mind block against the mental assault,
using his fast-waning physical energy to do so, was wearing him out at a
geometric rate. Halfway to the shallow steps of the fortress, he fell, and
when Chee-Chowk's great paw wrenched him erect, he fell again. He made no
effort to rise, concentrating only on holding the mental barrier, and at the
same time nerve-blocking any unpleasant physical stimuli. As he lay, the
Howler cuffed him but he felt nothing.
S'duna looked down at him thoughtfully. "Wait," he said, lifting a pallid hand
to restrain the Leemute. "Lift him up. It will avail us nothing to have him
die here. He is fast draining himself, and he is wanted for a long period of
arduous questioning, if nothing more. Carry him gently, Chee-Chowk, as you
would one of your dirty cubs, eh?"
The wizard certainly exacted obedience, Hiero had to admit. He was lifted
gently in the great, hairy arms, and although the stink of the creature was
appalling, he could block that out too. Carried, or rather cradled, he passed
under the cold arch of Manoon. Few who entered that place left it, and of
those who opposed the Unclean in their purposes, none at all.
As he was bome into the court of the fortress, the mental assault ceased.
Hiero felt that S'duna had signaled somehow, in a way he could not detect,
that the prisoner was worn out and had best be allowed some respite. Whatever
the cause, the
i?2 HIERO'S JOURNEY
pressure and probing ceased, and although he kept his shield of force firmly
in place, with the rest of his senses he could look about, especially with his
eyes.
The fortress was not especially large. The whole extent inside the stone walls
was perhaps two hundred yards square. Steps led up to the walls' angles, and
as well as being low-walled themselves, the parapets were broad enough to walk
upon. A few hooded figures paced them, the same he had glimpsed from the boat.
There were no armed men about and he saw no obvious weapons in evidence, save
for Chee-Chowk's cleaver.
The square stone keep which lay before them was low, only about three storeys
high, and had few windows. Those it had were narrow and set in no obvious
order. The roof was flat, making the structure look like a great, gray, blank
cube, its shape in some way an affront to any kindly softness or indeed the
human condition. The pavement on which they walked looked like the same stone
slabs as the walls and the fortalice. All seemed to the priest to have been
made with one purpose, an arid and sinister efficiency, one which denied
beauty or taste or even life as "being necessary. Inwardly, far, far inside,
he shuddered, but none knew or saw it by his actions or appearance. And too,
his curiosity could not be quelled entirely, even here. No one had ever
penetrated the lives of the enemy as he was now doing. He musi observe,
despite himself.
They passed through a narrow door and went silently along an ill-lit stone
corridor. The dim blue glow of an occasional fluor provided the only light.
Hiero looked back over the hairy shoulder of his carrier and saw the gray
light of day in the door vanish as they rounded a corner.
Presently, after many baffling turns, the corridor began to go down. At the
same time, the hollow, echoing voice of S'duna reverberated back from in
front.
"Manoon lies truly below, priest. We of the Great Brotherhood find the depths
a relaxant, a shield against the silly clamor of the world. Only in the bowels
of the earth is there the complete silence we crave, the spiritual emptiness
we seek to encourage the growth of pure thought." His words echoed along the
stone corridor in diminishing tones: "Thought, thought, ought, ought." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]