The Greatest Works of Abraham Merritt. Abraham Merritt
they have souls, mavourneen,” Larry said to her. “And they’re alive still — in a way. Anyhow, their souls have not gone from them.”
I caught a hope from his words — sceptic though I am — holding that the existence of soul has never been proved by dependable laboratory methods — for they recalled to me that when I had seen Throckmartin, Edith had been close beside him.
“It was days after his wife was taken, that the Dweller seized Throckmartin,” I cried. “How, if their wills, their life, were indeed gone, how did they find each other mid all that horde? How did they come together in the Dweller’s lair?”
“I do not know,” she answered, slowly. “You say they loved — and it is true that love is stronger even than death!”
“One thing I DON’T understand”— this was Larry again —“is why a girl like you keeps coming out of the black-haired crowd; so frequently and one might say, so regularly, Lakla. Aren’t there ever any red-headed boys — and if they are what becomes of them?”
“That, Larry, I cannot answer,” she said, very frankly. “There was a pact of some kind; how made or by whom I know not. But for long the Murians feared the return of the Taithu and greatly they feared the Three. Even the Shining One feared those who had created it — for a time; and not even now is it eager to face them — THAT I know. Nor are Yolara and Lugur so SURE. It may be that the Three commanded it: but how or why I know not. I only know that it is true — for here am I and from where else would I have come?”
“From Ireland,” said Larry O’Keefe, promptly. “And that’s where you’re going. For ’tis no place for a girl like you to have been brought up — Lakla; what with people like frogs, and a half-god three quarters devil, and red oceans, an’ the only Irish things yourself and the Silent Ones up there, bless their hearts. It’s no place for ye, and by the soul of St. Patrick, it’s out of it soon ye’ll be gettin’!”
Larry! Larry! If it had but been true — and I could see Lakla and you beside me now!
CHAPTER XXXI
LARRY AND THE FROG–MEN
Long had been her tale in the telling, and too long, perhaps, have I been in the repeating — but not every day are the mists rolled away to reveal undreamed secrets of earth-youth. And I have set it down here, adding nothing, taking nothing from it; translating liberally, it is true, but constantly striving, while putting it into idea-forms and phraseology to be readily understood by my readers, to keep accurately to the spirit. And this, I must repeat, I have done throughout my narrative, wherever it has been necessary to record conversation with the Murians.
Rising, I found I was painfully stiff — as muscle-bound as though I had actually trudged many miles. Larry, imitating me, gave an involuntary groan.
“Faith, mavourneen,” he said to Lakla, relapsing unconsciously into English, “your roads would never wear out shoe-leather, but they’ve got their kick, just the same!”
She understood our plight, if not his words; gave a soft little cry of mingled pity and self-reproach; forced us back upon the cushions.
“Oh, but I’m sorry!” mourned Lakla, leaning over us. “I had forgotten — for those new to it the way is a weary one, indeed —”
She ran to the doorway, whistled a clear high note down the passage. Through the hangings came two of the frog-men. She spoke to them rapidly. They crouched toward us, what certainly was meant for an amiable grin wrinkling the grotesque muzzles, baring the glistening rows of needle-teeth. And while I watched them with the fascination that they never lost for me, the monsters calmly swung one arm around our knees, lifted us up like babies — and as calmly started to walk away with us!
“Put me down! Put me down, I say!” The O’Keefe’s voice was both outraged and angry; squinting around I saw him struggling violently to get to his feet. The Akka only held him tighter, booming comfortingly, peering down into his flushed face inquiringly.
“But, Larry — darlin’!”— Lakla’s tones were — well, maternally surprised —“you’re stiff and sore, and Kra can carry you quite easily.”
“I WON’T be carried!” sputtered the O’Keefe. “Damn it, Goodwin, there are such things as the unities even here, an’ for a lieutenant of the Royal Air Force to be picked up an’ carted around like a — like a bundle of rags — it’s not discipline! Put me down, ye omadhaun, or I’ll poke ye in the snout!” he shouted to his bearer — who only boomed gently, and stared at the handmaiden, plainly for further instructions.
“But, Larry — dear!”— Lakla was plainly distressed —“it will HURT you to walk; and I don’t WANT you to hurt, Larry — darlin’!”
“Holy shade of St. Patrick!” moaned Larry; again he made a mighty effort to tear himself from the frog-man’s grip; gave up with a groan. “Listen, alanna!” he said plaintively. “When we get to Ireland, you and I, we won’t have anybody to pick us up and carry us about every time we get a bit tired. And it’s getting me in bad habits you are!”
“Oh, YES, we will, Larry!” cried the handmaiden, “because many, oh, many, of my Akka will go with us!”
“Will you tell this — BOOB! — to put me down!” gritted the now thoroughly aroused O’Keefe. I couldn’t help laughing; he glared at me.
“Bo-oo-ob?” exclaimed Lakla.
“Yes, boo-oo-ob!” said O’Keefe, “an’ I have no desire to explain the word in my present position, light of my soul!”
The handmaiden sighed, plainly dejected. But she spoke again to the Akka, who gently lowered the O’Keefe to the floor.
“I don’t understand,” she said hopelessly, “if you want to walk, why, of course, you shall, Larry.” She turned to me.
“Do you?” she asked.
“I do not,” I said firmly.
“Well, then,” murmured Lakla, “go you, Larry and Goodwin, with Kra and Gulk, and let them minister to you. After, sleep a little — for not soon will Rador and Olaf return. And let me feel your lips before you go, Larry — darlin’!” She covered his eyes caressingly with her soft little palms; pushed him away.
“Now go,” said Lakla, “and rest!”
Unashamed I lay back against the horny chest of Gulk; and with a smile noticed that Larry, even if he had rebelled at being carried, did not disdain the support of Kra’s shining, black-scaled arm which, slipping around his waist, half-lifted him along.
They parted a hanging and dropped us softly down beside a little pool, sparkling with the clear water that had heretofore been brought us in the wide basins. Then they began to undress us. And at this point the O’Keefe gave up.
“Whatever they’re going to do we can’t stop ’em, Doc!” he moaned. “Anyway, I feel as though I’ve been pulled through a knot-hole, and I don’t care — I don’t care — as the song says.”
When we were stripped we were lowered gently into the water. But not long did the Akka let us splash about the shallow basin. They lifted us out, and from jars began deftly to anoint and rub us with aromatic unguents.
I think that in all the medley of grotesque, of tragic, of baffling, strange and perilous experiences in that underground world none was more bizarre than this — valeting. I began to laugh, Larry joined me, and then Kra and Gulk joined in our merriment with deep batrachian cachinnations and gruntings. Then, having finished apparelling us and still chuckling, the two touched our arms and led us out, into a room whose circular sides were ringed with soft divans. Still smiling, I sank at once