A Voyage to Arcturus by David Lindsay (the false prince series .TXT) 📕

“Yes,” answered Leehallfae, “we have now come to the region of terrible life.”

“Then, since you’re right in this, I must believe all that you’ve been telling me.”

As he uttered the words, they were just turning a bend of the ravine. There now loomed up straight ahead a perpendicular cliff about three hundred feet in height, composed of white, marbled rock. It was the head of the valley, and beyond it they could not proceed.

“In return for my wisdom,” said the phaen, “you will now lend me your luck.”

They walked up to the base of the cliff, and Maskull looked at it reflectively. It was possible to climb it, but the ascent would be difficult. The now tiny brook issued from a hole in the rock only a few feet up. Apart from its musical running, not a sound was to be heard. The floor of the gorge was in shadow, but about halfway up the precipice the sun was shining.

“What do you want me to do?” demanded Maskull. “Everything is now in your hands, and I have no suggestions to make. Now it’s your luck that must help us.”

Maskull continued gazing up a little while longer. “We had better wait till the afternoon, Leehallfae. I’ll probably have to climb to the top, but it’s too hot at present⁠—and besides, I’m tired. I’ll snatch a few hours’ sleep. After that, we’ll see.”

Leehallfae seemed annoyed, but raised no opposition.

Maskull did not awaken till long after Blodsombre. Leehallfae was standing by his side, looking down at him. It was doubtful whether ae had slept at all.

“What time is it?” Maskull asked, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

“The day is passing,” was the vague reply.

Maskull got on to his feet, and gazed up at the cliff. “Now I’m going to climb that. No need for both of us to risk our necks, so you wait here, and if I find anything on top I’ll call you.”

The phaen glanced at him strangely. “There’s nothing up there except a bare hillside. I’ve been there often. Have you anything special in mind?”

“Heights often bring me inspiration. Sit down, and wait.”

Refreshed by his sleep, Maskull immediately attacked the face of the cliff, and took the first twenty feet at a single rush. Then it grew precipitous, and the ascent demanded greater circumspection and intelligence. There were few hand- or footholds: he had to reflect before every step. On the other hand, it was sound rock, and he was no novice at the sport. Branchspell glared full on the wall, so that it half blinded him with its glittering whiteness.

After many doubts and pauses he drew near the top. He was hot, sweating copiously, and rather dizzy. To reach a ledge he caught hold of two projecting rocks, one with each hand, at the same time scrambling upward, his legs between the rocks. The left-hand rock, which was the larger of the two, became dislodged by his weight, and, flying like a huge, dark shadow past his head, crashed down with a terrifying sound to the foot of the precipice, followed by an avalanche of smaller stones. Maskull steadied himself as well as he could, but it was some moments before he dared to look down behind him.

At first he could not distinguish Leehallfae. Then he caught sight of legs and hindquarters a few feet up the cliff from the bottom. He perceived that the phaen had aer head in a cavity and was scrutinising something, and waited for aer to reappear.

Ae emerged, looked up to Maskull, and called out in aer hornlike voice, “The entrance is here!”

“I’m coming down!” roared Maskull. “Wait for me!”

He descended swiftly⁠—without taking too much care, for he thought he recognised his “luck” in this discovery⁠—and within twenty minutes was standing beside the phaen.

“What happened?”

“The rock you dislodged struck this other rock just above the spring. It tore it out of its bed. See⁠—now there’s room for us to get in!”

“Don’t get excited!” said Maskull. “It’s a remarkable accident, but we have plenty of time. Let me look.”

He peered into the hole, which was large enough to admit a big man without stooping. Contrasted with the daylight outside it was dark, yet a peculiar glow pervaded the place, and he could see well enough. A rock tunnel went straight forward into the bowels of the hill, out of sight. The valley brook did not flow along the floor of this tunnel, as he had expected, but came up as a spring just inside the entrance.

“Well Leehallfae, not much need to deliberate, eh? Still, observe that your stream parts company with us here.”

As he turned around for an answer he noticed that his companion was trembling from head to foot.

“Why, what’s the matter?”

Leehallfae pressed a hand to aer heart. “The stream leaves us, but what makes the stream what it is continues with us. Faceny is there.”

“But surely you don’t expect to see him in person? Why are you shaking?”

“Perhaps it will be too much for me after all.”

“Why? How is it affecting you?”

The phaen took him by the shoulder and held him at arm’s length, endeavouring to study him with aer unsteady eyes. “Faceny’s thoughts are obscure. I am his lover, you are a lover of women, yet he grants to you what he denies to me.”

“What does he grant to me?”

“To see him, and go on living. I shall die. But it’s immaterial. Tomorrow both of us will be dead.”

Maskull impatiently shook himself free. “Your sensations may be reliable in your own case, but how do you know I shall die?”

“Life is flaming up inside you,” replied Leehallfae, shaking aer head. “But after it has reached its climax⁠—perhaps tonight⁠—it will sink rapidly and you’ll die tomorrow. As for me, if I enter Threal I shan’t come out again. A smell of death is being wafted to me out of this hole.”

“You talk like a frightened man.