Part 6

"He shall deliver thee from the snare of the hunter; and from the noisome pestilence.... Thou shalt not be afraid for any terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day.... A thousand shall fall beside thee, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee...."

The agony flamed up again in Garth's brain, consuming, terrible. The huge robot body of the dais swayed, caught itself, and the chant thundered out again through the great cavern.

"If I take the wings of the morning; and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there also shall thy hand lead me...."

The distant, harsh clangor of a bell sounded. Garth had heard it before, when he had crossed the threshold of the black temple in the forest. At the sound the Zarno stirred, and a few of them sprang up.

Garth thrust out his hand, fighting back the pain that tore at him like white flame.

His voice held them--

"The floods are risen, O Lord, the floods have lifted up their voices; the floods lift up their waves.... The waves of the sea are mighty, and rage horribly: but yet the Lord, who dwelleth on high, is mightier--"

He held them. He held them, speaking a tongue they did not know, while his mind shook under the impact of sanity-destroying pain. A slow, sick bitterness crept into his soul. Was this the end--death here, prisoned on an alien world, so far from his home planet?

Death--and for what?

He closed his mind to the thought. Mentally he paced Doc and the others through the tunnel, from the black temple to the hangar. Surely they must have reached it by now! Paula--

That first glimpse he had had of the girl, in Tolomo's drinking-hell--Moira, he had thought then, for an incredible instant. Yes, she had been like Moira. If the paths of destiny had led elsewhere than to the Black Forest of Ganymede, the result might have been far distant. He would not be dying here alone, horribly alone. Moira--Paula--

They were the same, somehow. And Garth knew he had to keep going, till he had saved Paula Trent. A little time--a few moments more, to keep the Zarno in check.

He and Moira had been cheated of their lives, their futures in some way he could not quite understand. But there remained Paula. She must not die. She and the others must get through.

"_Ed._"

Garth's heart answered that soundless call. His lips formed the name _Moira_.

* * * * *

She was there, beside him, and he did not question, did not even wonder. It was enough that she had come back. Her brown ringlets curled about the pale face as he remembered, and the blue eyes held love and--something more.

A message.

"What is it, Moira? What--" He reached out hungry arms.

"Ed. It isn't only us. It's Earth. Don't stop now, Ed. A few more minutes to hold the Zarno back; that will be enough. Be strong. A little time more--such a little time, and then you can rest."

A phantom born of his delirium, Garth knew, but she was no less real for that. He tried to speak and failed. His chest constricted with pain. Outside the altar, the Zarno were stirring uneasily.

"I--I can't--"

"You must."

Anger swept through him. "Why? We've been cheated of everything, Moira! Our heritage--"

She smiled at him, very tenderly. "The grass is still green on the hills of Earth, my lover. Have you forgotten? The little streams that go laughing down the valleys, and the ocean surging up to the white beaches? There are still sunsets on Earth, and men and women will see them for ages to come. Men who might have been our sons; women who might have been our daughters. And they are our children, Ed, as surely as though we had given them birth. For we are giving them life. There will be a future for mankind because of us. We have given up our own lives that our children may live, and go on to glories we can never know ourselves. It is Earth that needs your help now--and that is something greater than either of us."

Something greater....

The Zarno were beginning to move forward, and some of them were sidling toward the passage. Garth, gasping for breath, summoned all his reserve energy. He seemed to feel Moira's cool hand on his shoulder, silently urging him on.

_Something greater_--

"The days of man are but as grass," he croaked, and the amplified sound went thundering through the temple, halting the Zarno where they stood. They turned again to the altar.

"For he flourisheth as a flower of the field ... for as soon as the wind goeth over, it is gone--"

He held them, somehow, knowing that Moira stood beside him. Toward the end, Garth was no longer conscious of his surroundings. The Zarno swam before his eyes, changing, altering, and abruptly they vanished. In their place was--was--

He saw Earth, as he remembered it, the loveliest planet of all. He saw the heart-breaking beauty of flaming sunsets over the emerald seas, and the snowy purity of high peaks lifting above baking deserts. He felt the cold blast of Earthwinds on his cheeks, the stinging, exciting chill of mountain streams against his skin. There was the warm smell of hay, golden in the fields; the sharpness of eucalyptus and pine; the breath of the little bright flowers that grow only on Earth.

He heard the voices of Earth. The chuckling of brooks, and the deep shouting of the gale; the lowing of cattle, the sound of leaves rustling, and the crash of angry breakers. The soul of Earth spoke to the man who would never see it again.

He listened, while he chanted the majestic, rolling syllables that kept the Zarno in check. Beside him was Moira. Beneath him, his own world, green and beautiful.

And across the emerald planet men and women came marching, sunlight making a golden path for them as they moved out of darkness into the unknown brightness of the future. They were like gods, great-limbed, lovely, and with eyes fearless as a falcon's filled with laughter.

Before their marching feet the road of the ages unrolled. Mighty cities reared to the blue skies of Earth, and ships swept out beyond the stars, binding the galaxies and the universe with unbreakable chains of life. Outward and ever outward the circles of humanity and civilization rippled.

Men and women like gods, unafraid, knowing a life greater than ever before--

And they turned questioning eyes on Garth, asking him the question on which their existence depended.

"Will you save us? Will you give us life? Will you give us the future you yourself can never know?"

Garth answered them in his own way, with Moira beside him. For now it did not matter that he was dying; he had found something greater than he had ever known before.

Through the temple his voice rang like brazen trumpets.

"_--the wind bloweth ... and the place thereof shall know it no more...._"

* * * * *

A panel in the wall by his head lit up, making a square of brightness. He strained his eyes at it, discerning a picture. A scanner of some sort. It showed a transparent ovoid slanting up through the black trees of the forest, a ship with Doc Willard at the controls and eleven men and a girl in the vessel with him--a girl with red-gold hair, going back to Earth, with the knowledge that would save a world from destruction.

He had not failed.

The picture on the scanner darkened. The burning ache in Garth's lungs grew worse. If he could breathe--

On the dais, the robot swayed, its metal legs giving beneath its weight. The crash of its fall brought the Zarno to their feet, frozen with amazement for a moment. Then they moved forward like a wave.

Garth saw them, dimly, through the vision-slit. A white curtain of pain blotted them out. He was dying; he knew that. The shouts of the Zarno came to him faintly,

"the wind bloweth ... and the place thereof shall know it no more...."

But in that place the seeds of the future would grow. Once more Garth saw the children of Earth's unborn generations, and this time the question in their eyes was answered. They would live and go on, to the stars, and beyond.

Moira was beside him. Her cool hand touched his; she came into his arms.

And the white curtain flamed agonizingly for the last time.

Then, mercifully, there was no more pain. Under the black throne Garth's body lay motionless in its strange tomb.

The Zarnos' cries filled the temple as they mourned their dead god--but the man who had saved Earth did not hear them.

End of Project Gutenberg's Crypt-City of the Deathless One, by Henry Kuttner