CHAPTER VI

THE LAIR OF THE SERPENT

“Korah! Korah!” the words grew fainter and fainter, until at length, worn out with religious fervour, Jez-Riah flung herself on the ground and fell asleep. Alan and Desmond gazed after her for some time and then Alan said “Let’s lie down, Dez. We are both worn out, and it is useless to follow her. She will return to us only when the spirit moves her.”

“Then for Heaven’s sake let us get away from this infernal din.”

They walked down one of the widest passages until they came to a place where the moss was thick and soft and the noise of the water rose faint upon their ears.

“Ar-lane—Jez-mun.” The cry came low and clear and Alan rose quickly to his feet. He had been asleep and his limbs felt rested and his head was clearer.

“It is I, Jez-Riah,” came the soft tones again, and silhouetted against the wall he saw the shadowy figure of the strange woman.

“We must go on,” she urged “We have far to go and much to do.”

“Where have you been?” he asked her.

“I have been in communication with the Spirit of the Waters, O Ar-lane; soon the mysteries of Korah will be unfolded before thine eyes. Come! Come! Tarry not too long.” In a second Desmond was awake, and Jez-Riah showed all impatience to start.

“Have you been here before?” asked Desmond curiously of Jez-Riah.

“No, O Jez-mun, but the water of Korah has given me the gift of sight. Before I was blind—now I can see. Come bind up my eyes, O Ar-lane, that clearness of vision may be mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bind up my eyes,” she commanded again.

Alan tore a strip from his purple mantle, and tied it across her eyes.

She gave an exclamation of joy. “O Ar-lane,” she cried. “Before I trod in darkness; now my path is lighted brightly, and I can lead you to many strange sights, and strange things.” As she spoke, she stretched out her hands before her and started off at a quick pace. In silence the cousins followed her. In their position as prisoners in the earth, buried so far down that they had little hope of ever seeing the sun again, they had no choice but to follow the strange, half mad creature who had constituted herself their leader.

The aspect of the road they were now traversing changed. The sides of the passage were no longer smooth and earthy, but consisted of a hard, rocky substance—the floor, too, was jagged and rough. The passage narrowed until it left only room for them to walk in single file, and the air was musty and stifling; indeed there was a pressure in the atmosphere that made the boys from the upper, world stumble as they felt the noxious gases going to their heads.

They made brave efforts, however, and staggered blindly on, one after the other, following Jez-Riah who never hesitated a moment in the course she was taking. For perhaps five miles they walked until they entered a large cavern, the replica of the many others they had been through. They noticed the change in the air immediately. It was purer, fresher, even cooler and the boys revived under its effect.

Jez-Riah tore the bandage from her eyes. “The place of my dreams,” she cried.

“I feel faint,” said Desmond in a low tone, but not so low that Jez-Riah could not hear. “He needs food?” she questioned “Here is plenty,” and going to the furthermost corner of the cave she pulled up roots by the handful—roots like the ones they had had in the lower world itself.

All the time they had been walking they had been continually ascending—at times the passages were almost like mountain passes, they rose at such a gradient—at other times the ascent was not so noticeable, but all the same they realized that they were mounting upward, and the thought cheered the two white men.

They sat and ate the roots and felt refreshed, when suddenly Desmond rose with a cry. “My God—what’s that?” There on the opposite wall, high above their heads, a light shone down upon them, a light that gleamed baleful in the semi-darkness.

“It is the sacred serpent of the Tomb,” cried Jez-Riah. “I have heard of it often when I was a child. It has existed throughout the ages—it will always exist.”

“Nonsense,” said Alan.

“You cannot kill it,” she wailed “It is the Guardian of the Tomb.”

“What, are we there, at the Tomb of Korah, already?” asked Alan in amazement.

“No! No! But we must cross its path if we would reach the Tomb. In my conceit I thought I was all powerful. I was over-confident, O Ar-lane! I heeded not the snake that is large enough to slay an enormous army and yet retain its power.”

The gleaming eyes grew nearer, and already they could see the writhing body as it moved along a rocky ledge.

“How big is it?” asked Desmond.

“I cannot see its length,” whispered Alan “but it seems as thick round as a man’s body. Let us get out of this cursed place. Which is the way, Jez-Riah?”

“Through that narrow opening yonder,” said she.

Flattening themselves against the wall they crept the way she directed, and were but a few steps from it when there came the sound of a terrible hissing, and a long evil-looking shape dropped in front of them, and hung pendulum-wise blocking up the opening.

“We can’t go that way now,” said Alan “I am afraid it’s too large to tackle. Why it must be thirty feet long at least. We shall have to go back.” Then came the most horrible experience the cousins had ever had. The most awful. The most terrifying.

“Run,” cried Alan. “If we can get into the passage beyond we may be able to block up the way and prevent it coming through after us.”

They reached the narrow opening, and all around were huge blocks of rock and stone which they piled up one on top of the other.

“Only one more is needed,” cried Alan triumphantly. But he spoke too soon—a large, flat head, perhaps a foot and a half in length, with ugly eyes glowing like live fire, shot through the opening, and watched them. The mouth was open wide and the forked tongue shot rapidly in and out in venomous fury. The smell was terrible, whether from its breath or permeating through its skin from its body, they could not tell, but it made them feel giddy, sick and ill. For perhaps ten minutes (if time could be measured in that awful place) it remained there motionless, and then gradually the stones came tumbling down as it forced its way through the barricade.

The boys watched their horrible foe. They were powerless. Escape was impossible, for behind them was a narrow passage, perhaps a mile in length, that offered no shelter.

Would it never attack them? Why keep them in this awful suspense?

“Knife,” came suddenly from between Alan’s tightly compressed lips. Then after a moment, during which time he opened the well worn blade—“There are plenty of stones behind?”

“Plenty.”

Swiftly followed the instructions. “Pick up the largest you can handle—both of you—when I give the word dash them at the brute’s head. It is our only chance—then rush past the head.”

“But—” commenced Desmond.

“Don’t argue—it’s our only hope. The thing is too big to turn round in this small space. It _must_ go on. Once we get past it we may stand a chance.”

Alan never relaxed his watchful gaze. Suddenly the reptile lowered its head and an ugly hiss came from its mouth.

“Now,” cried Alan, and as he hurled the knife, harpoon-like into the open mouth two heavy stones came crashing down on its skull.

The sudden onslaught dazed the creature, and its head dropped to the ground. Quickly they rushed past it, but they all realized that they were not yet out of danger. The passage they were in was very narrow and the serpent was so immense that it was impossible for them to stand without feeling the clammy skin next to them.

Jez-Riah shuddered. “What will become of us?” she moaned “It is too big to kill.” And indeed, it seemed to be, for Alan had not exaggerated. The length was quite thirty feet, and the girth of its middle was perhaps ten feet, narrowing to two at the tail.

“You can’t kill it,” cried Desmond. “Why we haven’t even the old clasp knife now.” A sudden convulsive movement passed along the serpent’s body, and it made them retch to see the tremor coming from its head in undulating movements to its tail. Then it raised itself up, and Alan was right—it was impossible for it to turn—it was far too big and cumbersome. For some time, with its head raised perhaps six feet from the ground, it writhed to and fro in growing anger that its prey should so elude it. As its anger grew greater, its body rolled and moved in convulsive heaps, and the trio sickened as the malodorous mass pressed itself against them and pinioned them to the wall.

“Lannie, what can we do?” asked Desmond. Jez-Riah was almost unconscious with the awful pressure, and the strain was telling on the two boys. The strength of the beast was enormous, and they realized that it had the power, even when at a disadvantage itself, to press the very life out of them against the wall.

Then came a sudden sense of relief, as the serpent contracted itself, but gave way to horror as they realized that it was backing through the opening, and its filthy head would soon be on a line with them.

“Stones,” urged Alan hoarsely. “Hurl them at the head. Jez-Riah, you must help too.”

Feverishly they worked throwing rocks and stones with force at the monster’s head. It withstood the onslaught valiantly for a time—its strength was enormous—but at last a well directed shot of Desmond’s caught it full between the eyes, and the head dropped like a stone.

“The serpent—it is dead?” asked Jez-Riah. “But alas, no. The body is twitching all over—it has life still.”

A sharp piece of stone jutted out above Alan’s head. “Help me,” he said feverishly to his cousin. “This is our last hope—this is as sharp as a knife. If we can but loosen it you must help me to imbed it in the brute’s head. It is stunned now—we must try and overpower it while it is in that condition.” All the time they were talking they were working hard to loosen the stone and at last it fell into Alan’s hands. It was not very large, but it had an edge like a bayonet, and was of intense hardness.

Cautiously they forced their way on either side of the twisting mass, until they were on a level with its head. “There,” whispered Desmond. “Just between the eyes.”

The stone was raised; the huge beast was motionless—then, with almost superhuman power, Alan brought the stone down and embedded it deeply in the flesh, while as Alan let go, Desmond hurled a heavy piece of stone hammer-wise on the top of the stone, and buried the sharp edge still deeper in the gaping wound. The great snake woke to consciousness, and the boys had only just time to get out of the way of its gaping jaws. “Press yourself close to the wall, Dez,” commanded Alan, and they reached Jez-Riah’s side in safety. Their eyes dilated with horror as they watched the great reptile die, for the boys between them had given it its death blow.

How long the death struggle lasted they never knew. Alan thought an hour, Desmond said two. Blood poured from the wound in its head and a sickly smell rose from the liquid. For some time the stone remained fixed in the flesh of the serpent, but its writhings at last loosened it, and it fell to the ground with a horrible thud, while the blood rushed out of the open wound like a miniature fountain.

Fascinated the three watched its last movements. The body rolled from side to side, dashing first against one then against the other of the unlucky prisoners, but by flattening themselves against the walls, they escaped any big injury—only bruises left their mark to show what they had been through.

The movements became more irregular. For a long time the mighty snake remained quite still, only to wake up again after a rest with renewed energy. At last its spasms became less frequent and less powerful. It was dying. Its breath came like huge sobs that travelled down its body. The stench was almost unendurable. “I think it’s safe now,” said Alan at last. Slowly they moved from their cramped positions. Their hearts throbbed and their limbs ached. Fearsomely they gave a last look at the head of the dying, if not already dead, monster. A shudder ran through them all. The strain through which they had passed had been terrible, but for Alan, who had engineered the defeat, it had been terrific. His limbs ached, his head swam, and he reeled as he walked on the free ground, unpolluted by the serpent. He laughed a wild unnatural laugh; it sounded strange even in his own ears, and he repeated it, as he wondered whether he was indeed going mad. He felt suddenly unaccountably frightened. Everything faded from him but the memory of the serpent behind. With another peal of almost senseless laughter, he ran madly away into the distance, until the darkness swallowed him up, and only the sound of his wild laughter broke the stillness. Jez-Riah clutched at her throat and spoke to Desmond. “Ar-lane—he is ill—come,” said she, and the two followed Alan away into the blackness as he sped on, laughing—laughing—laughing.