Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction; Science fiction; Tibet Autonomous Region (China) -- Fiction
I HAD forgotten. I looked again at the wall. Certainly it was smooth,
lineless. In one unbroken, shining surface it rose, a facade of polished
metal. Within it the deep set points of light were duller even than they
had been in the pillars; almost indeed indistinguishable.
“Go on to the left,” I said none too patiently. “And get that absurd
notion out of your head.”
“All right.” He flushed. “But you don't think I'm afraid, do you?”
“If what you're thinking were true, you'd have a right to be,” I replied
tartly. “And I want to tell you I'D be afraid. Damned afraid.”
For perhaps two hundred paces we skirted the base of the wall. We came
abruptly to an opening, an oblong passageway fully fifty foot wide by
twice as high. At its entrance the mellow, saffron light was cut off as
though by an invisible screen. The tunnel itself was filled with a dim
grayish blue luster. For an instant we contemplated it.
“I wouldn't care to be caught in there by any rush,” I hesitated.
“There's not much good in thinking of that now,” said Drake, grimly.
“A few chances more or less in a joint of this kind is nothing between
friends, Goodwin; take it from me. Come on.”
We entered. Walls, floor and roof were composed of the same substance as
the great pillars, the wall of the outer chamber; filled like them with
dimmed replicas of the twinkling eye points.
“Odd that all the places in here are square,” muttered Drake. “They
don't seem to have used any spherical or pyramidal ideas in their
building--if it is a building.”
It was true. All was mathematically straight up and down and across. It
was strange--still we had seen little as yet.
There was a warmth about this passageway we trod; a difference in the
air of it. The warmth grew, a dry and baking heat; but stimulative
rather than oppressive. I touched the walls; the warmth did not come
from them. And there was no wind. Yet as we went on the heat increased.
The passageway turned at a right angle, continuing in a corridor
half its former dimensions. Far away shone a high bar of pale yellow
radiance, rising like a pillar of light from floor to roof. Toward it,
perforce, we trudged. Its brilliancy grew greater.
A few paces away from it we stopped. The yellow luminescence streamed
through a slit not more than a foot wide in the wall. We were in a
cul-de-sac for the opening was not wide enough for either Drake or me
to push through. Through it with the light gushed the curious heat
enveloping us.
Drake walked to the opening, peered through. I joined him.
At first all that I could see was a space filled with the saffron
lambency. Then I saw that this was splashed with tiny flashes of the
jewel fires; little lances and javelin thrusts of burning emeralds and
rubies; darting gem hard flames rose scarlet and pale sapphire; quick
flares of violet.
Into my sight through the irised, crocus mist swam the radiant body of
Norhala!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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