THE NOVELIST

Otago Witness, Issue 3961, 11 February 1930, Page 70

THE NOVELIST

THE NECKLACE OF EL-HOYA.

By

DULCE CARMAN.

(Special fob the Otago Witness.)

CHAPTER XX'.—THE FALL OF ICMALIOS. There is a way-from every point in a circle to the centre ; From the farthest error there is a way back to God Himself. —Ruckert. As Marie and Terence stepped forth into the oppressive breathless heat of the late afternoon, another blinding Hash of lightning pierced the leaden clouds, to be followed almost instantaneously by a rending crash of thunder. They had gone, perhaps, a dozen steps when, after a huge warning drop or two, down came the tain in torrents.

“Shall we go back?” Terence sail! tentatively, feeling at the same time an irresistible craving to follow' this novel adventure to its close. “ Heavens, what a relief the rain is! But you will get terribly wet if we go on —I suppose it would be wiser to turn back?” Marie shook her head.

“ I wouldn't dream of going hack now. And T have not the slightest objection to getting wet —it won’t hurt us much if we hurry, anyway. If you had come at first when I wanted you to, we should have been there before the rain started. Xow it just means that we shall have to run for it.”

So run they did, while the rain pelted down upon their unprotected heads. Fortunately it was not very far to the laboratory, and they soon reached the threshold, and paused before the door. The rain was sweeping up from the south, and the door of the laboratory was in the north end of the building; therefore, when they paused beneath the big riinu tree which reared its stately heal beside the threshold, the rain did not touch them, although the vivid lightning dazzled their eyes, and made them ache, and the incessant rumble of thunder sounded overhead.

And yet, even with his fingers upon the key in his pocket —with warm dryness in front of him, and the grey, wet mist of the driving rain at his back, Terence hesitated a moment before inserting the key in the lock. “ Suppose ” he began.

“Do open the door!” Marie urged. “Don’t you see that we shall have centuries to talk in afterwards, but we shall never take part in a scene like this again —at least, you won’t.”

Thus adjured, Terence turned the key in the lock, and the door swung silently open before them. Now, that in itself was a surprising thing to happen, and his brain mentally registered the fact, for the door of the laboratory was much given to sticking, and for that reason was constantly being anathematised by both Lionel and himself Surely someone must have been at work upon the offending portal. He distinctly remembered thinking this, as they stepped inside, and then he saw a scene so amazing, that Lionel and squeaking doors and everything of a like nature were blotted completely out of his thoughts. Marie had said “ Have you forgotten that the green metal temple is there?” And now, he knew it was exactly like one of the fairy stories that he himself told to small Dickie at bedtime—he found himself standing by Marie’s side not in the laboratory at all, but standing in a temple exactly similar to the little green metal model* which had stood so long on the stand of beautiful New Zealand woods that Lionel had commandeered from Mona’s drawing room. Involuntarily he stole a glance at Marie, to see if she was looking as surprised as he felt. But she seemed to regard the strange happening as quite in order, and returned his gaze quite calmly, laying her finger gravely on her lips to enjoin complete silence.* Then he recollected that, before they came down from the house, she had told him that on no account was he to speak unless or until he was directly addressed.

“ Don’t forget—whatever happens—you must take no part in anything that transpires until you are personally addressed!” she had said. Well! He would show' her that he was to be trusted. He would keep silence, and with this resolve he turned to survey his surroundings. The temple wherein he and Marie were standing appeared to be a very large place, for the walls, with their soft green glow, show’ed but dimly through a shrouding mist. At the altar steps stood the old high priest Icmalios, still in the yellow linen robe in which he had made his previous appearances before the favoured eyes of the dwellers in the valley. The space before the altar was literally crowded with people. Strong men were there—magnificent women— chubby children—they were all there, and, wherever the eye turned, it was met by that interminable yellow linen which seemed to be the exclusive material used by the metal worshippers. Terence began to speculate idly as to how much linen it would take to make

one of those long straight robc.-j, and he wondered whether the metal worshipped monopolised the world's supply of yellow linen, and whether they ever grew tired of the eternal sameness of the garments, and longed for colours and materials apparently denied to them. lhe whole place glowed with a soft golden mist, and taken as a picture merely, would have been difficult to surpass.

“My children!” said the old high priest sadly, and his voice broke a deathly hush, for even the roar of the storm outside did not reach this strange meeting place, “My children! Once again—and perchance for the last time, I—your high priest—have called you together in this, our sacred shrine. From the silence we have come, we of an age long over-past, at the bidding of two men of the present age. Back into the shadows we must go, until such time as, with the passing of the ages, there will be other men whose brains will seek amongst the mysteries of the things gone by. Our fate rests now, as ever, at the feet of our sacred one, and tile god of mystery will still, as in past years, see to the well-being of those who have ever been faithful unto him. You bear me witness, my children, that ever it has been my one desire to serve my master faithfully. I had decreed that* the wife and child of the man known as Lionel Vellacott. should be sacrificed to the service of the unexplainable things.”

Here, it must be confessed, Terence jumped, and found it extremely difficult to obey Marie's warning finger. Mona and jolly little Dickie t be sacrificed to that lot of yellow rag-bags. Not if be knew it, and he secretly rejoiced when he remembered that his chum ami he had already decided definitely to give up all researches connected with the green metal.

“ But the power was not left in our hands,” continued Icmalios mournfully, apparently quite unconscious of the young man's presence. “ There was never more than one person whose influence I feared, and the gods of mystery, in their wisdom, decreed that here, in this peaceful bush-girt valley, the enemy of our faith should thwart our plans. Many ages ago El-Hoya's influence was too strong for mine, and through countless a-ons I have waited patiently until my hour of triumph should be loosed by the fingers of the All-Seeing Ones.

“ But inscrutable Fate has decreed that even to this day the influence of El-Hoya shall reign unconquered. There came to this valley a girl who shared his power when the world was young—who shares it still as I speak to you here to-day; and as she came, I knew that from that moment the power of our sacred green metal must diminish. “Me are banished, my children! Again must the shadows claim us—yet is my sorrow lightened by the knowledge that, to encompass our downfall, El-Hoya, my enemy, must sacrifice all that he holds dearest —even all influence over, all communion with the girl for whom his love has outlasted even the ages.

“ And there will yet come a day’ to us, O faithful ones, when the brain of man once more seek for the things which are hidden, and then indeed shall the green metal be exalted, and we, its faithful servants, will be rewarded and exalted before the eyes of the world, as we have deserved.”

He paused, and a low regretful murmur ran round the ranks of waiting worshippers. Marie's beautiful eyes, when Terence turned to look at her, were soft and dewy with unshed tears, and the young man recollected her remark about what she was giving up for the sake of the other dwellers in the vallev, and he wondered what on earth was really happening, and what strange event would happen next. He decided that he must be a selfish beast at best, for he caught himself wondering whether, if he proclaimed that Lionel and he intended giving up everything in connection with the green metal, El-Hoya the mysterious might be left to Marie? But then there was Lionel to be considered, and in this matter at all events, Lionel was hardly to be depended upon, and in his secret heart Terence knew very surely that he did not w r ant El-Hoya of the magic influence to be spared to Marie. 'So he stood his ground in the unbroken silence that Marie had stressed a 5 being absolutely necessarv.

Then, when the impressive silence had lasted for several minutes, Icmalios spoke again.

“ The green metal has al readv gained such ascendancy over the mind's of our two twentieth century researchers that, however much they willed it, they would not by this time have been able to relinquish the sacred work without strong help from one in power.

“ For the last time I call upon my enemy to consider! There is room in

the world for us —and for him—if he will but take hence the girl, and the necklace of golden flame. Then should all be peace, and the green metal should sway unlimited power, and the gods of luvstery should reign above all, as of old!

“ But if, for the sake of our ancient hate, he is ready to sacrifice all for the feud of ages long past, if he will give up all that his heart holds dearest for the gratification of a quarrel long since dead, then. Oh! my brethren-—you will bear me witness that here is the place, and now the time for the act of renunciation !

“ But first 1 would call upon the maiden herself to speak, and say what her will is in this matter. Once ere this she hath spoken in this sacred place! Here should never a woman’s voice be raised, as well she knoweth. And yet, when I hade her speak, scornful in truth were the words with which she answered me. For the last time, child of a iater age, speak freely concerning these things whereof we now debate.” To Terence’s astonishment, Marie willingly moved a couple of paces away from his side, her lovely head held scornfully erect, her brown eyes gleaming, the amber roses shimmering in tile clasp of her slender fingers. “ Here may indeed be the place, and now the time for the great renunciation!” she said, and her tones rang with icy clearness through the strange hush that brooded over the people in that great building. “ Things may in truth be as Icmalios has stated, but his word is as nothing to me. Until El-Hoya himself calls upon me to renounce his influence, and the wonderful chain of jewels which have been mine through

long ages—l obey him only—and the voice of the high priest is as thistledown upon a high wind.”

“It was ever so —even in the days long past —that time when the world was young, and first our fates were interwoven. It is at his bidding alone — El-Jloya’s own —that I come to this meeting of yours. It will be for him, and for him only to dictate that which waits to be done. Yet, I would give him up for ever —for more than the little span of years which this renunciation will cover —1 would sacrifice my chain of beautiful amber roses for ever, if I knew that, by so doing, the metal worshippers might be buried for all time in the shadows of things forgotten.

“ It is like the Icmalios of old to say that this meeting was called by him for this purpose, when even the least among you knows that El-Hoya holds you one and all in the hollow of his hand. It is he whom ye obey, through fear—even as I also obey him because I love him, and he is master of my fate. It was El-Hoya who summoned us ail to-day, and we are here at his will.

“Is Icmalios—the high priest of a generation gone, forgetful of the cunning of which he had such great store when the world was young? How else can he have overlooked the fact that where the Amber Rose is there will be El-Hoya too. and that neither the Amber Rose nor El-Hoya would see Terence Maitland and Lionel Vellacott ruined, with the curse of blood upon their empty lives—the blood of a woman and a little child. Oh, your green metal is a wonderful thing to worship, truly—when it drinks the blood of little innocent children.

Icmalios—you hade me speak, and I have spoken freely—what more you want must be reserved until the master comes. But I would ” —with a little sigh—“ that the ransom were less costly.”

Marie’s voice broke breathlessly, and for a long, tense moment the ghostly silence reigned supreme. Then the venerable Icmalios turned, with a sneer upon his lips, to the patient throng before him. “ Ye have heard the maiden’s words, my children!” he said, with a biting sneer in his tone. ” Truly she speaks with a free tongue. It may be that th? metal worshippers no more desire to in elude her amongst their number than she wishes to embrace their faith—yet was she one of the god of mystery’s most saintly maidens in those long-past days when our feet trod the sands of that far-distant country that was the cradle of our race in the dawn of time.

“ Truly a woman never raised her voice so scornfully in this, our sacred shrine —as she hath done. But we will indeed do as she sayeth ” —the sneering voice betrayed an added tone of venom ’’ —we will wait until the master comes! ”

(To be continued.)