A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, December 1949 — page 87: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CREEP, SHADOW! 87 SSS sss SSS side of me and Dahut on the other. Down the stairs we went. A score of the servants were in the great hall. All wore the white robes and they held unlighted flambeaux. They sank upon their knees as we ap- proached them. De Keradel pressed upon the wall and a section slid open, revealing wide stone steps winding down and down. Arm in arm, Dehut and de Keradel and I trod them, the servants behind us until we faced what seemed to be a wall of solid stone. Here again de Keradel pressed, and a part of the wall raised slowly and silently like a curtain, It had masked a portal to a vast cham- ber hewn out of the solid rock. Through the portal stole a penetrating pungent odor, and from beyond it came the mur- mur of many voices. The light that filled it was dim but crystal clear—like a forest twilight. There were a hundred or more men and women facing us, and their eyes wide pupilled and blank—rapt—looking into another world. But they saw us. There were cubicles all around the cavern, and others came out of them; women who carried babies in their arms; women at whose skirts children clung. Babies and children were wide-eyed, too. E KERADEL raised the maul and shouted to them. They answered the shout and rushed towards us, throwing themselves upon their faces as we drew near ; crawling to and kissing my feet, the feet of de Keradel, the slim and sandaled feet of Dahut. De Keradel began a chant, low voice, vibrant—archaic. Dahut joined him, and my own throat answered .. . in that tongue I knew and did not know. The men and women lifted themselves to their knees. They joined, full throated, in the chant. They lifted themselves to their feet and stood swaying to its cadence. I studied them. They were gaunt faced and old, the most of them. Their garb was what I had known in ancient Caranac, but their faces were not those of Caranac’s sacrifices. There was a glow in their breasts, over their hearts. But in too many it was dim | and yellowed; flickering toward extinc- tion. Only in the babies and the children was it clear and steady. . I said to de Keradel: “Too many are old. The fire of life is dim within them. The essence of life which feeds the wicks runs too low. We need younger sacri- fices—those in whom the fire of life is strong.” He answered: “Does it matter—so long as there is life to be eaten?” I said, angrily: “It does matter! We must have youth. Nor are these of the old blood.” He looked at me for the first time since I had refused to pick up the maul. There was calculation in the glowing eyes, and satisfaction and approval. He looked at Dahut, and I saw her nod to him, and she murmured: “I am right, my father... he is one with us, but . . . patience.” De Keradel said: ‘We shall have youth—later. All we need of it. But now we must do with what we have.” Dahut touched my hand, and pointed. At the far end of the cavern a ramp led up | to another door. She said: “Time goes— and we must do with what we have— now.” De Keradel took up the chant. We walked, the three of us, between the ranks of swaying, chanting men and women. The servants with the flambeaux fell in _ behind us and behind them trooped the singing sacrifices. We ascended the ramp. A door opened smoothly. We passed through it into the open air. De Keradel stepped ahead ; his. chanting fuller voiced, challenging. The night was cloudy and thin wisps of fog eddied around us. We crossed a broad open stretch and entered a grove of great oaks. The oaks sighed and whispered ; then their branches began to toss and their leaves soughed the chant. De Keradel raised his maul and saluted them. We passed out of the oaks— For an instant ancient time and this time and all times reeled around me. I stopped my chanting. I said, strangled: “Caranac—but it cannot be! Caranac was—then . .. and this is now.” | Dahut’s arm was around my shoulders; Dahut’s lips were upon mine; she whis- pered: “There is no then ... there is no +* now ... for us, beloved.” Yet still I stood and looked; while be- hind me the chanting became ever fainter, faltering and uncertain. For there was a level space before me over which great monoliths marched ; not leaning nor fallen oO <S Eomicboo ; WEE a OU EES ux a ‘ a’ ¥ 7 Pa Ay WA it pb Ls Be o's 1 Yc A eR fe Sole cies Le we Fat Bet ae es eet <Yy pReeyr sadn ngs w » +4 len a's ee A? ey ASS a PoE sic, GE SR RIE SF AA SY iy ex