He stepped warily across the threshold, into the gloom of the temple. Simultaneously the flooring sank almost imperceptibly beneath his feet, and a deep, brazen bell-note boomed out, hushed with distance, as though it came from underground.
Indecision held Garth motionless for a moment. That clang was a signal of some sort—a warning against trespassers? A warning to whom?
He was answered quickly. A low cry came, harsh and oddly familiar. It was the first of many. Garth, hesitating on the threshold, uncertain which way the danger lay, instinctively reached out his arm and dragged Paula close. She came obediently to his side, her eyes seeing nothing. The others—they stood like frozen statues.
Something flashed amid the underbrush. The scarlet tangle of vines and leaves was torn aside, and a figure leaped into view.
A figure, manlike—yet not human!
At first glance it seemed to be a man in armor, more than six feet tall, and proportionately broad. Its body gleamed with reflected light. Neckless, its head was a hairless, shining ball whose only features were two oval, jet-black eyes. They were uncannily menacing.
A statue come to life! For the creature’s body was obviously not flesh—it was hard, rough and shiny as translucent glass. Silicate life!
Sprung from a silicon chemical base, as Earth life comes from carbon—but sentient, intelligent, and dangerous!
Others like it raced into view, pausing as they saw Garth and his companions. The first stepped forward. He had no mouth, but a circular diaphragm below and between his eyes vibrated rapidly, forming recognizable words.
“Al-khron ghanro ssel ’ri—”
It was the Ancient Tongue, which Garth had learned five years before, and never forgotten. It came back to him easily now. He was beginning to remember other things, too. These creatures—he had seen them before. The Zarno—
“We come in peace.” He raised one hand, his nerves jolting, waiting for the answer. Presently it came.
“You are not a god. The others with you are not gods. We are the Zarno; we destroy. We guard the house of the gods till they return.”
Another of the silicate creatures pushed forward. “Do you not know this being, Kharn? Eight ystods ago he came here with another like him. Do you remember?”
Kharn nodded slowly. “That is true. We did not slay them then, for we thought they were messengers from the gods. They pretended to be—we were not sure. This one escaped. The other went into the Darkness.”
The other? Doc Willard? Garth felt his throat tighten.
“The—Darkness? What is that?”
“The place from which only the gods return,” Kharn said slowly.
Did he mean—death? Before Garth could ask, the second Zarno spoke.
“They must be taken and sacrificed, Kharn.”
Garth took out his gun. “Wait,” he said sharply, as the Zarno moved forward. “We have weapons. We can destroy you.”
“You do not speak the truth. Only the gods can destroy us. Ages ago they came here and built their temple and taught us to be wise. When they left us, we stayed on, to guard the sacred places.”
Garth’s mouth felt dry. “We are messengers from the gods—” he declared.
“It is not true.” Kharn began to walk forward. “Take them!”
Garth knew he had lost.
It was like a nightmare, the steady, relentless approach of the monstrous beings. Garth held his gun leveled. His arm tightened around Paula’s shoulders.
“Keep back,” he commanded, conscious of the uselessness of the words.
Instead, Kharn and the others walked on. The creature’s shining arm lifted, clamped on Garth’s shoulder. He fired.
Kharn did not seem to feel the bullet, though it had not missed. Garth squeezed the trigger again. The pistol jolted against his palm.
The Zarno were—invulnerable!
Garth fought, nevertheless. He could see the silicate men lifting his companions like sacks of meal, hoisting them to gleaming shoulders, and carrying them, unresisting, through the forest. Paula was torn from his grasp. Cursing, he struck out at Kharn’s impassive, inhuman face with the revolver-butt. Useless! Nothing could harm these creatures of living stone.
Ignoring his struggles, Kharn prisoned Garth’s arms and lifted him. Helpless, Garth was carried after the others. He forced himself to relax. A fury of impotent rage flooded him.
He battled it down. Better wait. A chance might come later; just now, there was none. Wait—
Through the forest they went, a score of the silicate creatures, striding like armored giants in the darkening red glow. Not far. A pillar of black metal loomed before them soon, broken by an archway. Two of the monsters guarded it. For a moment Garth mistook the monolith for one of the ebony trees; then he realized his error as they crossed the threshold and began to descend a spiral ramp.
Now there was light, a cool, silvery radiance that seemed to come from the walls. Kharn’s footsteps thumped hollow, tirelessly. Sudden weakness made Garth dizzy. He caught a glimpse of a well around which the ramp wound, a pit dropping away to the heart of a world, it seemed.
Utter exhaustion struck him like a physical blow.
VII
He remembered, dimly, what happened after that. It was like a series of fantastic visions, nightmare flashes of memory. At the bottom of the spiral was a cave, reminiscent of Chahnn and the other cities of the Ancients Garth had seen. Enigmatic machines loomed here and there. Unlike Chahnn, this city was lighted with the pale glow that came out of the walls and high-domed ceilings.
Cavern after cavern—peopled with the silicate creatures, filled with the dead machines of the Ancients! And, finally, an immense cave, its floor slanting up to a raised dais at one end. On the platform a throne of black metal stood, and seated upon it was a gigantic four-armed robot, larger than any Garth had ever seen before—standing, it would have been twelve feet tall, he judged.
Garth got only a glimpse of this. He was carried on swiftly to a smaller cavern where metal doors lined the walls. One of these was unlocked. He, with the other Earthmen, was carried within and
