Chapter XXIV: The Rescue

Drawing up his great muscular form to its full height Maa-Wang stopped: behind him the whole clan followed his example. The Man-who-goes-in-Front carefully looked over the façade of the temple. It was dark. Wanda's window, only, still lighted-up, pierced the gloom with a thin rectangle of red.

The night was beginning to thin. The roaring of wild beasts sounded from the valley. The depths of the gorge were still a sea of darkness, but the foundation wall of the temple, in front of which stood the tribe, gradually became distinct, and the nearest door showed darker in the midst of the dark mass.

Maa-Wang turned towards his clan, raised his club aloft and started off again, a low growl rumbling from his lips. At his back moved the hunters, all on fire for the battle towards which their chief was guiding them. They spoke no word: their great hands clutched the handles of their axes: the flatness of their faces was accentuated: their clenched jaws and their chins vibrating with impatience stood out starkly: in their eyes, narrow and flickering, shone strange lights.

They passed through Wanda's cell. The door giving on the gallery was shattered with a blow from the club and they streamed into the corridor behind the columns, pushing the wreckage out of their way. The narrow subway then forced them to form into a procession of two abreast. Maa-Wang went at the head, silent, his fingers on the wall of the passage, feeling his way. His fellows followed through the blank darkness. Several minutes they marched thus, here and there stopping to listen; but they found nothing but silence, a living silence heavy with invisible vibrations. Again they started onwards.... An axe now and again knocked against the wall, and the meeting of the two stones made a short, clear, clink, greeted by a surly growl. The passage curved and turned on itself. Then, at the top of the second staircase, guarded by a narrow rail, the opening suddenly appeared before them, showing a pointed archway against the lighted depths of the great hall.

Maa-Wang, bending forward with his great body, shouted the call of the clan:

"_O ... ô ... iê ... iêp._..."

And he rushed forward, club aloft, while behind him the troop streamed into the sanctuary.

In front of them, with its back to them, rose an enormous statue which they passed round. Close on their left, the altar revealed its three steps and the transparent hangings behind which flamed the divinity. Above the twelve arms which stood out from the body the metal face reproduced with extraordinary exactness the face of Maa-Wang: the great swelling forehead, deep eye-sockets, prominent jaw bones and chin sticking out strongly, hair of a burning red. It was the Man of the early days, the ancestor of the human race deified. A deep red fur covered the upper part of the body: in truth it was the Red God,--the graven image of the "Living Gods"!

At its feet Lursac and the missionary were stretched, gagged, their legs and arms bound and their clothes torn to ribbons.

Discovering them, the hunters broke out into confused clamor, and while Maa-Wang ran to the two men, the others stood around them watching them with stupefied glances. Beyond them the hall unrolled its immensity, surrounded with enormous square pillars based on fantastic animals who stretched up towards the dim vaulted room their preposterous muzzles. In front of each one of these monsters taken from the old Brahmin legends flamed a brazier, flinging patches of blood-colored light on the gray scaly stomachs of these granite beasts; and on the white tiling of the floor the reflections of the quivering light mingled with the flickering shadows in a grotesque dance.

Pierre, whom the Man had now freed from his bonds, stood up, staggering and swaying. He could not understand.... He was still stupefied from the hours of suspense which he had passed at the foot of the statue. It seemed to be the continuation of the evil dream which throughout the night had harried him without ceasing: the nightmare of the prehistoric tribe and then of the priestesses.

But now from all the shadowy recesses and from all the corners unreached by the lights of the braziers there seemed to arise sorceresses and Moï warriors. There must have been a hundred of them, and their cries and calls echoed and re-echoed through the sanctuary.

At their appearance the clan irresolute, turned back and fluctuated aimlessly. In doubt, Maa-Wang looked at the two Europeans one after the other.

"Her brothers?" he murmured. "That is what she said...."

The missionary heard him; he nodded, beginning to understand, and thinking of Wanda.

"Her devotion has been useless," he thought. "We shall never get by them."

At the same moment pointing out to the Man the army of priestesses and guards, he said, simply:

"There are too many of them."

The Man said nothing. He gave a hoarse sigh and once again his cry rang out:

"_O ... ô ... iê ... êp...._"

Shaken out of their surprise, the hunters at once recovered their natural instincts of violence. The joy of coming battle swelled their breasts and broke out in guttural exclamations. Maa-Wang, with Lursac and the missionary on his left hand, took his place at their head. His lips drawn back in a grin of fury, his eyes flaming, he dashed upon the hostile forces. Behind him the clan flung itself forward like a whirlwind, and suddenly the temple filled with screams and yells. Raising their axes like great wood-choppers the men of Gondwana brought them down in every direction around them. Skulls split with the crash of their blows: crushed breasts gave way with a softer sound. The flint weapons, splashed with blood up to the handles, became bright red. Over the tumult rang groans and the death-rattle of those who fell. Two braziers were over-turned, flinging their flaming coals right and left, and the smell of burning and a cloud of smoke mingled with the hot and bitter tang of blood. The war-cry of the clan, the long and sonorous _o ... ô ... iê ... êp_ ..., dominated the strident screams of the sorceresses. A staggering body, falling, brought down with it other bodies and the tiled floor became clouded with blood.

Driven back on itself and ripped to pieces, the troop of sorceresses slowly gave way. A bo-jaou, her smashed face spurting blood, jumped at Lursac, trying to grasp him with clutching hands. Maa-Wang with a single blow of his fist knocked her headlong backwards, and plunged forward, his arms plastered with red patches, his face splashed with blood, a short low growl coming ceaselessly from his throat, the true frenzy of fight possessing him utterly. About a dozen hunters who were all wounded were cornered in an angle of the building and fighting a losing fight against an encompassing mass of Moï warriors; but he gave no thought to them. His aim was the door of the sanctuary. In front of him and around him the cluster of battling human beings swarmed and circled, gave way, fell and rolled in agony; wounded men, trampled upon, screamed. A Moï warrior, with an axe sunk deep in his naked back ran before him, stumbled, and collapsed.

The missionary, his rosary in his hand, walked steadily forward, and the Man, for a second, threw an astonished glance at this strange being who walked at his side in the middle of this butchery, calmly, with a sad face, unarmed and silent. When they had reached the door, he looked at him a second time, still without understanding, and saw him at that very moment fling up his arms, stumble and fall, his side laid open by a sword blow. As Lursac with a cry ran to the priest, he stopped him, leant over quickly, lifted up the body in his left arm and ran through the doorway. Behind him, Pierre and some twenty hunters rushed down the passageway, shouting. Between the walls, lighted up by the tripods, a confused mass of Moï warriors and sorceresses was running away. The hunters in their turn ran. The noise of the battle grew less and died away behind them and once more they found themselves in a silence only broken by the panting of their own breath....

Outside, in the great court they came to a stop.

In a corner under a tree the six elephants of the expedition, recently captured by the Moïs, were standing tied to the columns; the mahouts with their arms and legs bound shivered with fright as they saw these strange beings approaching them.

Against the lightening sky, still sown with stars, stood out the piled-up roofs of the buildings. The moon, pale and narrow, was pierced by the spike of one of the turrets. The air was soft and warm. A gentle breeze which could hardly be felt brought with it the vast murmur of the surrounding forest.

Grouped about their chief the hunters stood waiting.

Maa-Wang had laid the body of the missionary on the ground; he looked around, and seeing the elephants he walked towards them. Dazed, and with a great gash on his forehead, Pierre had sat himself down on the root of a banyan tree. From time to time he mechanically wiped away the blood which flowed down into his eyes and along his nose. Exhaustion had left his muscles relaxed and his nerves in a pitiable state; and he remained there motionless, shaken by the throbs of his exhausted heart. Dizziness, against which he vainly tried to fight, was overcoming him. Every minute he was coming nearer to complete collapse. He wanted to get up and walk about, but his drained energy could not bring itself to the point, and he stayed there, corpse-like and inert.

Near by, under the tree, Maa-Wang unbound a mahout and helped him to hoist himself on to the neck of one of the animals. Together they came up to the remnants of the clan and the chief ejaculated a few words, short and forcible.

Two men picked up Pierre and carried him to the kneeling elephant. Maa-Wang himself had taken charge of the missionary; he had picked him up in his arms and carried the long thin body against his breast as one carries a child. Pierre realized vaguely that he was being bound on to the back of the beast. Then he felt a sudden pitching movement, and realized that the animal was getting up. But although he tried desperately, he was not strong enough to open his eyes; and he gave up, and, his will in abeyance, lay supine.

Maa-Wang then raised his hand. The elephant, followed by the hunters, moved forward and passing through the long vaulted entrance came to a stop again in front of the temple. The tribe, grouped about their chief, seemed to be waiting. He stretched out his arm and with a circular gesture pointed to the great territory which lay unrolled before him,--the vast scene, which appeared to have no limits and which the strengthening light of the day made clearer, showing a confusion of the great jumbled mass of mountain crests, plateaus and hills.

"I promised to lead you to the great hunting ground, to the country without walls, and it is before you.... Go!... As for me ... I stay here.... Someone else whom you will pick for yourselves will become the Man-who-goes-in-Front."

He was silent.

Around him the hunters stood wordless; they gazed at the new world which was being opened to them and their faces reflected the contradictory feelings which swept through their minds: amazed wonder, the intoxication of endless spaces across which they were about to travel, and the fear of the Unknown. One of them suddenly made up his mind and set off; and the others in small groups ran after him in their turn.

Maa-Wang watched them go; and when they had faded into almost invisible shadows he turned to the mahout:

"You are free.... Go. Take these two back where they came from."

Without awaiting an answer from the Lao-ese he lifted the heavy club and brought it down on the back of the elephant who promptly started forward. For an instant longer he stared, following with his eyes the elephant who had already begun to swing up the slope of the Pou-Kas carrying, hanging at its sides, the two human bodies.

Then, turning round, he ran back to the temple.

* * * * *

He made his way back to the hall of the God, where the battle had taken place a few minutes earlier. The signs of it were still visible. Bodies of dead warriors were strewn pell-mell about the sanctuary; the white tiling was here and there stained with large dark patches which grew black as they coagulated; the dying coals of the over-turned braziers sent up a bitter-smelling smoke, the smell of which mingled with the unmistakable smell of stale blood. In a corner the hunters who had been overwhelmed by a superior number of Moï warriors lay in a group of corpses, and the red furs which they had worn were huddled together with the broken bodies of the Moï guards, with whom, tangled together even in death, they had fought to the bitter end. Axes, lances and swords lay about on the ground. Groans and the moaning of a woman lying on her back with a lance through her chest rose in the cloudy air. At the foot of a winged dragon a Moï warrior with his side laid open by a great wound was still twisting about in his last agony.

All this he saw as he went, just as he saw vaguely behind the three silver embroidered veils the enormous dark red statue in its eternal attitude of blessing and peace. But he had left it all behind him, for he had found again the subterranean passage, the gallery and the cell. And at last he emerged from the temple at the foot of the giant foundation-wall.

The blaze of the sunshine, after the shadows and darkness of the rooms and corridors which he had just crossed, dazzled him. He blinked his eyes, and stopped to make sure of his direction. Then he ran towards the grotto in which he had enclosed his prey, the living trophy of his victory. On his breast, on his left thigh, and on his shoulder, savage wounds ran blood, but he felt them not. He thought only of the golden-haired woman. His desire for her, and the pride of having conquered as she had told him to, swept from his mind all other feeling and all consideration of everything else. He came near the cave in which she was waiting for him. A last bound brought him to the entrance--and he saw it yawning open, all the rocks which he had piled up against it flung to one side.

After a short pause of stupefaction, he jumped into the cave. It was empty. He remained a second without understanding, looking at the ground stamped with footmarks, the mouth of the cavern, and the huge stones flung about the entrance. Then, bending down, he picked up a strip of white silk tunic, and this rag, which he recognized as the same material which Jieng wore as her sacred uniform and which he found now in the very place where he had shut up his vanished prey, filled him with insane rage....

A cry like that of a wild beast sprang from his throat. All his animal fury came back in full force: he rushed towards the temple. A single thought, a single instinct drove him: to find his woman, to take her and carry her away.... Once more he came out into the sanctuary. His face contorted in frenzy, he looked about him, seeking and running from one shadowed corner to another, looking behind the pillars, upsetting the braziers, savagely mutilating with his axe the granite idols that he found in his way. His lust for murder became a paroxysm! He growled without ceasing; and before his haggard eyes the light of the brazier fires seemed to grow larger and to mix one with the other. The hall of the temple looked red to him ... red ... for he was now nothing but a brute beast in delirium.... He ran straight ahead, turning neither to the right nor to the left; and suddenly he found himself opposite the three silver veils facing the statue of the God. He flung himself madly upon them. The curtains, torn apart, fell upon him. He fought with them, rending them to shreds and stamping on them. Then he attacked the image of the God. The arms, the face, and the metal body of the Divinity splintered by his club were defaced, broken and wrecked. It rocked on its base; a final blow flung it crashing to the ground. Hanging over it he tore from the image the barbaric collar that it wore about its neck, then he set himself again to pounding it into fragments....

Through the silence the sound of his blows rang and rang until the idol was nothing but a broken heap of formless wreckage. Leaving it then, he resumed his furious course and burst howling into a corridor. He crossed other halls and other passages, swinging his club about him at random. From his open wounds the blood trickled and ran in streams spattering the tiles and the walls. Fragments of stone and the splinters from the flint of his club had struck him in the face; the cuts they had made had bloodied his forehead and his cheeks. He was red from his hair to his heels. Everything that was human in him was in abeyance. He was now only a male animal, a brute, mad with the frenzy of battle and disappointed desire.

He continued his aimless rush through the temple, crossing room after room; but now on his way phantoms slid from his path and hid themselves behind pillars, reappearing behind him, following his course and accompanying him, invisible, but every moment more numerous. At last he arrived in a narrow room without any other exit than a lofty door, above which, on a cornice formed by a heavy marble slab the granite image of a giant dragon stood on guard. He ran straight for the door but just as he was crossing the threshold with a sudden crash the dragon fell, pinning him to the ground....

He fell without a cry.

And while the priestesses swarmed out from all the dark corners and ran towards him, two sorceresses, crouched on the edge of the cornice from which they had pushed the fallen dragon, leant over and watched the trickles of blood which began to flow and spread from under the massive stone monster....