"Moore, C L - The Tree of Life UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore C. L)

wondered with a little in*ard chill what terror it was which had transformed a free and fearless people into these tiny wild things whispering in the underbrush.
The little anxious voices had shrilled into vehemence -now, all of them chattering together in their queer, soft, rustling whispers. Looking back later upon that timeless space he hadpassed in the hollow, Smith remembered it as some curious nightmare—dimness and tapestried blurring, and a hush like death over the whole twilight land, and the timid voices whispering, whispering, eloqtient with terror and warning.
He groped back among his memories and brought-forth a phrase or two remembered from long ago, an archaic rendering of the immemorial tongue they spoke. It was the simplest version he could remember of the complex speech now used’; but he knew that to them it must sound fantastically strange. Instinctively he whispered as hespoke it, facing like an actor in a play as he mouthed the ancient idiom, -
“I—I cannot understand. Speak—more slowly—”
A torrent of words greeted this rendering of their tongue.
Then there was a great deal of hushing and hissing, and presently two or three between them- began laboriously to recite an involved speech, one syllable at a time. Always two or more shared the task. Never in his converse with.them did he address anyone directly. Ages of terror had bred all directness out of them. -
“Thag,” they said. “Thag, the terrble—That, the
omnipotent—Thag, the unescapable. Beware of Thag.”
For a moment Smith stood quiet, grinning down at them despite himself. There must not be too much of intelligence left among this branch of the race, either, for surely sucb.a warning was superfluous. Yet they had mastered their agonies of timidity to give it. All virtue could not yet have been bred out of them, then. They still had kindness and a sort of desperate courage rooted deep in fear.
“What is Thag?” he managed to inquire, voicing the archaIc syllables uncerthinly. And’ they must have understood the meaning if not the phraseology, for another spate of
whispered tumult burst from the clustering tribe. Then, as before, several took up the task of answering.
“Thag—Thag, the end and the beginning, the center of creation. When Thag breathes the world trembles. The earth was made for Thag’s dwelling-place. All things are Thag ‘s. Oh, beware! Beware.t”~
This much he pieced together out of their diffuse whisperings, catching up the fragments of words he knew and fitting them into the pattern. -
“What—what is the danger?” he managed to ask.
“Thag—.hungers. Thag must be fed. It is we who— feed—him, but there are times when he desires other food than us. It is then he sends his priestess forth to lure—food— in. Oh, beware of Thag!” -
“You mean that the priestess brought me in for—food?”
A chorus of grave, murmuring affirmatives.
“Then why did she leave me?”
“There is no escape from Thag. Thag is the center of creation. All things are Thag’s. When he calls, you must answer. When he hungers, he will have you. Beware of Thag!” - -
Smith considered that for a moment in silence. In the main he felt confident that~he had understood their warning correctly, and he had little reason to doubt that they knew whereof they spoke. Thag might not be the center of the universe; but if they said he could call a victim from anywhere in the land, Smith was not disposed to doubt it. The priestess’ willingness to let him leave her unhindered, yes, even her scornful laughter as he looked back, told the same
story. Whatever Thug might be, his power in this land could -~
not be doubted. He made up his mind suddenly what he must
do, and turned to the breathlessly waiting little folk.
“Which way—lies Thag?” he asked.
A score of dark, thin arms pointed. Smith turned his head speculatively toward the spot they indicated. In this changeless twilight all sense of direction had long since left him, but hemarkedthelineaswellashecouldbytheformationofthи
trees, then turned to the little people with a ceremonious farewell rising to his lips.
“My-thanks for—”he began, to be interrupted by a chorus of - whispering cries of protest. They seemped to sense his intention, and their pleadings were frantic. A panic anxiety for him glowed upon every little terrified face turned up to his, and their eyes were wide with protest and terror. Helplessly he looked down.
“I—I must~go,” he tried stumblingly to say. “My Only chance is to take Thag unawares, before he sends for me.”
He could not know if they understood. Their chattering went on undiminished, and they even went so far as to lay tiny hands on him, as if they would prevent him by force from seeking out the terror of their lives.
“No, no, no!” they wailed murmurously. “You do not know what it is you seek! You do not know Thag! Stay here! Beware of Thag!”
A little prickling of unease went down Smith’s back as he listened. Thag must be very terrible indeed if-even half ‘this alarm had foundation. And to be quite frank with himself, he would greatly have preferred to remain here in the hidden quiet of the hollow, with its illusion of shelter, for as long as he was allowed to stay. But he was not of the stuff that’yields very easily to its own terrors, and hope burned strongly in him still. So he squared his broad shoulders and turned resolutely’ in the direction - the tree-folk had indicated
When they saw that he meant to go, their protests sank to a wail of bitter grieving. With that sound moaning behind him he went up outуf the hollow, like a man setting forth to the music of his own dirge. A few of the bravest went with him a little way, flitting through the underbrush and darting from tree-to tree in a timidity so deeply ingrained that even when no immediate peril threatened they dared not go openly
through the twilight. -
Their presence was comforting to Smith as he went on. A futile desire to help the little terror-ridden tribe was rising in him, a useless gratitude for their warning and their friendli
- ness, their genuine grieving at his departure and their odd, paradoxical bravery even in the midst of hereditary terror.
Buthe knew thathecoulildonothingforthem, whenhe was not at all sure he could even save himself. Something of their panic had comm~nicated its if to him, and he advanced witha sinking at the pit of his stomach. Fear of the unknown isso poignant a thing, feeding on its own terror, that he found his hands beginning to shake a little and his throat going dry as he
went on. -
The rustling and whispering among the bushes dwindled as his followers one by one dropped away,\the bravest’staying the longest, but even they failing in courage as Smith advanced steadily in that direction from which all their lives they had been taught to turn their~faces. Presently he realized that he was alone once more. He went on more quickly, anxious to come face to face with this horror of the twilight and dispel at least the fearfulness of its mystery.
The silence was like death. Not a breeze stirred the leaves, and the only sound was his own breathing, the heavy thud of his own heart. Somehow he felt sure that he was coming nearer to ~is goal. The hush seemed to confirm it. He loosened the force-gun at his thigh.
In that changeless twi1~ght the ground was sloping down once more into a broader hollow. He descended slowly, every sense alert for danger, not knowing if Thag was beast or human or elemental, visible or invisible. The trees were beginning to thin. He knew that he bad almost reached his goal.
He paused at the edge of the last line of trees. A clearing spread out before him at the bottom of the hollow, quiet in the dim, translucent air. He could focus directly upon nooutlines anywhere, for the tapestried blurring of the place. But when he saw what stood in the very center of the clearing be stopped dead-still, like one turned-to stone, and a shock of utter cold went chilling through him. Yet he could not ?iave
said why.. - -
For in the clearing’s center stood the Tree of Life. He had
met the symbol too Often in patterns and designs not lа recognize it, but here that fabulous thing was living, growing, actually springing up from a rooted firmness in the spangled grass as any tree might spring. Yet it could not be real. Its thin brown trunk, of no recognizable substance, smooth and gleaming, mounted in the traditional spiral; its twelve fantastically curving branches arched delicately outward from the central stem. It was bare of leaves. No foliage masked the serpentine brown spiral of the trunk. But at the tip of each symbolic branch flowered a blossom of bloody rose so vivid he could scarcely focus his dazzled eyes upon them.
This tree alone of all objects in the dim land was sharply distinct to the eye—terribly distinct, remorselessly clear. No words can describe the amazing menace that dwelt among its branches. Smith’s flesh crept as he stared, yet he could not for all his staring make out why peril was so eloquent there. To all appearances here stood only a fabulous symbol miraculously come to life; yet danger breathed out from it so strongly that Smith felt the hair lifting on his neck as he stared.
It was no ordinary danger. A nameless, choking, paralyzed panic was swelling in his throat as he gazed upon the perilous beauty of the Tree. Somehow the arches and curves of its branches seemed to limn a pattern so dreadful that his heart beat faster as he gazed upon it. But he could not guess why, though somehow the answer was hovering just out of reach of his conscious mind. From that first glimpse of it his instincts shuddered like a shying stallion, yet reason still looked in vain for an answer.
Nor was the Tree merely a vegetable growth. It was alive,terribly, ominously alive. He could not have said how he knew that, -for-it stood motionless in its empty clearing, not a branch trembling, yet in its immobility more awfully vital than any animate thing. The very sight of it wOke in Smith an insane urging to flight, to put worlds between himself and this inexplicably dreadful ‘thing. -
Crazy impulses stirred in his brain, corn ng to insane birth
at the calling of the Tree’s peril—the desperate need to shut out the sight of that thing that was blasphemy, to put out his own sight rather than gaze longer upon the perilous grace of its branches, to slit h~is own throat that he might not need to dwell, in the same world which housed so frightful a sight as the Tree.
All this was a mad battering in his brain. The strength of ‘him was enough to isolate it in a far corner of his consciousness, where it seethed and shrieked half heeded while he turned the cool control which the spaceways life had taught him to the solution of this urgent question. But even so his hand was moist and shaking on his gun-butt, and the breath rasped in his dry throat.