At that instant I heard a slight noise and looked up to see peering at me from the darkness of one of the tunnels leading from the cavern, two flaming, luminous eyes.
The Golden Beetle was not nearly as tall as a Priest-King, but it was probably considerably heavier. It was about the size of a rhinoceros and the first thing I noticed after the glowing eyes were two multiply hooked, tubular, hollow, pincerlike extensions that met at the tips perhaps a yard beyond its body. They seemed clearly some aberrant mutation of its jaws. Its antennae, unlike those of Priest-Kings, were very short. They curved and were tipped with a fluff of golden hair. Most strangely perhaps were several long, golden strands, almost a mane, which extended from the creature's head over its domed, golden back and fell almost to the floor behind it. The back itself seemed divided into two thick casings which might once, ages before, have been horny wings, but now the tissues had, at the points of touching together, fused in such a way as to form what was for all practical purposes a thick, immobile golden shell. The creature's head was even now withdrawn beneath the shell but its eyes were clearly visible and of course the extensions of its jaws.
I knew the thing before me could slay Priest-Kings.
Most I feared for the safety of Vika of Treve.
I stood before her body my sword drawn.
The creature seemed to be puzzled and made no move to attack.
Undoubtedly in its long life it had never encountered anything like this in its tunnels. It backed up a bit and withdrew its head further beneath the shell of its fused, golden wings. It lifted its hooked, tubular jaws before its eyes as though to shield them from the light.
It occurred to me then that the light of the Mul-Torch burning in the invariably dark tunnels of its domain may have temporarily blinded or disoriented the creature. More likely the smell of the torch's oxidation products suddenly permeating its delicate antennae would have been as cacophonous to it as some protracted, discordant bedlam of noises might have been to us.
It seemed clear the creature did not yet understand what had taken place within its cavern.
I seized the Mul-Torch from between the stones where I had placed it and, with a great shout, thrust it towards the creature's face.
I would have expected it to retreat with rapidity, but it made no move whatsoever other than to lift its tubular, pincerlike jaws to me.
It seemed to me most unnatural, as though the creature might have been a living rock, or a blind, carnivorous growth.
One thing was clear. The creature did not fear me nor the flame.
I withdrew a step and it, on its six short legs, moved forward a step.
It seemed to me that it would be very difficult to injure the Golden Beetle, particularly when its head was withdrawn beneath the shell of its enclosing wings. This withdrawal on its part, of course, would not in the least prevent it from using its great jaws to attack, but it would, I supposed, somewhat narrow the area of its sensory awareness. It would most certainly limit its vision but I did not suppose that the Golden Beetle, any more than a Priest-King, much depended on this sense. Both would be quite at home, incomprehensibly to a visually oriented organism, in utter darkness. On the other hand I could hope that somehow the sensory field of the antennae might be similarly, at least partially, restricted by their withdrawal beneath the casing of the fused, horny wings.
I slipped my sword into its sheath and knelt beside Vika's body, not taking my eyes off the creature who stood about four yards distant.
By feeling I closed the lids of her eyes in order that they might no longer stare blindly out with that look of frozen horror.
Her body was stiff yet from the venom which had induced the paralysis, but now, perhaps becaused of the removal of the five eggs, it seemed somewhat warmer and more yielding than before.
As I touched the girl the Beetle took another step forward.
It began to hiss.
This noise unnerved me for a moment because I had been used to the uncanny silence of Priest-Kings.
Now the Beetle began to poke its head out from beneath the shelter of those domed, golden wings and its short antennae, tifted with golden fluff, thrust out and began to explore the chamber.
With my right hand I lifted Vika to my shoulder and stood up.
The hissing now became more intense.
Apparently the creature did not wish me to remove Vika from the cavern.
Walking backwards, Vika on my shoulder, th Mul-Torch in my hand, I slowly retreated from the cavern of the Golden Beetle.
When the creature, following me, crawled over the pile of soiled moss and stems on which Vika had lain, it stopped and began to poke among the shattered remains of the eggs I had crushed.
I had no notion of the speed of the creature but at this point I turned and began to jog away down the passage, back toward the entrance tunnels of the Golden Beetle. I hoped, considering the size and shape and probable weight of the creature, and the comparative tininess of its legs, that it would not be able to move quickly, at least not for a sustained period.
About an Ehn after I had turned and began to move away from the cavern, Vika on my shoulder, I heard from the cavern one of the strangest and most horrifying sounds I had ever heard in my life, a long, weird, frantic, enraged rush of sound, more than a rush of air, more than a wild hiss, almost a cry of pain, of comprehension and agony.
I stopped for a moment and listened.
Now, scrambling after me in the tunnel, I could hear the approach of the Golden Beetle.
I turned and jogged on.
After a few Ehn I stopped again and once more listened.
Apparently my conjecture as to the mobility of the Golden Beetle had been correct and the speed of its pursuit had quickly slackened. Yet I knew that somewhere back there it would still be coming, that it would not yield its vengeance and its prey so easily. It was still coming, somewhere back there in the darkness, slowly, patiently, implacably, like the coming of winter or the weathering of a stone.
I wondered at the nature of the Beetle's pursuit of his prey.
How horrible I thought it would be to be trapped in these tunnels, waiting for the Beetle, able to avoid it perhaps for hours, perhaps days, but not daring to sleep or to stop, not knowing if one were going down a blind passage, if the Beetle were suddenly to confront one at the next turn.
No, I supposed the Beetle did not need speed in its tunnels.
I set Vika down.
I leaned the Mul-Torch against the side of the passage.
And yet it seemed strange to me to think of the Beetle as pursuing its prey in these tunnels for hours, perhaps days. It seemed foolish, unlikely, a puzzle of nature. But I myself had seen its body and knew now that it was incapable of prolonged, rapid movement. How was it then, I asked myself, that such a slow, awkward, clumsy creature, no matter how formidable at close range, could capture and slay an organism as alert and swift as Priest-Kings?
I moved Vika's limbs and rubbed her hands to see if I could restore her circulation to a more normal level.
Bending my ear to her heart I was pleased to detect its faint beat. Holding her wrist I sensed a tiny movement of blood in her veins.
There did not seem to be much air in the tunnels of the Golden Beetle.
I supposed they were not ventilated as well as the tunnels of the Priest-Kings. There was an odour in the tunnels of the Golden Beetle, perhaps of its spoor or various exudates. The odour seemed somewhat oppressive. I had noticed it much before. Now I became aware of how long I had been in its tunnels, how long without food and how tired I was. Surely there would be time to sleep. The Beetle was far behind. Surely there would be time, if not to sleep, to close my eyes for a moment.
I awoke with a start.
The odour was now insufferable and close.
The Mul-Torch was little more now than a glowing stub.
I saw the peering eyes.
The golden strands on its back were lifted and quivering, and it was from them that the odour came.
I cried out as I felt two long, hard, curved objects close on my body.
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