He was standing upon the top of a tower, measuring
not above fifteen feet each way. Darkness was
all around him. He sat down on the stone parapet,
with a sinking heart; a heavy foreboding possessed
him.
Suddenly, without seeing or hearing anything, he had
the distinct impression that the darkness around him,
on all four sides, was grinning.... As soon
as that happened, he understood that he was wholly
surrounded by Crystalman’s world, and that Muspel
consisted of himself and the stone tower on which
he was sitting..
Fire flashed in his heart.... Millions upon
millions of grotesque, vulgar, ridiculous, sweetened
individuals—once Spirit—were
calling out from their degradation and agony for salvation
from Muspel.... To answer that cry there was
only himself... and Krag waiting below... and Surtur—But
where was Surtur?
The truth forced itself on him in all its cold, brutal
reality. Muspel was no all-powerful Universe,
tolerating from pure indifference the existence side
by side with it of another false world, which had
no right to be. Muspel was fighting for its life—
against all that is most shameful and frightful—against
sin masquerading as eternal beauty, against baseness
masquerading as Nature, against the Devil masquerading
as God....
Now he understood everything. The moral combat
was no mock one, no Valhalla, where warriors are cut
to pieces by day and feast by night; but a grim death
struggle in which what is worse than death—namely,
spiritual death—inevitably awaited the vanquished
of Muspel.... By what means could he hold back
from this horrible war!
During those moments of anguish, all thoughts of Self—the
corruption of his life on Earth—were scorched
out of Nightspore’s soul, perhaps not for the
first time.
After sitting a long time, he prepared to descend.
Without warning, a strange, wailing cry swept over
the face of the world. Starting in awful mystery,
it ended with such a note of low and sordid mockery
that he could not doubt for a moment whence it originated.
It was the voice of Crystalman.
Krag was waiting for him on the island raft.
He threw a stern glance at Nightspore.
“Have you seen everything?”
“The struggle is hopeless,” muttered Nightspore.
“Did I not say I am the stronger?”
“You may be the stronger, but he is the mightier.”
“I am the stronger and the mightier. Crystalman’s
Empire is but a shadow on the face of Muspel.
But nothing will be done without the bloodiest blows....
What do you mean to do?”
Nightspore looked at him strangely. “Are
you not Surtur, Krag?”
“Yes.”
“Yes,” said Nightspore in a slow voice,
without surprise. “But what is your name
on Earth?”
“It is pain.”
“That, too, I must have known.”
He was silent for a few minutes; then he stepped quietly
onto the raft. Krag pushed off, and they proceeded
into the darkness.
