The Worm Ouroboros by Eric Rücker Eddison (e book reader online .TXT) 📖
- Author: Eric Rücker Eddison
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the dark pines of Westmark, and still no sign from the north.
“Thou didst send one forth for tidings?” she said to Ravnor, the third
time she went on the wall.
He answered, “Betimes this morning, your highness. But ‘tis slow
faring until a be a mile or twain clear of the castle, for a must
elude their small bands that go up and down guarding the countryside.”
“Bring him to me o’ the instant of his return,” said she.
With a foot on the stair, she turned back. “Ravnor,” she said.
He came to her.
“Thou,” she said, “hast been years enow my brother’s steward in
Krothering, and our father’s before him, to know what mind and spirit
dwelleth in them of our line. Tell me, truly and sadly, what thou
makest of this. Lord Spitfire is too late: other else, Goblinland too
sudden-early (and that was his fault from of old). What seest thou in
it? Speak to me as thou shouldst to my Lord Brandoch Daha were it he
that asked thee.”
“Highness,” said the old man Ravnor, “I will answer you my very
thought: and it is, woe to Goblinland. Since my Lord Spitfire cometh
not yet from the north, only the deathless Gods descending out of
heaven can save the king. The Witches number at an humble reckoning
twice his strength; and man to man you were as well pit a hound
against a bear, as against Witches Goblins. For all that these be
fierce and full of fiery courage, the bear hath it at the last.”
Mevrian listened, looking on him with sorrowful steady eyes. “And he
so generous-noble flown to comfort Demonland in the blackness of her
days,” she said at last. “Can fate be so ungallant? O Ravnor, the
shame of it! First La Fireez, now Gaslark. How shall any love us any
more? The shame of it, Ravnor!”
“I would not have your highness,” said Ravnor, “too hasty to blame us.
If their plan and compact have gone amiss, ‘tis likelier King
Gaslark’s misprision than Lord Spitfire’s. We know not for sure which
day was set for this landing.”
While he so spake, he was looking past her seaward, a little south of
the reddest part of the sunset. His eyes widened. He touched her arm
and pointed. Sails were hoisted among the masts at Aurwath. Smoke, as
of burning, reeked up against the sky. As they watched, the most part
of the ships moved out to sea. From those that remained, some five or
six, fire leaped and black clouds of smoke. The rest as they came out
of the lee of the land, made southward for the open sea under oar and
sail.
Neither spake; and the Lady Mevrian leaning her elbows on the parapet
of the wall hid her face in her hands.
Now came Ravnor’s messenger at length back from his faring, and the
old man brought him in to Mevrian in her bower in the south part of
Krothering. The messenger said, “Highness, I bring no writing, since
that were too perilous had I fallen in my way among Witches. But I had
audience of my Lord Spitfire and my Lord Zigg in the gates of
Gashterndale. And thus their lordships commanded me deliver it unto
you, that your highness should be at ease and secure, seeing that they
do in such sort hold all the ways to Krothering, that the Witchland
army cannot escape out of this countryside that is betwixt
Thunderfirth and Stropardon Firth and the sea, but and if they will
give battle unto their lordships. But if they choose rather to abide
here by Krothering, then may our armies close on them and oppress
them, since our forces do exceed theirs by near a thousand spears.
Which tomorrow will be done whate’er betide, since that is the day
appointed for Gaslark the king to land with a force at Aurwath.”
Mevrian said, “They know nought then of this direful miscarriage, and
Gaslark here already before his time and thrown back into the sea?”
And she said, “We must apprise them on’t, and that hastily and
tonight.”
When the man understood this, he answered, “Ten minutes for a bite and
a stirrup-cup, and I am at your ladyship’s service.”
And in a short while, that man went forth again secretly out of
Krothering in the dusk of night to bring word to Lord Spitfire of what
was befallen. And the watchmen watching in the night from Krothering
walls beheld northward under Erngate End the campfires of the Witches
like the stars.
Night passed and day dawned, and the camp of the Witches showed empty
as an empty shell.
Mevrian said, “They have moved in the night.”
“Then shall your highness hear great tidings ere long,” said Ravnor.
“‘Tis like we may have guests in Krothering tonight,” said Mevrian.
And she gave order for all to be made ready against their coming, and
the choicest bedchambers for Spitfire and Zigg to welcome them. So,
with busy preparations, the day went by. But as evening came, and
still no riding from the north, some shadows of impatience and anxious
doubt crept with night’s shades creeping across heaven across their
eager expectancy in Krothering. For Mevrian’s messenger returned not.
Late to rest went the Lady Mevrian; and with the first peeping light
she was abroad, muffled in her great mantle of velvet and swansdown
against the eager winds of morning. Up to the battlements she went,
and with old Ravnor searched the blank prospect. For pale morning rose
on an empty landscape; and so all day until the evening: watching, and
waiting, and questioning in their hearts.
So went they at length to supper on this third night after Aurwath
field. And ere supper was half done was a stir in the outer courts,
and the rattle of the bridge let down, and a clatter of horsehooves on
the bridge and the jasper pavements. Mevrian sat erect and expectant.
She nodded to Ravnor who wanting no further sign went hastily out, and
returned in an instant hastily and with heavy brow. He spake in her
ear, “News, my Lady. It were well you bade him to private audience.
Drink this cup first,” pouring out some wine for her.
She rose up, saying to the steward, “Come thou, and bring him with
thee.”
As they went he whispered her, “Astar of Rettray, sent by the Lord
Zigg with matter of urgent import for your highness’s ear.”
The Lady Mevrian sat in her ivory chair cushioned with rich stuffed
silks of Beshtria, with little golden birds and strawberry leaves with
the flowers and rich red fruits all figured thereon in gorgeous
colours of needlework. She reached out her hand to Astar who stood
before her in his battle harness, muddy and bebloodied from head to
foot. He bowed and kissed her hand: then stood silent. He held his
head high and looked her in the face, but his eyes were bloodshot and
his look was ghastly like a messenger of ill.
“Sir,” said Mevrian, “stand not in doubt, but declare all. Thou
knowest it is not in our blood to quail under dangers and misfortune.”
Astar said, “Zigg, my brother-in-law, gave me this in charge, madam,
to tell thee all truly.”
“Proceed,” said she. “Thou knowest our last news. Hour by hour since
then, we watched on victory. I have no mean welcome feast prepared
against your coming.”
Astar groaned. “My Lady Mevrian,” said he, “you must now prepare a
sword, not a banquet. You did send a runner to Lord Spitfire.”
“Ay,” said she.
“He brought us advertisement that night,” said Astar, “of Gaslark’s
overthrow. Alas, that Goblinland was a day too soon, and so bare alone
the brunt. Yet was vengeance ready to our hand, as we supposed. For
every pass and way was guarded, and ours the greater force. So for
that night we waited, seeing Corinius’s fires alight in his camp on
Krothering Side, meaning to smite him at dawn of day. Now in the night
were mists abroad, and the moon early sunken. And true it is as ill it
is, that the whole Witchland army marched away past us in the dark.”
“What?” cried Mevrian, “and slept ye all to let them by?”
“In the middle night,” answered he, “we had sure tidings he was afoot,
and the fires yet burning in his camp a show to mock us withal. By all
sure signs, we might know he was broke forth northwestward, where he
must take the upper road into Mealand over Brocksty Hause. Zigg with
seven hundred horse galloped to Heathby to head him off, whiles our
main force fared their swiftest up Little Ravendale. Thou seest,
madam, Corinius must march along the bow and we along the bowstring.”
“Yes,” said Mevrian. “Ye had but to check him with the horse at
Heathby, and he must fight or fall back toward Justdale where he was
like to lose half his folk in Memmery Moss. Outlanders shall scarce
find a firm way there in a dark night.”
“Certain it is we should have had him,” said Astar. “Yet certain it is
he doubled like a hare and fooled us all to the top of our bent:
turned in his tracks, as later we concluded, somewhere by Goosesand,
and with all his army slipped back eastward under our rear. And that
was the wonderfullest feat heard tell of in all chronicles of war.”
“Tush, noble Astar,” said Mevrian. “Labour not Witchland’s praises,
nor imagine not I’ll deem less of Spitfire’s nor Zigg’s generalship
because Corinius, by art or fortune’s favour, dodged ‘em in the dark.”
“Dear Lady,” said he, “even look for the worst and prepare yourself
for the same.”
Her gray eyes steadily beheld him. “Certain intelligence,” said he,
“was brought us of their faring with all speed they might eastaway
past Switchwater; and ere the sun looked well over Gemsar Edge we were
hot on the track of them, knowing our force the stronger and our only
hope to bring them to battle ere they reached the Stile, where they
have made a fortress of great strength we might scarce hope to howster
them out from if they should win thither.”
He paused. “Well,” said she.
“Madam,” he said, “that we of Demonland are great and invincible in
war, ‘tis most certain. But in these days fight we as a man that
fighteth hobbled, or with half his gear laid by, or as a man half
roused from sleep. For we be reft of our greatest. Bereft of these,
such sorrows befall us and such doom as at Thremnir’s Heugh last
autumn shattered our strength in pieces, and now this very day yet
more terribly hath put us down on Switchwater Way.”
Mevrian’s cheek turned white, but she said no word, waiting.
“We were eager in the chase,” said Astar. “I have told thee why,
madam. Thou knowest how near to the mountains runneth the road past
Switchwater, and the shores of the lake hem in the way for miles
against the mountain spurs, and woods clothe the lower slopes, and
dells and gorges run up betwixt the spurs into the mountain side. The
day was misty, and the mists hung by the shores of Switchwater. When
we had marched so far that our van was about over against the stead of
Highbank that stands on the farther shore, the battle began: greatly
to their advantage, since Corinius had placed strong forces in the
hills on our right flank, and so ambushed us and took us at unawares.
Not to
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