The Worm Ouroboros by Eric Rücker Eddison (e book reader online .TXT) 📖
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But she stood over him, saying, “It shall be seen if thou be a true
king. And be not deceived: if thou fail me here I’ll have no more of
thee. This night we must away. Thou shalt raise Pixyland, which is now
mine by right: raise power in thine own vast kingdom of Impland. Fling
Witchland to the winds. What care I if she sink or swim? This only is
the matter: to punish these vile perjured Demons, enemies of ours and
enemies of all the world.”
“We need ride o’ no journey for that,” said Corund, still putting off
his boots. “Thou shalt shortly see Juss and his brethren before Carcë
with three score hundred fighting men at’s back. Then cometh the metal
to the anvil. Come, come, thou must not weep.”
“I do not weep,” said she. “Nor I shall not weep. But I’ll not be
ta’en in Carcë like a mouse in a trap.”
“I’m glad thou’lt not weep, madam. It is as great pity to see a woman
weep as a goose to go barefoot. Come, be not foolish. We must not part
forces now. We must bide this storm in Carcë.”
But she cried, “There is a curse on Carcë. Gro is lost to us and his
good counsel. Dear my lord, I see something wicked that like a thick
dark shadow shadoweth all the sky above us. What place is there not
subject to the power and regiment of Gorice the King? but he is too
proud: we be all too insolent overweeners of our own works. Carcë hath
grown too great, and the Gods be offended at us. The insolent vileness
of Corinius, the old dotard Corsus that must still be at his
boosing-can, these and our own private quarrels in Carcë must be our bane.
Repugn not therefore against the will of the Gods, but take the helm
in thine own hand ere it be too late.”
“Tush, madam,” said he, “these be but fray-bugs. Daylight shall make
thee laugh at ‘em.”
But Prezmyra, queening it no longer, caught her arms about his neck.
“The odd man to perform all perfectly is thou. Wilt thou see us
rushing on this whirlpool and not swim for it ere it be too late?” And
she said in a choked voice, “My heart is near broke already. Do not
break it utterly. Only thou art left now.”
The chill dawn, the silent room, the guttering candles, and that high-hearted lady of his, daunted for an instant from her noble and equal
courage, cowering like a bird in his embrace: these things were like
an icy breath that passed by and quailed him for a moment. He took her
by her two hands and held her off from him. She held her head high
again, albeit her cheek was blanched; he felt the brave comrade-grip
of her hands in his.
“Dear lass,” he said, “I cast me not to be odd with none of these
spawn of Demonland. Here is my hand, and the hand of my sons, heavy
while breath remaineth us against Demonland for thee and for the King.
But sith our lord the King hath made me a king, come wind, come weet,
we must weather it in Carcë. True is that saw, ‘For fame one maketh a
king, not for long living.’”
Prezmyra thought in her heart that these were fey words. But having
now put behind her hope and fear, she was resolved to kick against the
wind no more, but stand firm and see what Destiny would do.
XXXI THE DEMONS BEFORE CARCEHow Gorice the King, albeit so strong a sorcerer,
elected that by the sword, and chiefly by the Lord
Corund his Captain General, should be
determined as for this time the event of these
high matters; and how those twain, the King and
the Lord Juss, spake face to face at last; and of
the bloody battle before Carce, and what fruit
was garnered there and what made ripe
against harvest.
GORICE the king sate in his chamber the thirteenth morning after these
tidings brought to Carcë. On the table under his hand were papers of
account and schedules of his armies and their equipment. Corund sate
at the King’s right hand, and over against him Corinius.
Corund’s great hairy hands were clasped before him on the table. He
spoke without book, resting his gaze on the steady clouds that sailed
across the square of sky seen through the high window that faced him.
“Of Witchland and the home provinces, O King, nought but good. All the
companies of soldiers which were appointed to repair to this part by
the tenth of the month are now come hither, save some bands of
spearmen from the south, and some from Estreganzia. These last I
expect to-day; Viglus writeth they come with him with the heavy troops
from Baltary I sent him to assemble. So is the muster full as for
these parts: Thramnë, Zorn, Permio, the land of Ar, Trace, Buteny, and
Estremerine. Of the subject allies, there’s less good there. The kings
of Mynia and Gilta: Olis of Tecapan: County Escobrine of Tzeusha: the
king of Ellien: all be here with their contingents. But there’s
mightier names we miss. Duke Maxtlin of Azumel hath flung off’s
allegiance and cut off your envoy’s ears, O King; ‘tis thought for
some supposed light part of the sons of Corsus done to his sister.
That docketh us thirty score stout fighters. The lord of Eushtlan
sendeth no answer, and now are we advertised by Mynia and Gilta of his
open malice and treason, who did stubbornly let them the way hither
through his country while they hastened to do your majesty’s commands.
Then there’s the Ojedian levies, should be nigh a thousand spears, ten
days overdue. Heming, that raiseth Pixyland in Prezmyra’s name, will
bring them in if he may. Who also hath order, being on his way, to
rouse Maltraeny to action, from whom no word as yet; and I do fear
treachery in ‘em. Maltraeny and Ojedia both, they have been so long of
coming. King Barsht of Toribia sendeth flat refusal.”
“It is known to you besides, O King,” said Corinius, “that the king of
Nevria came in last night, many days past the day appointed, and but
half his just complement.”
The King drew back his lips. “I will not dash his spirits by blaming
him at this present. Later, I’ll have that king’s head for this.”
“This is the sum,” said Corund. “Nay, then, I had forgot the Red
Foliot with’s folk, three hundred perchance, came in this morning.”
Corinius thrust out his tongue and laughed: “One hen-lobster such as
he shall scarce afford a course for this banquet.”
“He keepeth faith,” said Corund, “where bigger men turn dastards. ‘Tis
seen now that these forced leagues be as sure as they were sealed with
butter. Your majesty will doubtless give him audience.”
The King was silent awhile, studying his papers. “What strength to-day
in Carcë?” he asked.
Corund answered him, “As near as may be two score hundred foot and
fifty score horse: five thousand in all. And, that I weigh most, O
King, big broad strong set lads of Witchland nigh every jack of ‘em.”
The King said, “‘Twas not well done, O Corund, to bid thy son delay
for Ojedia and Maltraeny. He might else have been in Carcë now with a
thousand Pixylanders to swell our strength.”
“I did that I did,” answered Corund, “seeking only your good, O King.
A few days’ delay might buy us a thousand spears.”
“Delay,” said the King, “hath favoured mine enemy. This we should have
done: at his first landing give him no time but wink, set on him with
all our forces, and throw him into the sea.”
“If luck go with us that may yet be,” said Corund.
The King’s nostrils widened. He crouched forward, glaring at Corund
and Corinius, his jaw thrust out so that the stiff black beard on it
brushed the papers on the table before him. “The Demons,” said he,
“landed i’ the night at Ralpa. They come on with great journeys
northward. Will be here ere three days be spent.”
Both they grew red as blood. Corund spake: “Who told you these
tidings, O King?”
“Care not thou for that,” said the King. “Enough for thee, I know it.
Hath it ta’en you napping?”
“No,” answered he. “These ten days past we have been ready, with what
strength we might make, to receive ‘em, come they from what quarter
they will. So it is, though, that while we lack the Pixyland succours
Juss hath by some odds the advantage over us, if, as our intelligence
saith, six thousand fighting men do follow him, and these forced
besides with some that should be ours.”
“Thou wouldst,” said the King, “await these out of Pixyland, with that
else Heming may gather, afore we offer them battle?”
Said Corund, “That would I. We must look beyond the next turn of the
road, O my Lord the King.”
“That would not I,” said Corinius.
“That is stoutly said, Corinius,” said the King. “Yet remember, thou
hadst the greater force on Krothering Side, yet wast overborne.”
“‘Tis that standeth in my mind, Lord,” said Corund. “For well I know,
had I been there I’d a fared no better.”
The Lord Corinius, whose brow had darkened with the naming of his
defeat, looked cheerfully now and said, “I pray you but consider, O my
Lord the King, that here at home is no room for such a sleight or gin
as that whereby in their own country they took me. When Juss and
Brandoch Daha and their stinking gaberlunzies do cry huff at us on
Witchland soil, ‘tis time to give ‘em a choke-pear. Which with your
leave, Lord, I will promise now to do, other else to lose my life.”
“Give me thy hand,” said Corund. “Of all men else would I a chosen
thee for such a day as this, and (were’t to-day to meet the whole
power of Demonland in arms) to stand perdue with thee for this bloody
service. But let us hear the King’s commands: which way soe’er he
choose, we shall do it right gladly.”
Gorice the King sat silent. One lean hand rested on the iron serpent-head of his chair’s ann, the other, with finger outstretched against
the jutting cheekbone, supported his chin. Only in the deep shadow of
his eye-sockets a lambent light moved. At length he started, as if the
spirit, flown to some unsounded gulfs of time or space, had in that
instant returned to its mortal dwelling. He gathered the papers in a
heap and tossed them to Corund.
“Too much lieth on it,” said he. “He that hath many peas may put more
in the pot. But now the day approacheth when I and Juss must cast up
our account together, and one or all shall be brought to death and
bane.” He stood up from his chair and looked down on those two, his
chosen captains, great men of war raised up by him to be kings over
two quarters of the world. They watched him like little birds under
the eye of a snake. “The country hereabout,” said the King, “is not
good for horsemanship, and the Demons be great horsemen. Carcë is
strong, and never can it be forced by assault. Also under mine eye
should my men of Witchland acquit themselves to do the greatest deeds.
Therefore will we abide them here in Carcë, until young Heming come
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