sniffed the wind cautiously and listened, then lowered his great head down
to the pool and drank. At that instant Athelvok leapt into the water and
shot forward through its weedy depths among the stems of the strange
flowers that floated upon broad leaves on the surface. And Athelvok kept
his spear out straight before him, and the fingers of his left hand he
held rigid and straight, not pointing upwards, and so did not come to the
surface, but was carried onward by the strength of his spring and passed
unentangled through the stems of the flowers. When Athelvok jumped into
the water the bull must have thrown his head up, startled at the splash,
then he would have listened and have sniffed the air, and neither hearing
nor scenting any danger he must have remained rigid for some moments, for
it was in that attitude that Athelvok found him as he emerged breathless
at his feet. And, striking at once, Athelvok drove the spear into his
throat before the head and the terrible horns came down. But Athelvok had
clung to one of the great horns, and had been carried at terrible speed
through the rhododendron bushes until the gariach fell, but rose at once
again, and died standing up, still struggling, drowned in its own blood.
But to Hilnaric listening it was as though one of the heroes of old time
had come back again in the full glory of his legendary youth.
And long time they went up and down the terraces, saying those things
which were said before and since, and which lips shall yet be made to say
again. And above them stood Poltarnees beholding the Sea.
And the day came when Athelvok should go. And Hilnaric said to him:
"Will you not indeed most surely come back again, having just looked over
the summit of Poltarnees?"
Athelvok answered: "I will indeed come back, for thy voice is more
beautiful than the hymn of the priests when they chant and praise the Sea,
and though many tributary seas ran down into Oriathon and he and all the
others poured their beauty into one pool below me, yet would I return
swearing that thou were fairer than they."
And Hilnaric answered:
"The wisdom of my heart tells me, or old knowledge or prophecy, or some
strange lore, that I shall never hear thy voice again. And for this I give
thee my forgiveness."
But he, repeating the oath that he had sworn, set out, looking often
backwards until the slope became to step and his face was set to the rock.
It was in the morning that he started, and he climbed all the day with
little rest, where every foot-hole was smooth with many feet. Before he
reached the top the sun disappeared from him, and darker and darker grew
the Inner Lands. Then he pushed on so as to see before dark whatever thing
Poltarnees had to show. The dusk was deep over the Inner Lands, and the
lights of cities twinkled through the sea-mist when he came to
Poltarnees's summit, and the sun before him was not yet gone from the sky.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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