Many a song he sang, telling to spacious and exotic Yann the little
tales and trifles of his city of Durl. And the songs welled up over
the black jungle and came into the clear cold air above, and the great
bands of stars that looked on Yann began to know the affairs of Durl
and Duz, and of the shepherds that dwelt in the fields between, and
the flocks that they had, and the loves that they had loved, and all
the little things that they hoped to do. And as I lay wrapped up in
skins and blankets listening to those songs, and watching the
fantastic shapes of the great trees like to black giants stalking
through the night, I suddenly fell asleep.
When I awoke great mists were trailing away from the Yann. And the
flow of the river was tumbling now tumultuously, and little waves
appeared; for Yann had scented from afar the ancient crags of Glorm,
and knew that their ravines lay cool before him wherein he should meet
the merry wild Irillion rejoicing from fields of snow. So he shook off
from him the torpid sleep that had come upon him in the hot and
scented jungle, and forgot its orchids and its butterflies, and swept
on turbulent, expectant, strong; and soon the snowy peaks of the Hills
of Glorm came glittering into view. And now the sailors were waking up
from sleep. Soon we all ate, and then the helmsman laid him down to
sleep while a comrade took his place, and they all spread over him
their choicest furs.
And in a while we heard the sound that the Irillion made as she came
down dancing from the fields of snow.
And then we saw the ravine in the Hills of Glorm lying precipitous and
smooth before us, into which we were carried by the leaps of Yann. And
now we left the steamy jungle and breathed the mountain air; the
sailors stood up and took deep breaths of it, and thought of their own
far-off Acroctian hills on which were Durl and Duz--below them in the
plains stands fair Belzoond.
A great shadow brooded between the cliffs of Glorm, but the crags were
shining above us like gnarled moons, and almost lit the gloom. Louder
and louder came the Irillion's song, and the sound of her dancing down
from the fields of snow. And soon we saw her white and full of mists,
and wreathed with rainbows delicate and small that she had plucked up
near the mountain's summit from some celestial garden of the Sun. Then
she went away seawards with the huge grey Yann and the ravine widened,
and opened upon the world, and our rocking ship came through to the
light of day.
And all that morning and all the afternoon we passed through the
marshes of Pondoovery; and Yann widened there, and flowed solemnly and
slowly, and the captain bade the sailors beat on bells to overcome the
dreariness of the marshes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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