Fantasy fiction; Imaginary wars and battles -- Fiction
Mivarsh harkened not, but sat all a-quake, looking intently on a
crocodile that came ponderously out upon the bank. And now he began to
scream with terror, crying, “Save me! let me fly! give me my weapons!
It was foretold me by a wise woman that a cocadrill-serpent must devour
me at last!” Whereat the beasts drew back uneasily, and the crocodile,
his small eyes wide, startled by Mivarsh’s cries and violent gestures,
lurched with what speed he might back into the water.
• • • • •
Now in that place Lord Juss and Lord Brandoch Daha and Mivarsh Faz
abode for four moons’ space. Nothing they lacked of meat and drink,
for the beasts of the forest, finding them well disposed, brought them
of their store. Moreover, there came flying from the south, about the
ending of the year, a martlet which alighted in Juss’s bosom and said
to him, “The gentle Queen Sophonisba, fosterling of the Gods, had news
of your coming. And because she knoweth you both mighty men of your
hands and high of heart, therefore by me she sent you greeting.”
Juss said, “O little martlet, we would see thy Queen face to face, and
thank her.”
“Ye must thank her,” said the bird, “in Koshtra Belorn.”
Brandoch Daha said, “That shall we fulfil. Thither only do our thoughts
intend.”
“Your greatness,” said the martlet, “must approve that word. And know
that it is easier to lay under you all the world in arms than to ascend
up afoot into that mountain.”
“Thy wings were too weak to lift me, else I’d borrow them,” said
Brandoch Daha.
But the martlet answered, “Not the eagle that flieth against the sun
may alight on Koshtra Belorn. No foot may tread her, save of those
blessed ones to whom the Gods gave leave ages ago, till they be come
that the patient years await: men like unto the Gods in beauty and in
power, who of their own might and main, unholpen by magic arts, shall
force a passage up to her silent snows.”
Brandoch Daha laughed. “Not the eagle?” he cried, “but thou, little
flitter-jack?”
“Nought that hath feet,” said the martlet. “I have none.”
The Lord Brandoch Daha took it tenderly in his hand and held it high in
the air, looking to the high lands in the south. The birches swaying
by the Bhavinan were not more graceful nor the distant mountain-crags
behind them more untameable to behold than he. “Fly to thy Queen,” he
said, “and say thou spakest with Lord Juss beside the Bhavinan and with
Lord Brandoch Daha of Demonland. Say unto her that we be they that were
for to come; and that we, of our own might and main, ere spring be well
turned summer, will come up to her in Koshtra Belorn to thank her for
her gracious sendings.”
• • • • •
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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