Fantasy fiction; Imaginary wars and battles -- Fiction
She answered, “I have an egg. In all lands else must such an egg lie
barren and sterile, save in this land of Zimiamvia which is sacred
to the lordly races of the dead. And thus cometh this steed to the
birth: when one of might and heart beyond the wont of man sleepeth
in this land with the egg in his bosom, greatly desiring some high
achievement, the fire of his great longing hatcheth the egg, and the
hippogriff cometh out therefrom, weak-winged at first as thou hast seen
a butterfly new-hatched out his chrysalis. Then only mayst thou mount
him, and if thou be man enow to turn him to thy will he shall bear thee
to the uttermost parts of earth unto thine heart’s desire. But if thou
be aught less than greatest, beware that steed, and mount only earthly
coursers. For if there be aught of dross within thee, and thine heart
falter, or thy purpose cool, or thou forget the level aim of thy glory,
then will he toss thee to thy ruin.”
“Thou hast this thing, O Queen?” said Lord Juss.
“My lord,” she said softly, “more than an hundred years ago I found
it, while I rambled on the cliffs that are about this charmed Lake of
Ravary. And here I hid it, being taught by the Gods what thing I had
found and knowing what was foreordained, that certain of earth should
come at last to Koshtra Belorn. Thinking in my heart that he that
should come might be of those who bare some great unfulfilled desire,
and might be of such might as could ride to his desire on such a steed.”
They abode, talking little, by the charmed lake’s shore till evening.
Then they arose, and went with her to a pavilion by the lake, built in
a grove of flowering trees. Ere they went to rest, she brought them the
hippogriff’s egg, great as a man’s body, yet light of weight, rough and
coloured like gold. And she said, “Which of you, my lords?”
Juss answered, “He, if might and a high heart should only count; but I,
because my brother it is that we must free from his dismal place.”
So the Queen gave the egg to Lord Juss; and he, bearing it in his arms,
bade her good-night, saying, “I need no other laudanum than this to
make me sleep.”
And the ambrosial night came down. And gentle sleep, softer than sleep
is on earth, closed their eyes in that pavilion beside the enchanted
lake.
• • • • •
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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