Fantasy fiction; Imaginary wars and battles -- Fiction
OF THE HOLD OF CARCË, AND OF THE MIDNIGHT PRACTICES OF KING GORICE
XII. IN THE ANCIENT CHAMBER, PREPARING DOLE AND DOOM FOR THE
LORDS OF DEMONLAND.
When the Witches were come aboard of their ship and all stowed, and
the rowers set in order on the benches, they bade farewell to the
Red Foliot and rowed out to the deep, and there hoisted sail and put
up their helm and sailed eastward along the land. The stars wheeled
overhead, and the east grew pale, and the sun came out of the sea on
the larboard bow. Still sailed they two days and two nights, and on
the third day there was land ahead, and morning rose abated by mist
and cloud, and the sun was as a ball of red fire over Witchland in the
east. So they hung awhile off Tenemos waiting for the tide, and at
high water sailed over the bar and up the Druima past the dunes and
mud-flats and the Ergaspian mere, till they reached the bend of the
river below Carcë. Solitary marsh-land stretched on either side as
far as the eye might reach, with clumps of willow and rare homesteads
showing above the flats. Northward above the bend a bluff of land fell
sharply to the elbow of the river, and on the other side sloped gently
away for a few miles till it lost itself in the dead level of the
marshes. On the southern face of the bluff, monstrous as a mountain in
those low sedge-lands, hung square and black the fortress of Carcë.
It was built of black marble, rough-hewn and unpolished, the outworks
enclosing many acres. An inner wall with a tower at each corner formed
the main stronghold, in the south-west corner of which was the palace,
overhanging the river. And on the south-west corner of the palace,
towering sheer from the water’s edge seventy cubits and more to the
battlements, stood the keep, a round tower lined with iron, bearing
on the corbel table beneath its parapet in varying form and untold
repetition the sculptured figure of the crab of Witchland. The outer
ward of the fortress was dark with cypress trees: black flames burning
changelessly to heaven from a billowy sea of gloom. East of the keep
was the water-gate, and beside it a bridge and bridge-house across the
river, strongly fortified with turrets and machicolations and commanded
from on high by the battlements of the keep. Dismal and fearsome to
view was this strong place of Carcë, most like to the embodied soul of
dreadful night brooding on the waters of that sluggish river: by day a
shadow in broad sunshine, the likeness of pitiless violence sitting in
the place of power, darkening the desolation of the mournful fen; by
night, a blackness more black than night herself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account