Fantasy fiction; Imaginary wars and battles -- Fiction
Gro said unto the King, “For many years, Lord, or ever I came to Carcë,
I fared up and down the world, and I am acquainted with objects of
terror as a child with his toys. I have seen in the southern seas,
by the light of Achernar and Canopus, giant sea-horses battling with
eight-legged cuttle-fishes in the whirlpools of the Korsh. Yet was I
unafraid. I was in the isle Ciona when the fires of the pit brast forth
in that isle and split it as a man’s skull is split with an axe, and
the green gulfs of the sea swallowed that isle, and the stench and the
steam hung in the air for days where the burning rock and earth had
sizzled in the ocean. Yet was I unafraid. Also was I with Gaslark in
the flight out of Zajë Zaculo, when the Ghouls took the palace over
our heads, and portents walked in his halls in broad daylight, and
the Ghouls conjured the sun out of heaven. Yet was I unafraid. And
for thirty days and thirty nights wandered I alone on the face of the
Moruna in Upper Impland, where scarce a living soul hath been: and
there the evil wights that people the air of that desert dogged my
steps and gibbered at me in darkness. Yet was I unafraid; and came
in due time to Morna Moruna, and thence, standing on the lip of the
escarpment as it were on the edge of the world, looked southaway where
never mortal eye had gazed aforetime, across the untrodden forests of
the Bhavinan. And in that skyey distance, pre-eminent beyond range
on range of ice-robed mountains, I beheld two peaks throned for ever
between firm land and heaven in unearthly loveliness: the spires and
airy ridges of Koshtra Pivrarcha, and the wild precipices that soar
upward from the abysses to the queenly silent snow-dome of Koshtra
Belorn.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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