After the wreck of the raft of Groiznath in the rapids of the underground river, Slungandi performed a great feat of swimming — for water was the element in which he was fostered — and after descending many waterfalls and rapids, found himself in the great western lake, Fleswenta-Féore. From there he travelled a long way behind the Fellgiants’ encampments and re-entered the stronghold by one of the hidden doors that only he knew. He found the garrison barricaded in the mountaintop gateway, holding back a great force of Fellgiants who occupied the place later known as the Ruined Ring. Mivgâ was now the Stonegiants’ only captain, and he said to Slungandi:
‘In an evil day did you depart to provision the stronghold, for we are so few that little provender is needed, and we are so hard put to it that we hardly have time to eat. And now we know that all the stratagems and manoeuvres by which we formerly worsted the Dagangri came out of your head, and not from your frozen-hearted master, who sits below in Onskabâ besotted by his coldworm and flattered by his Hawkheaded servants and their Hyûvanka mistresses. Canst thou devise any rede that will deliver us?’
Mivgâ did not know the truth of Slungandi’s most recent journey. He had not been in search of provisions, for no more such journeys could be made. His Falakkaska companions — they disdained being treated as his servants — had been captivated by the runewives whom they had brought from Valkamet to Onskabâ, and refused to make any further toilsome journeys. Slungandi, in disguise, went to find Groiznath and his fellows and led them to the Hidden Rift. Then he accompanied them on their voyage down the Secret River. His intention had been to bring Groiznath into Kapgar Kûm and deliver him into the hands of the Stonegiants. But owing to its poor construction, the raft was wrecked. Slungandi was swept away by the river. Thus he failed to thwart Groiznath, but the latter, surviving the wreck, and finding himself in the very heart of Kapgar Kûm, brought about the destruction of most of the army of the Stonegiants.
It came strongly into the mind of Slungandi that on this venture he had not had the Talyoran with him. He passed over the failure of his stratagem in silence and said nothing of it to Mivgâ.
But Mivgâ persisted in his appeal.
‘You alone can persuade Dreygan. He is the great Smith. He has his mighty anvil standing idle. If he forged for me a great weapon, I could sweep away the accursed Dagangri. With your rune lore and his hammer, together you could make a sword that none could resist.’
Slungandi hastened down to Onskabâ. He entered the great cave, lit with blue icelamps, hung with icicles. To one side was the highseat Fâlagidhron, and in it sat the last of the Frostgiants, Dreygan the smith. He appeared to be asleep. In the midst stood the mighty anvil Nolgon, and on it lay the hammer Gantâr.
‘Awake, awake, Lord Dreygan,’ cried Slungandi. ‘Your foes are pressing in, but you sit idle. Take up Gantâr, step to Nolgon, forge a mighty weapon with which your brethren on the mountaintop may put to flight the Fellgiants, before it is too late.’
Dreygan roused himself a little. ‘Let us loose Firungwáfi upon them,’ he said drowsily.
‘Nay, Lord Dreygan. If he is loosed he cannot be managed, and he will freeze us all. We can manage him only when he is made too docile to fight. You must forge a weapon that has the same virtue as the breath of the Coldworm. Fashion a Coldsword from the breath and spittle of Firungwáfi. That can be achieved by virtue of Gantâr and the Talyoran. The valiant Mivgâ prays that you will give him such a weapon. With a sword whose touch brings frozen sleep in an instant, he can drive our foes to destruction.’
At this suggestion, Dreygan suddenly became alert, sprang from his highseat, and seized Gantâr from the anvil. But the mention of Mivgâ seemed to stir up fierce anger: his eyes blazed and his white locks and beard stood out stiffly, and he brandished Gantâr.
‘Fôafáma! I will forge such a sword. It will be the mightiest sword forged in the Midworld, greater than the swords of the Hlundika Kabdath! But only the hand of Dreygan shall wield it, and with it despatch his enemies, and whoever else strikes with it shall suffer frozen death along with those to whom it deals it. Stonegiants? Poltroons! They are no brethren of mine! The miserable Mivgâ shall have no part in it. It shall be the Sword of Dreygan, and its name shall be Gantzor.’
For indeed the blandishments of the Runewives, at the behest of Murnag ta-Valka, had turned Dreygan’s heart against the other Gangri.
Then Slungandi appointed a day and a time when Dreygan, and the Falakkazri, and the runewives, and he himself should assemble together for the forging of Gantzor the Coldsword.
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