The great convoy of wains rolled slowly along the high roads until they reached the slopes of the Mountain of the Moon. Here, close to the dwelling of Astagant the good giant, they were able to camp in safety. The wains were placed in a great circle, the draught horses were picketed nearby, campfires were lit, the fugitives from Valkamet were fed, given warm clothes, and led to tents where they could sleep.
On the morrow, Astagant came forth and looked upon the encampment. Then he said to Ingos and Slungandi:
Well have you both and the wain-drivers done.
Now fail not the tryst in the far northlands.
Astagant forth on errand goes
To bid Midworld lords to Melyúnas’ doom.
Then with no further speech he strode away.
When the fugitive Laukonardi were rested, Ingos summoned both them and the wain-drivers of the Vurwe Yamudúna to a great moot in the midst of the encampment. He took his stand on the hillside and addressed them:
Ho, Lost Tribe’s drivers ~ and Moon-beloved all!
A great escape we made ~ from the wicked Valkari.
All their evil doings ~ slavery and sorcery,
Sprang from Melyúnas’ mind ~ he it was ordained it.
Now he means to govern all ~ by a chaining rune:
Names of all Hyûvanka tribes ~ he has woven in a web,
By the casting of the rune ~ thinking he can bind them.
One tribe he knows not ~ the Vurwe Yamudúna!
Nameless you must stay ~ for when he sees you
And he finds that Laukonardi ~ are a Tribe once more
All his plots will come to naught ~ and his realm will tumble!
Now we go to challenge him ~ in his lair in Ombros!
Friend Slungandi has the key ~ to tame the lord of Underland.
There arose great anger among the Tribes at this news of Melyúnas’s plotting, and jubilation at the prospect of overthrowing him. When all had been made ready, the convoy once more prepared to move, this time northward to storm the underground lair of Melyúnas.
‘But where, Father Ingos, is the entrance to Melyúnas’s stronghold, and how may we find it? Do any of the old Giants’ Roads lead to it?’ asked Haigul and Kovalkë.
Then Slungandi, Drumster of the Deep and Roamer of every road, replied:
Dark Awérung that way is named,
’Tis broad and paved with boulders red,
The hands of Kabdath carved those rocks,
Dolefully drove the downward path,
While tough taskmasters bade them toil nightly.
To descend Awérung is an easy thing
With Sporni’s light to lead boldly.
Láwatu Spornile selpasilt’ awayágust’ Awérung.
After this, Slungandi went away to a hollow place by himself. He laid Sporni upon the rags of the drum Brandubur, which he had carried with him since the forging of Gantzor. Deeply he breathed upon them, subtly he bent and folded them, drew them taut and turned them about. He placed them about him, smoothed them and stretched them; and behold, they clung to him, becoming to him as another skin. What had been the great thick base of the drum became a cap on the head of Slungandi, a helm of secrecy.
On the morrow, the great fleet of wains set off again, and at the time of the New Moon they reached the end of the great north-eastward Giants’ Road, and came to a place where the northern mountains reared up like a great wall, crowned with snowy peaks. But in the midst of this barrier, as they approached, a wide ravine seemed to open. It was paved and walled with huge red boulders. The downward slope of the road was gentle. As they followed, the road sank and grew narrower little by little between the great walls of red rock, which mounted higher and higher on either side. At last they reached a spacious pavement, spread before a pair of great red gates. The small pool of sky overhead was covered with dark grey clouds, while a reddish glow seemed to seep from the rocks and fill the gorge. The hearts of many in the great procession of wains quailed; the draught horses were nervous, sweating and tossing their heads.
But Ingos stepped forward and called with a loud voice:
Great Lord Melyúnas ~ ’tis time to pay your reckoning.
A nameless tribe has come ~ to break your web of chaining.
A tribe that lost its name ~ stand witnesses against you.
Come forth to hear your doom ~ and give up all your plotting.
There was silence for a few minutes. Then a voice came, a huge voice that echoed around the gorge as if the mountain itself was speaking. The horses reared and neighed, and some tried to turn their wains and get away; the Hyûvandri covered their ears, and some lay flat, while others struggled to calm the horses. Many murmured to one another, questioning why Ingos should have brought them to this terrible place.
Fools! the Yoke that Melyúnas brings
Your necks will know when Night triumphs.
The new Moon has no might to move.
Let Ingos enter, and offer homage!
Then the great red gates swung open, showing only a deeper darkness beyond the wall. Undaunted, Ingos walked straight forward and into the stronghold. The gates immediately began to close, but as they did so, Slungandi slipped in behind him like a dim shadow.
Facing Ingos was a great dark figure, not like the fair and friendly Melyúnas who had formerly conducted him through the lands of the Midworld to view the works of the Doitherúna. It had the shape of a person seated on a raised throne, with hands on the arms of the throne, feet discernible before the throne’s feet, but in the outline of a head no face was visible. He did not see Slungandi in his covering of dragonhide, but addressed Ingos alone, in a quiet voice, calm but edged with menace.
My guest, welcome, if you walk wisely,
Or be kept captive, if you cling to folly.
Two unknown tribes I can add with ease,
Weave readily into my web of rule!
Now bend your neck to my bountiful rule
And proffer the Talyoran whose presence I tell.
Salute me no more as mild Melyúnas.
The Lord Negobith is my name agelong.
Then Slungandi, shielded from the sight of Melyúnas in his garment of dragon-skin, spoke out:
No Moon we bring, but her might blazes!
No Talyoran bring, but her bairn dazzles!
Fall, Melyúnas, from your fair seeming.
Sprawl, Negobith, and let Night be blinded!
Then he pointed Sporni at the heart of the dark figure who stood before them. A burst of silver light filled the chamber, and persisted, as if the moonbeams of many years had all been gathered at once into a small space. The great red gates once again swung open, for all the assembled folk outside to see what passed within.
The dark figure on the throne was revealed, robed in black, hooded, but still without any visible face. He cried out and tried to rise, but fell back into the seat and remained motionless, as if chained to the seat.
Behind him the den of Ombros was illuminated. It seemed a bare cavern, with neither furniture nor stores nor any appurtenances of the Deep Arts. But in the midst, next to the throne, there stood a great loom, reaching almost to the roof. It held a huge web of thick yarn, in which were figured the symbols of each Tribe: the Wild Rose, the Mountain Stream, the Yew Tree, and all the rest. But the Moon, symbol of the Laukonardi, hated by Melyúnas, was not there, and instead there was the figure of a chained servant, representing the Velgrath Valkari who were now free. And no figure was there for the Lost Tribe.
Then Ingos called forth Haigul and Kovalkë, to represent the Vurwë Yamudúna, and the two elders of the Laukonardi, Marwénas and Linnwenas (whose names mean ‘crescent one’ and ‘waning one’). He bade them bring their staves of office. Though they had been in terror, and trembled all over, they took heart from Ingos and entered the chamber, keeping far from the fearsome figure on the throne. Then Ingos called out:
Fear not, faithful ones ~ the malice of Melyúnas:
Now has the moment come ~ for his runes’ unravelling.
Elders of the Nameless Tribe ~ stand by the right-hand weft.
Elders of the New-named Tribe ~ likewise, on the left.
Now pronounce those names aloud ~ and smite the cursed web.
Then Haigul and Kovalkë, and Marwénas and Linnwenas, hailed their tribes: first, ‘Aiyalte Vurwë Yamudúna’, and then, ‘Aiyalte Laukonardi’, and smote with their staves upon the accursed web of Ombros. And behold, the weft was riven from the warp, from side to side and back, upwards, as if by an invisible hand, until nothing remained but a shapeless mass of yarn. Outside the gates a great shout went up from the Hyûvandri, and they felt a lightening in their hearts, as if they had for as long as they could remember been under the shadow of Melyúnas’s bondage.
The dark being that had once been named Melyúnas cried aloud and fell headlong to the floor. He lay still, unable to rise or move forward. Slungandi stepped forward and placed his foot on the neck of Negobith the new-named. Ever afterwards, Negobith hated Ingos, believing that it was he who had set his foot on his neck; for Slungandi was unseen by him.
But Ingos said to Slungandi:
Nay, mighty crystal wielder ~ let us not take vengeance.
This was once a great one ~ the fairest Entelláwa;
Me he taught many things ~ and showed the Midworld’s treasures.
He may change his ways ~ get his handsome looks back!
Here come some who know ~ what arguments will win him!
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