By the time Hirgul was about eighteen, he had become an accomplished rider, and he loved to travel about the countryside near Tídris. But one day, entering the stables, he recalled those dim memories of riding through the woods with his mother. He remembered that his mother’s old mare, Gragadam, was still alive, and very fit for a horse of over twenty years of age. Perhaps she remembers me? He thought. Perhaps she remembers where she carried us?
He found Gragadam in her corner of the stables. It was clear that she was well cared for and content, but when Hirgul drew near she whinnied with pleasure and brought her head to his, moving about as if she was restless. He said:
‘You want to ride, Gragadam! You want to take me somewhere, don’t you!’
Then he saddled her up and brought her forth. He mounted, and they set off. Hirgul let her go where she wanted, and as soon as they were away from Tídris she chose a road leading into the north.
Late in the day, they drew near to a tiny cottage far from any village. Gragadam again whinnied with pleasure, as if she knew the place well. She brought Hirgul right up to the door and stood there, waiting for him to dismount.
Hirgul got down and knocked at the door of the cottage. It was opened by a small, scowling woman, evidently a servant.
‘Who are you, and what do you want?’ she asked.
But before he could reply, an old, cracked voice came from inside the cottage:
‘Make way for him, Nyaula! Make way for Prince Hirgul!’
The servant stepped aside with a grim expression, making a slight bow.
Hirgul entered the cottage. Before him was a bed and sitting in it a wild-looking old woman with a lined face and long grey hair.
‘So, you have come at last! Gragadam has returned to me, and brought you with her! Welcome, my lord. It is, I think, sixteen years since our last meeting.’
As he wondered at this, Hirgul noticed a great axe fixed to the wall over the fireplace; at once he knew it, picturing in memory his mother’s hand reaching out for it.
‘Aye, you recognize Ganting, my lord. Your late mother almost misused him, but you, I am sure, would not.’
Hirgul, bowing, said:
‘Your pardon, madam. You know me, but I have not the honour of knowing you!’
‘The Tîdrissamê have bred you up nobly, my lord Hirgul. I am Sûwikka. I am an ûthéga, but my services are now curtailed, for, as you see, I am bedridden. I was your mother’s dear friend — even though she was greatly displeased with me at the latter end of her life. I can tell you many things about her.’
‘This I am happy to hear. Please tell me more of my mother’s life. I would fain know about my own beginnings. For my kinsfolk can tell me nothing of my fathering.’
Sûwikka motioned Hirgul to a small stool near her bed, and began to tell him the story of Rauwenna’s life. She told him that Rauwenna should rightfully have been Queen and married to Lord Emilak, but was supplanted by Dayamuna. She glossed over how this supplanting took place. She told him that Rauwenna quarrelled with her sister and acted intemperately, so that she had to flee from the court. But in the same way, she passed over the exact events.
Then she told him that the great Lord Nagbith, the Prince of Fíbor, called for Rauwenna to be his bride, and how she travelled to Magéraz Urlan-fên, riding on Gragadam, and was married to the Prince and lived in state in the Tower of Galúd, and how Hirgul was born there and named by the great Prince himself and was appointed to be his heir. And that Prince Nagbith sent Rauwenna and Hirgul back to Dúmiel to carry out his purposes. A third time she told the the tale untruthfully.
Then she told him about the grandsire of Prince Nagbith, the Lord Ungubith, the one who arose from Ombros to rule the whole of the Midworld.
‘Which is as much as to say that you, Hirgul, are the descendant in right line of the Mighty One.’
Then she spoke of the Yoke of Ungubith, which is given to all his people as a sign of his goodwill; and how Rauwenna received it and became one of his people from her heart. Then she told him that Dayamuna caused his mother’s death by trying to wipe away the Yoke with an instrument of ûthéa, though she did not name Sporni or describe him. Then said Sûwikka:
‘And you too, I warrant, have the mark of the Yoke upon you, though not to be seen.’
Hirgul exclaimed:
‘I? How can that be?’
‘You were born in his realm. Let us make trial. Nyaula, bring my staff Gonnsûr!’
The surly servant woman went to a corner and brought forth a long stick. But Sûwikka, as she took it into her hands, breathed upon the tip, and, behold! It glowed with a faint light.
‘Now, my lord, be so good as to loosen your shirt about your shoulders.’
Wondering, Hirgul did so. Then the ûthéga took her staff and lightly touched his bare shoulders with its glimmering tip. To Hirgul’s amazement, a purple pattern appeared on each shoulder; and as it did so, he felt a fierce pride enter his heart, and after it, a surge of anger towards his aunt, Dayamuna, his cousins her children, and all the rulers of Dúmiel.
‘So, my lord, not only are you a son of Ungubith, the forefather of Nagbith your sire; but also you are revealed to be truly one of his people. Fear not, the marks will fade before you go among the Tîdrissamê again. What say you now?’
Then again ill-will welled up in Hirgul, and he cried:
‘That they are all my enemies. Give me Ganting and let me ride back on Gragadam and I will slay them for my mother’s sake!’
‘Well said, Lord Hirgul; but there is a better way to accomplish that end together with the purpose for which your great father sent you here. When you go back, you are to dissemble. Let no one guess that you know the truth. Speak everyone fair.’
‘But then how are the purposes of my father to be accomplished?’
‘You know that, at many a siege, the besiegers have been unable to break into the castle until someone within has opened a gate for them. You are that person. The Princes of Fíbor have never been able to get inside Dúmiel. Why? Is it the might of her armies? Not at all. Even your nurse will have told you!’
‘Yes, we were told tales about the Greenmarch, and of the hostile woods and the queen trees, and of the Fâdhéri who led astray or captured anyone who wandered there. But I took them as tales for children.’
‘Not so, my lord. The Greenmarch is as you have been informed. It has kept the Princes of Fíbor from ridding Dúmiel of this wretched line of queens for five hundred years. But its end draws nigh, and you are the instrument of its doom.’
‘But how can I, just because I am a Yokeservant of the Lord Ungubith, open the gates of the Greenmarch? Am I to take the axe Ganting to its trees?!’
‘This is no matter for jest. An assault by one man on foot, wielding a steel blade, or indeed many such men, would be utterly vain. Those woods cannot be harmed in that way. But from the air, with fire…’
‘From the air?’
‘Yes, Lord Hirgul, did you not know that there are flying creatures that hyûvandri can ride upon? There lives an ancient wingbeast, Hugturágis, who was ridden by both your grandsire, Prámiz, and his brother, Groiznath. He has not been seen since their deaths, for the traitor, Slungandi the Drumster of the Deep — him they named Fúbravâni for the sound of his drumming —, sent him away into the Northlands. He must be summoned. He will be our instrument.’
In wonder, Hirgul asked,
‘How can such a beast be commanded?’
‘To summon him, we need Brandubur, the Drum of the Deep, which Slungandi left behind him after he fell into icedeath. Indeed, he left him in the hands of your foremother and forefather, Queen Vidnî and Prince Arbros, of no honourable memory. He has lain forgotten in the Queen’s House in Tídris for five centuries, gathering dust. To find Brandubur, and bring him back here, must be your first task. Can you do this?’
‘I can.’
‘Then you shall summon that beast and ride him to the land of Nanór in the north. You shall go to the house of Murnag ta-Valka, greatest of ûthégri, which is called Imbrig. You shall obtain from her the last phial of Vidivóya, the unquenchable Starfire. She will give it to you, for she is your great grandame.’
‘How can that be?’
‘Murnag was the mother of Groiznath, who was lost, and Prámiz, your grandsire, for she was consort to the Lord Ungubith. But, to our purpose: then you shall return on Hugturágis here, to Tarûig. For the assault must come from inside Dúmiel. Any attack, even from the air, that comes from outside the Berugwanna, will be repelled. I will instruct you how to find the Rúyatanya, the Queen Tree, whom you will destroy with unquenchable starfire. Thus the ûthéa that binds the Greenmarch into a barrier will be destroyed. Can you do all these things?’
‘I can.’
‘Then begone. Return with the drum at the next Moondeath (that is the new moon) and we shall summon Hugturágis. I will reveal to you the drumsong and the rune that goes with it. Speak no word of this to anyone. Maintain a fair face to all your kin. Farewell.’
And with that, Sûwikka lay back in her bed, seemingly exhausted. The servant took the staff Gonnsûr from her hand and then ushered Hirgul from the cottage. He rode back through the gathering dusk, his head full of thoughts of vengeance.
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