Where before there had been smooth golden sand, there were now everywhere marks of the trampling of feet. In the midst of it lay the white form of the Drumster of the Deep. Arbros and Vidnî approached the place sorrowfully. As they gazed down at the white figure on the sand, Vidnî said:
‘After all that he went through, his venture has failed.’
And Arbros said:
‘And they are carrying Gantzor to Kapgar Kûm, and Negobith will take it, and use it smite all his enemies with frozen death!’
‘He can frighten everyone into receiving the Yoke and becoming his servants and going to live in the great city that Rauno spoke of.’
‘Somehow we will have to make our city strong enough to resist them. But how? I don’t feel ready for the task.’
‘But now, Arbros, what are we to do about poor Slungandi here?
Arbros said, doubtfully:
‘We could bury him on the shore, as he did with Groiznath.’
‘Arbros, we must somehow lay him where he was going to put Gantzor: alongside Father Ingos on his island!’
‘But how shall we get him into the boat? And out again when we reach Otset Ingos?
‘Sporni will help:
“You will find he helps
To open doors, and in dark places
Bring the Moon’s glory when your mood falters.”
That’s what he said. I do not know how, but we must try.’
With that they went to the boat. They opened the sail locker and took out an old sail. They returned to where Slungandi lay and spread the sail beside him.
‘Arbros, do not touch him with your bare hands. You would freeze to death at once! Look, the gauntlets! Prince Prámiz threw one down when he’d used it, and Slungandi must have thrown the other off just before he — fell.’
So Arbros put on the dragonhide gauntlets that Murnag ta-Valka had made for Groiznath her hapless son. And Vidnî pointed Sporni at him as he stooped to pull Slungandi’s body on to the sail.
Fi-ailéyur. Fi-silfenéyur. Im vówa fi-thebur. (I lift him up. I make him light. And I carry him away.)
She breathed these words, and Arbros drew the body with ease on to the sail and then set off down the beach, dragging the sail behind him. And with like aid from Sporni, they placed Slungandi in the bows where he was wont to sit, and cast off from the Bay of Golden Death.
It was several days’ voyage from there to Yivanówa, from which Otset Ingos was only a short distance. A west wind sprang up and bore them briskly along. But it was a sad time. Vidnî drew on her knowledge of the stars to set a safe course. On the voyage as she had foreseen it, she would have been full of pride and pleasure at this achievement. Instead, it was simply a necessary task to achieve their solemn goal.
There came a night of moonlight when they noticed a strong current pushing into the southern sea. It was the outflow of the great Berusilwa River. Then Vidnî chose a new course, as best she could, south-eastwards towards the Isle of Ingos. She told Sporni where she wanted to go. He seemed to drink the moonlight in. In the very early hours of day they came to the isle. It had a tiny harbour, roughly hewn from the island’s rocks. From there steps led up to the high place where Ingos lay. Arbros and Vidnî gazed in despair at the ascent. Arbros said:
‘This time I cannot drag him on the sail. And he is far too heavy for us to carry up all those steps. I don’t believe that Sporni can make it easy as he did on the beach.’
Vidnî said,
‘I will have to try.’
She pointed Sporni at the figure lying in the bows of the Aphadus. Nothing happened. They waited, and still nothing. So they sat down on the small quayside — it was no more than a shelf of rock — and leaned back to rest.
The Moon shone very brightly. In fact, she seemed to shine far more brightly than they had ever seen her. The whole isle was bathed in her light. It was almost as bright as day. Then they heard a splashing which was not the regular movement of the waves against the shores of the Isle. Something was approaching over the sea towards them. For a moment they were terrified: it looked like a monstrous shape. But as it got closer they could see the form of a huge man, or a huge being like a man, somehow riding over the waves. Yes, he was riding — on the back of a mighty fish. When he was very close, they could see that he was a veritable giant, and the fish was of comparable proportions, almost like a whale. Then his voice came over the waters:
Fi-ailéthur. Fi-silfenéthur. Im vówa fi-thebethur. (‘I will raise him. I will make him light. And I will bear him away.)
The giant waded ashore. He seemed to be clad in the scales of fishes, which glistened in the bright moonlight.
‘Hail, Hope-children! Home you have brought
Silûnakánti, to this secret isle.
A praiseworthy deed. Here the proud Drumster
By Father Ingos, in firungamlas,
Shall lie agelong till the liberation.’
Vidnî said:
‘Who are you, sir? For you seem to know much about what has happened!’
He replied:
I am Astagant, ancient Guardian,
And this isle’s warden. I watch over
Those that sleep here. No slinking foe
Nor vengeful Valka nor vile netáwa
Can set a foot on this fenced island.
Now follow! I fetch our fallen friend.
Without effort, Astagant stooped over the boat and lifted Slungandi in his bare arms. The cold had no effect upon him. Then he stepped on to the small quay and strode solemnly up the steps. Vidnî and Arbros followed. The moonlight bathed the whole rock, and glittered on the wave tops that stretched away towards the distant mainland.
When they came out on to the top of the isle, they caught their breath. It was level, and seemed round, and it was all bathed in moonlight. In the midst there was a platform of wood, and on it, a white sleeping form, the body of Father Ingos. There was peace and silence, but for the quiet sound of the sea. Awe came upon them, and they knelt down. The tall giant was outlined against the Moon’s disc. He gently laid the body of Slungandi next to Ingos on the platform.
A sudden thought came to Arbros. He said:
‘O Master Astagant, we have lost the coldsword Gantzor that Slungandi wished to bring here for safety. The enemy has it. But we have the twin of that sword, Daganarth. Shall I bring it to lay by him?’
But Astagant, standing in the moonlight beside the two sleeping ones, replied:
‘Nay, Lord Arbros. Your quest has not wholly failed. Take Daganarth, the fellow of Gantzor, and let him be the foe of Gantzor. Daganarth shall fight for your people against the might of Oigenas.’
And Arbros and Vidnî found no reply. The greatness of the burden laid upon them seemed too much.
Then Astagant said:
‘And now, sleep here in your boat, and in the morning, set sail for Ravinnigos. You will know what to do when you reach your city.’
So they did. They slept soundly, despite the labours and terrors of the foregoing days. In the morning there was no sign of Astagant. They did not even think of ascending again to the top of the Isle, but set out immediately to return to their former life.
Here ends the Tale of Gantzor the Coldsword.
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