The Worm Ouroboros by E. R. Eddison (nonfiction book recommendations TXT) 📕

with night’s shades creeping across heaven across their eager expectancy in Krothering. For Mevrian’s messenger returned not. Late to rest went the Lady Mevrian; and with the first peeping light she was abroad, muffled in her great mantle of velvet and swansdown against the eager winds of morning. Up to the battlements she went, and with old Ravnor searched the blank prospect. For pale morning rose on an empty landscape; and so all day until the evening: watching, and waiting, and questioning in their hearts.

So went they at length to supper on this third night after Aurwath field. And ere supper was half done was a stir in the outer courts, and the rattle of the bridge let down, and a clatter of horse-hooves on the bridge and the jasper pavements. Mevrian sate erect and expectant. She nodded to Ravnor who wanting no further sign went hastily out, and returned in an instant hastily and with heavy brow. He spake in her ear, “News, my Lady. It were well you bade him to private audience. Drink this cup first,” pouring out some wine for her.

She rose up, saying to the steward, “Come thou, and bring him with thee.”

As they went he whispered her, “Astar of Rettray, sent by the Lord Zigg with matter of urgent import for your highness’s ear.”

The Lady Mevrian sat in her ivory chair cushioned with rich stuffed silks of Beshtria, with little golden birds and strawberry leaves with the flowers and rich red fruits all figured thereon in gorgeous colours of needlework. She reached out her hand to Astar who stood before her in his battle harness, muddy and bebloodied from head to foot. He bowed and kissed her hand: then stood silent. He held his head high and looked her in the face, but his eyes were bloodshed and his look was ghastly like a messenger of ill.

“Sir,” said Mevrian, “stand not in doubt, but declare all. Thou knowest it is not in our blood to quail under dangers and misfortune.”

Astar said, “Zigg, my brother-in-law, gave me this in charge, madam, to tell thee all truly.”

“Proceed,” said she. “Thou knowest our last news. Hour by hour since then, we watched on victory. I have no mean welcome feast prepared against your coming.”

Astar groaned. “My Lady Mevrian,” said he, “you must now prepare a sword, not a banquet. You did send a runner to Lord Spitfire.”

“Ay,” said she.

“He brought us advertisement that night,” said Astar, “of Gaslark’s overthrow. Alas, that Goblinland was a day too soon, and so bare alone the brunt. Yet was vengeance ready to our hand, as we supposed. For every pass and way was guarded, and ours the greater force. So for that night we waited, seeing Corinius’s fires alight in his camp on Krothering Side, meaning to smite him at dawn of day. Now in the night were mists abroad, and the moon early sunken. And true it is as ill it is, that the whole Witchland army marched away past us in the dark.”

“What?” cried Mevrian, “and slept ye all to let them by?”

“In the middle night,” answered he, “we had sure tidings he was afoot, and the fires yet burning in his camp a show to mock us withal. By all sure signs, we might know he was broke forth northwestward, where he must take the upper road into Mealand over Brocksty Hause. Zigg with seven hundred horse galloped to Heathby to head him off, whiles our main force fared their swiftest up Little Ravendale. Thou seest, madam, Corinius must march along the bow and we along the bowstring.”

“Yes,” said Mevrian. “Ye had but to check him with the horse at Heathby, and he must fight or fall back toward Justdale where he was like to lose half his folk in Memmery Moss. Outlanders shall scarce find a firm way there in a dark night.”

“Certain it is we should have had him,” said Astar. “Yet certain it is he doubled like a hare and fooled us all to the top of our bent: turned in his tracks, as later we concluded, somewhere by Goosesand, and with all his army slipped back eastward under our rear. And that was the wonderfullest feat heard tell of in all chronicles of war.”

“Tush, noble Astar,” said Mevrian. “Labour not Witchland’s praises, nor imagine not I’ll deem less of Spitfire’s nor Zigg’s generalship because Corinius, by art or fortune’s favour, dodged ’em in the dark.”

“Dear Lady,” said he, “even look for the worst and prepare yourself for the same.”

Her gray eyes steadily beheld him. “Certain intelligence,” said he, “was brought us of their faring with all speed they might eastaway past Switchwater; and ere the sun looked well over Gemsar Edge we were hot on the track of them, knowing our force the stronger and our only hope to bring them to battle ere they reached the Stile, where they have made a fortress of great strength we might scarce hope to howster them out from if they should win thither.”

He paused. “Well,” said she.

“Madam,” he said, “that we of Demonland are great and invincible in war, ’tis most certain. But in these days fight we as a man that fighteth hobbled, or with half his gear laid by, or as a man half roused from sleep. For we be reft of our greatest. Bereft of these, such sorrows befall us and such doom as at Thremnir’s Heugh last autumn shattered our strength in pieces, and now this very day yet more terribly hath put us down on Switchwater Way.”

Mevrian’s cheek turned white, but she said no word, waiting.

“We were eager in the chase,” said Astar. “I have told thee why, madam. Thou knowest how near to the mountains runneth the road past Switchwater, and the shores of the lake hem in the way for miles against the mountain spurs, and woods clothe the lower slopes, and dells and gorges run up betwixt the spurs into the mountain side. The day was misty, and