Chapter 15

Swaylone’s Island

27 min

When he awoke, the day was not so bright, and he guessed it was late afternoon. Polecrab and his wife were both on their feet, and another meal of fish had been cooked and was waiting for him.

When he woke up, the day was less bright, and he guessed it was late afternoon. Polecrab and his wife were both up. They had cooked another meal of fish, which was waiting for him.

“Is it decided who is to go with me?” he asked, before sitting down.

“Has it been decided who will go with me?” he asked before sitting down.

“I go,” said Gleameil.

“I’m going,” said Gleameil.

“Do you agree, Polecrab?”

The fisherman growled a little in his throat and motioned to the others to take their seats. He took a mouthful before answering.

The fisherman gave a low growl and motioned for the others to sit down. He took a mouthful before answering.

“Something strong is attracting her, and I can’t hold her back. I don’t think I shall see you again, wife, but the lads are now nearly old enough to fend for themselves.”

“Something strong is pulling her, and I can’t hold her back. I don’t think I’ll see you again, wife. But the boys are nearly old enough to take care of themselves.”

“Don’t take dejected views,” replied Gleameil sternly. She was not eating. “I shall come back, and make amends to you. It’s only for a night.”

“Don’t be so discouraged,” Gleameil replied sternly. She was not eating. “I’ll come back and make it up to you. It’s only for one night.”

Maskull gazed from one to the other in perplexity. “Let me go alone. I would be sorry if anything happened.”

Maskull looked from one to the other, confused. “Let me go alone. I would be sorry if anything happened.”

Gleameil shook her head.

“Don’t regard this as a woman’s caprice,” she said. “Even if you hadn’t passed this way, I would have heard that music soon. I have a hunger for it.”

“Don’t think this is just a woman’s whim,” she said. “Even if you hadn’t come this way, I would have heard that music soon. I long for it.”

“Haven’t you any such feeling, Polecrab?”

“Don’t you feel anything like that, Polecrab?”

“No. A woman is a noble and sensitive creature, and there are attractions in nature too subtle for males. Take her with you, since she is set on it. Maybe she’s right. Perhaps Earthrid’s music will answer your questions, and hers too.”

“No. A woman is a noble and sensitive creature, and some attractions in nature are too subtle for men. Take her with you, since she’s determined to go. Maybe she’s right. Perhaps Earthrid’s music will answer your questions and hers too.”

“What are your questions, Gleameil?”

The woman shed a strange smile. “You may be sure that a question which requires music for an answer can’t be put into words.”

The woman gave a strange smile. “You can be sure that a question that needs music for an answer can’t be put into words.”

“If you are not back by the morning,” remarked her husband, “I will know you are dead.”

“If you’re not back by morning,” her husband said, “I’ll know you’re dead.”

The meal was finished in a constrained silence. Polecrab wiped his mouth, and produced a seashell from a kind of pocket.

They finished the meal in uncomfortable silence. Polecrab wiped his mouth and took a seashell from something like a pocket.

“Will you say goodbye to the boys? Shall I call them?” She considered a moment.

“Will you say goodbye to the boys? Should I call them?” She thought for a moment.

“Yes—yes, I must see them.”

“Yes, yes, I must see them.”

He put the shell to his mouth, and blew; a loud, mournful noise passed through the air.

He put the shell to his mouth and blew. A loud, mournful sound carried through the air.

A few minutes later there was a sound of scurrying footsteps, and the boys were seen emerging from the forest. Maskull looked with curiosity at the first children he had seen on Tormance. The oldest boy was carrying the youngest on his back, while the third trotted some distance behind. The child was let down, and all the three formed a semicircle in front of Maskull, standing staring up at him with wide-open eyes. Polecrab looked on stolidly, but Gleameil glanced away from them, with proudly raised head and a baffling expression.

A few minutes later, there was a sound of scurrying footsteps, and the boys emerged from the forest. Maskull looked curiously at the first children he had seen on Tormance. The oldest boy carried the youngest on his back, while the third trotted some distance behind. The youngest was put down, and all three formed a semicircle in front of Maskull. They stood staring up at him with wide eyes. Polecrab watched without showing any emotion, but Gleameil looked away from them. She held her head high, with a puzzling expression.

Maskull put the ages of the boys at about nine, seven, and five years, respectively; but he was calculating according to Earth time. The eldest was tall, slim, but strongly built. He, like his brothers, was naked, and his skin from top to toe was ulfire-colored. His facial muscles indicated a wild and daring nature, and his eyes were like green fires. The second showed promise of being a broad, powerful man. His head was large and heavy, and drooped. His face and skin were reddish. His eyes were almost too sombre and penetrating for a child’s.

Maskull guessed that the boys were about nine, seven, and five years old, respectively. But he was reckoning by Earth time. The eldest was tall and slim, but strongly built. Like his brothers, he was naked, and his skin was ulfire-colored from head to toe. His facial muscles suggested a wild and daring nature, and his eyes were like green fires. The second boy showed signs of growing into a broad, powerful man. His head was large and heavy, and it drooped. His face and skin were reddish. His eyes were almost too somber and penetrating for a child’s.

“That one,” said Polecrab, pinching the boy’s ear, “may perhaps grow up to be a second Broodviol.”

“That one,” said Polecrab, pinching the boy’s ear, “might grow up to be another Broodviol.”

“Who was that?” demanded the boy, bending his head forward to hear the answer.

“Who was that?” the boy demanded, leaning forward to hear the answer.

“A big, old man, of marvellous wisdom. He became wise by making up his mind never to ask questions, but to find things out for himself.”

“A big, old man of extraordinary wisdom. He became wise by deciding never to ask questions, but to find things out for himself.”

“If I had not asked this question, I should not have known about him.”

“If I hadn't asked this question, I wouldn't have known about him.”

“That would not have mattered,” replied the father.

“That wouldn’t have mattered,” the father said.

The youngest child was paler and slighter than his brothers. His face was mostly tranquil and expressionless, but it had this peculiarity about it, that every few minutes, without any apparent cause, it would wrinkle up and look perplexed. At these times his eyes, which were of a tawny gold, seemed to contain secrets difficult to associate with one of his age.

The youngest child was paler and thinner than his brothers. His face was mostly calm and expressionless, but it had one unusual feature. Every few minutes, for no apparent reason, it would wrinkle up and look puzzled. At these times, his golden-brown eyes seemed to hold secrets hard to associate with someone his age.

“He puzzles me,” said Polecrab. “He has a soul like sap, and he’s interested in nothing. He may turn out to be the most remarkable of the bunch.”

Maskull took the child in one hand, and lifted him as high as his head. He took a good look at him, and set him down again. The boy never changed countenance.

Maskull picked up the child in one hand and lifted him to head height. He looked at him closely, then set him down again. The boy’s expression never changed.

“What do you make of him?” asked the fisherman.

“What do you think of him?” asked the fisherman.

“It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, but it just escapes me. Let me drink again, and then I shall have it.”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t quite remember it. Let me drink again, and then I’ll remember.”

“Go and drink, then.”

Maskull strode over to the tree, drank, and returned. “In ages to come,” he said, speaking deliberately, “he will be a grand and awful tradition. A seer possibly, or even a divinity. Watch over him well.”

Maskull walked over to the tree, drank, and returned. “In ages to come,” he said deliberately, “he will become a great and terrifying legend. Perhaps a prophet, or even a god. Watch over him well.”

The eldest boy looked scornful. “I want to be none of those things. I would like to be like that big fellow.” And he pointed his finger at Maskull.

The oldest boy looked scornful. “I don't want to be any of those things. I want to be like that big man.” He pointed at Maskull.

He laughed, and showed his white teeth through his beard. “Thanks for the compliments old warrior!” he said.

He laughed, showing his white teeth through his beard. “Thanks for the compliments, old warrior!” he said.

“He’s great and brawny,” continued the boy, “and can hold his own with other men. Can you hold me up with one arm, as you did that child?”

“He’s big and strong,” the boy continued, “and can hold his own against other men. Can you hold me up with one arm, like you did that child?”

Maskull complied.

Maskull did as he was told.

“That is being a man!” exclaimed the boy. “Enough!” said Polecrab impatiently. “I called you lads here to say goodbye to your mother. She is going away with this man. I think she may not return, but we don’t know.”

“That’s what it means to be a man!” exclaimed the boy. “Enough!” said Polecrab impatiently. “I called you boys here to say goodbye to your mother. She is leaving with this man. I think she may not come back, but we don’t know.”

The second boy’s face became suddenly inflamed. “Is she going of her own choice?” he inquired.

The second boy’s face suddenly flushed. “Is she going by her own choice?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied the father.

“Yes,” said the father.

“Then she is bad.” He brought the words out with such force and emphasis that they sounded like the crack of a whip.

“Then she is bad.” He spoke with such force and emphasis that his words sounded like the crack of a whip.

The old man cuffed him twice. “Is it your mother you are speaking of?”

The old man slapped him twice. “Are you talking about your mother?”

The boy stood his ground, without change of expression, but said nothing.

The boy stood his ground, his expression unchanged, but said nothing.

The youngest child spoke, for the first time. “My mother will not come back, but she will die dancing.”

The youngest child spoke for the first time. “My mother won't come back, but she will die dancing.”

Polecrab and his wife looked at one another.

Polecrab and his wife looked at each other.

“Where are you going to, Mother?” asked the eldest lad.

“Where are you going, Mother?” asked the oldest boy.

Gleameil bent down, and kissed him. “To the Island.”

Gleameil bent down and kissed him. “To the Island.”

“Well then, if you don’t come back by tomorrow morning, I will go and look for you.”

“Well then, if you don’t come back by tomorrow morning, I’ll go look for you.”

Maskull grew more and more uneasy in his mind. “This seems to me to be a man’s journey,” he said. “I think it would be better for you not to come, Gleameil.”

Maskull grew increasingly uneasy. “This seems like a journey for a man,” he said. “I think it would be better if you didn’t come, Gleameil.”

“I am not to be dissuaded,” she replied.

“I won't be persuaded otherwise,” she replied.

He stroked his beard in perplexity. “Is it time to start?”

He stroked his beard, puzzled. “Is it time to start?”

“It wants four hours to sunset, and we shall need all that.”

“There are four hours until sunset, and we’ll need all of them.”

Maskull sighed. “I’ll go to the mouth of the creek, and wait there for you and the raft. You will wish to make your farewells, Gleameil.”

Maskull sighed. “I’ll go to the mouth of the creek and wait there for you and the raft. You’ll want to say goodbye, Gleameil.”

He then clasped Polecrab by the hand. “Adieu, fisherman!”

He then shook Polecrab's hand. “Goodbye, fisherman!”

“You have repaid me well for my answers,” said the old man gruffly. “But it’s not your fault, and in Shaping’s world the worst things happen.”

“You’ve paid me back well for my answers,” said the old man gruffly. “But it’s not your fault. In Shaping’s world, the worst things happen.”

The eldest boy came close to Maskull, and frowned at him. “Farewell, big man!” he said. “But guard my mother well, as well as you are well able to, or I shall follow you, and kill you.”

The oldest boy came up to Maskull and frowned at him. “Goodbye, big man!” he said. “But protect my mother as well as you can, or I will follow you and kill you.”

Maskull walked slowly along the creek bank till he came to the bend. The glorious sunshine, and the sparkling, brilliant sea then met his eyes again; and all melancholy was swept out of his mind. He continued as far as the seashore, and issuing out of the shadows of the forest, strolled on to the sands, and sat down in the full sunlight. The radiance of Alppain had long since disappeared. He drank in the hot, invigorating wind, listened to the hissing waves, and stared over the coloured sea with its pinnacles and currents, at Swaylone’s Island.

Maskull walked slowly along the creek bank until he reached the bend. There he saw the glorious sunshine and the sparkling, brilliant sea again, and all his sadness vanished. He continued to the shore, leaving the shadows of the forest. He strolled onto the sand and sat down in the full sunlight. Alppain’s radiance had disappeared long ago. He breathed in the hot, invigorating wind and listened to the hissing waves. He gazed across the colored sea, with its pinnacles and currents, toward Swaylone’s Island.

“What music can that be, which tears a wife and mother away from all she loves the most?” he meditated. “It sounds unholy. Will it tell me what I want to know? Can it?”

“What kind of music could tear a wife and mother away from everyone she loves most?” he thought. “It sounds unholy. Will it tell me what I want to know? Can it?”

In a little while he became aware of a movement behind him, and, turning his head, he saw the raft floating along the creek, toward the open sea. Polecrab was standing upright, propelling it with a rude pole. He passed by Maskull, without looking at him, or making any salutation, and proceeded out to sea.

Soon he noticed movement behind him and turned his head. He saw the raft floating along the creek toward the open sea. Polecrab stood upright, pushing it along with a crude pole. He passed Maskull without looking at him or greeting him, and continued out to sea.

While he was wondering at this strange behaviour, Gleameil and the boys came in sight, walking along the bank of the inlet. The eldest-born was holding her hand, and talking; and the other two were behind. She was calm and smiling, but seemed abstracted.

As he wondered about this strange behavior, Gleameil and the boys came into view, walking along the shore of the inlet. The eldest boy was holding her hand and talking. The other two walked behind them. She was calm and smiling, but seemed distracted.

“What is your husband doing with the raft?” asked Maskull.

“He’s putting it in position and we shall wade out and join it,” she answered, in her low-toned voice.

“He’s putting it in position, and we’ll wade out and join it,” she answered in a low voice.

“But how shall we make the island, without oars or sails?”

“But how can we reach the island without oars or sails?”

“Don’t you see that current running away from land? See, he is approaching it. That will take us straight there.”

“Don’t you see that current flowing away from land? Look, he’s approaching it. The current will take us straight there.”

“But how can you get back?”

“There is a way; but we need not think of that today.”

“There is a way, but we don't need to think about it today.”

“Why shouldn’t I come too?” demanded the eldest boy.

“Because the raft won’t carry three. Maskull is a heavy man.”

“Because the raft can’t carry three people. Maskull is a heavy man.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said the boy. “I know where there is wood for another raft. As soon as you have gone, I shall set to work.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said the boy. “I know where to find wood for another raft. As soon as you leave, I’ll start working on it.”

Polecrab had by this time manoeuvred his flimsy craft to the position he desired, within a few yards of the current, which at that point made a sharp bend from the east. He shouted out some words to his wife and Maskull. Gleameil kissed her children convulsively, and broke down a little. The eldest boy bit his lip till it bled, and tears glistened in his eyes; but the younger children stared wide-eyed, and displayed no emotion.

By now, Polecrab had maneuvered his flimsy boat into the position he wanted, within a few yards of the current. At that point, the current made a sharp turn from the east. He shouted a few words to his wife and Maskull. Gleameil kissed her children convulsively and briefly broke down. The eldest boy bit his lip until it bled, and tears glistened in his eyes. But the younger children stared wide-eyed and showed no emotion.

Gleameil now walked into the sea, followed by Maskull. The water covered first their ankles, then their knees, but when it came as high as their waists, they were close on the raft. Polecrab let himself down into the water, and assisted his wife to climb over the side. When she was up, she bent down and kissed him. No words were exchanged. Maskull scrambled up on to the front part of the raft. The woman sat cross-legged in the stern, and seized the pole.

Gleameil walked into the sea, followed by Maskull. The water covered their ankles, then their knees. By the time it reached their waists, they were close to the raft. Polecrab lowered himself into the water and helped his wife climb aboard. Once she was on the raft, she bent down and kissed him. Neither of them spoke. Maskull scrambled onto the front of the raft. The woman sat cross-legged at the back and grabbed the pole.

Polecrab shoved them off toward the current, while she worked her pole until they had got within its power. The raft immediately began to travel swiftly away from land, with a smooth, swaying motion.

Polecrab pushed them toward the current while she worked her pole until they reached it. The raft immediately began moving swiftly away from land, with a smooth, swaying motion.

The boys waved from the shore. Gleameil responded; but Maskull turned his back squarely to land, and gazed ahead. Polecrab was wading back to the shore.

The boys waved from the shore. Gleameil waved back. But Maskull turned his back to the shore and looked straight ahead. Polecrab was wading back to the shore.

For upward of an hour Maskull did not change his position by an inch. No sound was heard but the splashing of the strange waves all around them, and the streamlike gurgle of the current, which threaded its way smoothly through the tossing, tumultuous sea. From their pathway of safety, the beautiful dangers surrounding them were an exhilarating experience. The air was fresh and clean, and the heat from Branchspell, now low in the west, was at last endurable. The riot of sea colors had long since banished all sadness and anxiety from his heart. Yet he felt such a grudge against the woman for selfishly forsaking those who should have been dear to her that he could not bring himself to begin a conversation.

For more than an hour, Maskull did not move an inch. The only sounds were the strange waves splashing around them and the streamlike gurgle of the current. It flowed smoothly through the tossing, turbulent sea. Safe on the current, they found the beautiful dangers around them exhilarating. The air was fresh and clean. Branchspell was now low in the west, and its heat was finally bearable. The riot of colors in the sea had long since driven all sadness and anxiety from Maskull’s heart. Yet he still resented the woman for selfishly abandoning those who should have been dear to her. He resented her so much that he could not bring himself to start a conversation.

But when, over the now enlarged shape of the dark island, he caught sight of a long chain of lofty, distant mountains, glowing salmon-pink in the evening sunlight, he felt constrained to break the silence by inquiring what they were.

But beyond the dark island, which now looked larger, he saw a long chain of distant, towering mountains. They glowed salmon-pink in the evening sunlight. He felt compelled to break the silence and ask what they were.

“It is Lichstorm,” said Gleameil.

“It’s Lichstorm,” said Gleameil.

Maskull asked no questions about it; but in turning to address her, his eyes had rested on the rapidly receding Wombflash Forest, and he continued to stare at that. They had travelled about eight miles, and now he could better estimate the enormous height of the trees. Overtopping them, far away, he saw Sant; and he fancied, but was not quite sure, that he could distinguish Disscourn as well.

Maskull asked no questions about it. But as he turned to speak to her, his eyes fell on Wombflash Forest, which was rapidly receding. He continued to stare at it. They had traveled about eight miles, and now he could better judge the enormous height of the trees. Far away, he saw Sant rising above them. He thought he could make out Disscourn too, but he wasn't quite sure.

“Now that we are alone in a strange place,” said Gleameil, averting her head, and looking down over the side of the raft into the water, “tell me what you thought of Polecrab.”

“Now that we are alone in a strange place,” said Gleameil, turning her head and looking down into the water beside the raft, “tell me what you thought of Polecrab.”

Maskull paused before answering. “He seemed to me like a mountain wrapped in cloud. You see the lower buttresses, and think that is all. But then, high up, far above the clouds, you suddenly catch sight of more mountain—and even then it is not the top.”

Maskull paused before answering. “He seemed to me like a mountain wrapped in clouds. You see the lower slopes and think that is all. But then, high above the clouds, you suddenly see more of the mountain. And even then, you still can’t see the top.”

“You read character well, and have great perception,” remarked Gleameil quietly. “Now say what I am.”

“You judge character well, and you’re very perceptive,” Gleameil said quietly. “Now tell me what I am.”

“In place of a human heart, you have a wild harp, and that’s all I know about you.”

“Instead of a human heart, you have a wild harp, and that’s all I know about you.”

“What was that you said to my husband about two worlds?”

“What did you say to my husband about two worlds?”

“You heard.”

“Yes, I heard. And I also am conscious of two worlds. My husband and boys are real to me, and I love them fondly. But there is another world for me, as there is for you, Maskull, and it makes my real world appear all false and vulgar.”

“Yes, I heard. I’m aware of two worlds too. My husband and boys are real to me, and I love them dearly. But there is another world for me, just as there is for you, Maskull. And this other world makes my real world seem completely false and vulgar.”

“Perhaps we are seeking the same thing. But can it be right to satisfy our self-nature at the expense of other people?”

“Perhaps we are looking for the same thing. But is it right to satisfy our own desires at other people’s expense?”

“No, it’s not right. It is wrong, and base. But in that other world these words have no meaning.”

“No, it’s not right. It’s wrong and dishonorable. But in that other world, these words have no meaning.”

There was a silence.

“It’s useless to discuss such topics,” said Maskull. “The choice is now out of our hands, and we must go where we are taken. What I would rather speak about is what awaits us on the island.”

“There’s no point discussing such things,” said Maskull. “The choice is no longer ours, and we must go wherever we’re taken. I’d rather talk about what awaits us on the island.”

“I am ignorant—except that we shall find Earthrid there.”

“I don't know, except that we'll find Earthrid there.”

“Who is Earthrid, and why is it called Swaylone’s Island?”

“They say Earthrid came from Threal, but I know nothing else about him. As for Swaylone, if you like I will tell you his legend.”

“They say Earthrid came from Threal, but I don't know anything else about him. As for Swaylone, I can tell you his legend if you like.”

“If you please,” said Maskull.

“Please,” said Maskull.

“In a far-back age,” began Gleameil, “when the seas were hot, and clouds hung heavily over the earth, and life was rich with transformations, Swaylone came to this island, on which men had never before set foot, and began to play his music—the first music in Tormance. Nightly, when the moon shone, people used to gather on this shore behind us, and listen to the faint, sweet strains floating from over the sea. One night, Shaping (whom you call Crystalman) was passing this way in company with Krag. They listened a while to the music, and Shaping said ‘Have you heard more beautiful sounds? This is my world and my music.’ Krag stamped with his foot, and laughed. ‘You must do better than that, if I am to admire it. Let us pass over, and see this bungler at work.’ Shaping consented, and they passed over to the island. Swaylone was not able to see their presence. Shaping stood behind him, and breathed thoughts into his soul, so that his music became ten times lovelier, and people listening on that shore went mad with sick delight. ‘Can any strains be nobler?’ demanded Shaping. Krag grinned and said, ‘You are naturally effeminate. Now let me try.’ Then he stood behind Swaylone, and shot ugly discords fast into his head. His instrument was so cracked, that never since has it played right. From that time forth Swaylone could utter only distorted music; yet it called to folk more than the other sort. Many men crossed over to the island during his lifetime, to listen to the amazing tones, but none could endure them; all died. After Swaylone’s death, another musician took up the tale; and so the light has passed down from torch to torch, till now Earthrid bears it.”

“Long ago,” began Gleameil, “when the seas were hot, clouds hung heavily over the earth, and life took many forms, Swaylone came to this island. No man had ever set foot here before. He began to play his music, the first music in Tormance. Every moonlit night, people gathered on the shore behind us. They listened to the faint, sweet music floating across the sea. “One night, Shaping was passing this way with Krag. You call Shaping Crystalman. They listened to the music for a while. Then Shaping said, ‘Have you heard more beautiful sounds? This is my world and my music.’ “Krag stamped his foot and laughed. ‘You must do better than that if I am to admire it. Let us cross over and see this bungler at work.’ “Shaping agreed, and they crossed to the island. Swaylone could not see them. Shaping stood behind him and breathed thoughts into his soul. Swaylone’s music became ten times more beautiful, and the people listening on the shore went mad with sick delight. “‘Could any music be nobler?’ demanded Shaping. “Krag grinned and said, ‘You are naturally effeminate. Now let me try.’ He stood behind Swaylone and rapidly shot ugly discords into his head. Swaylone’s instrument was so badly cracked that it has never played properly since. “From then on, Swaylone could play only distorted music. Yet it drew people more than the other kind. Many men crossed to the island during his lifetime to hear the astonishing music. But none could endure it. All died. After Swaylone died, another musician carried on. So the light has passed from torch to torch, until now Earthrid carries it.”

“An interesting legend,” commented Maskull. “But who is Krag?”

“An interesting legend,” said Maskull. “But who is Krag?”

“They say that when the world was born, Krag was born with it—a spirit compounded of those vestiges of Muspel which Shaping did not know how to transform. Thereafter nothing has gone right with the world, for he dogs Shaping’s footsteps everywhere, and whatever the latter does, he undoes. To love he joins death; to sex, shame; to intellect, madness; to virtue, cruelty; and to fair exteriors, bloody entrails. These are Krag’s actions, so the lovers of the world call him ‘devil.’ They don’t understand, Maskull, that without him the world would lose its beauty.”

“They say Krag was born when the world was born. He was a spirit made from the remnants of Muspel that Shaping did not know how to transform. Ever since, nothing has gone right with the world. Krag follows Shaping everywhere, undoing whatever Shaping does. He joins love with death, sex with shame, intellect with madness, virtue with cruelty, and beautiful appearances with bloody insides. Because of these acts, lovers of the world call Krag ‘devil.’ They don’t understand, Maskull, that without him the world would lose its beauty.”

“Krag and beauty!” exclaimed he, with a cynical smile.

“Krag and beauty!” he exclaimed with a cynical smile.

“Even so. That same beauty which you and I are now voyaging to discover. That beauty for whose sake I am renouncing husband, children, and happiness.... Did you imagine beauty to be pleasant?”

“Yes. The same beauty you and I are traveling to discover. The beauty for which I am giving up my husband, children, and happiness.... Did you think beauty was pleasant?”

“Surely.”

“Of course.”

“That pleasant beauty is an insipid compound of Shaping. To see beauty in its terrible purity, you must tear away the pleasure from it.”

“That pleasant beauty is a bland mixture of Shaping. To see beauty in its terrible purity, you must strip away the pleasure.”

“Do you say I am going to seek beauty, Gleameil? Such an idea is far from my mind.”

“Are you saying I’m going to look for beauty, Gleameil? Nothing could be further from my mind.”

She did not respond to his remark. After waiting for a few minutes, to hear if she would speak again, he turned his back on her once more. There was no more talk until they reached the island.

She did not answer his remark. He waited a few minutes to see if she would speak again, then turned his back on her once more. They did not speak again until they reached the island.

The air had grown chill and damp by the time they approached its shores. Branchspell was on the point of touching the sea. The Island appeared to be some three or four miles in length. There were first of all broad sands, then low, dark cliffs, and behind these a wilderness of insignificant, swelling hills, entirely devoid of vegetation. The current bore them to within a hundred yards of the coast, when it made a sharp angle, and proceeded to skirt the length of the land.

The air had grown cold and damp by the time they approached the Island’s shores. Branchspell was just about to touch the sea. The Island appeared to be about three or four miles long. Broad stretches of sand lay before low, dark cliffs. Behind the cliffs was a wilderness of small, rounded hills, entirely bare of vegetation. The current carried them to within a hundred yards of the coast. Then it turned sharply and continued along the length of the shore.

Gleameil jumped overboard, and began swimming to shore. Maskull followed her example, and the raft, abandoned, was rapidly borne away by the current. They soon touched ground, and were able to wade the rest of the way. By the time they reached dry land, the sun had set.

Gleameil jumped overboard and began swimming to shore. Maskull followed her, and the abandoned raft was quickly carried away by the current. They soon reached shallow water and could wade the rest of the way. By the time they reached dry land, the sun had set.

Gleameil made straight for the hills; and Maskull, after casting a single glance at the low, dim outline of the Wombflash Forest, followed her. The cliffs were soon scrambled up. Then the ascent was gentle and easy, while the rich, dry, brown mould was good to walk upon.

Gleameil headed straight for the hills. Maskull glanced once at the low, dim outline of the Wombflash Forest, then followed her. They soon scrambled up the cliffs. After that, the climb was gentle and easy, and the rich, dry, brown soil was pleasant to walk on.

A little way off, on their left, something white was shining.

A short distance away, to their left, something white was shining.

“You need not go to it,” said the woman. “It can be nothing else than one of those skeletons Polecrab talked about. And look—there is another one over there!”

“You don't have to go to it,” said the woman. “It has to be one of those skeletons Polecrab talked about. And look, there's another one over there!”

“This brings it home!” remarked Maskull, smiling.

“This really makes it clear!” said Maskull, smiling.

“There is nothing comical in having died for beauty,” said Gleameil, bending her brows at him.

“There’s nothing funny about having died for beauty,” said Gleameil, frowning at him.

And when in the course of their walk he saw the innumerable human bones, from gleaming white to dirty yellow, lying scattered about, as if it were a naked graveyard among the hills, he agreed with her, and fell into a sombre mood.

During their walk, he saw countless human bones scattered among the hills, ranging from gleaming white to dirty yellow. It was as if the hills were a bare graveyard. He agreed with her and fell into a somber mood.

It was still light when they reached the highest point, and could set eyes on the other side. The sea to the north of the island was in no way different from that which they had crossed, but its lively colors were fast becoming invisible.

It was still light when they reached the highest point and could see the other side. The sea north of the island was no different from the sea they had crossed, but its vivid colors were quickly fading from view.

“That is Matterplay,” said the woman, pointing her finger toward some low land on the horizon, which seemed to be even farther off than Wombflash.

“That is Matterplay,” said the woman, pointing toward some low land on the horizon. It seemed even farther away than Wombflash.

“I wonder how Digrung passed over,” meditated Maskull.

“I wonder how Digrung crossed over,” Maskull thought.

Not far away, in a hollow enclosed by a circle of little hills, they saw a small, circular lake, not more than half a mile in diameter. The sunset colors of the sky were reflected in its waters.

Not far away, they saw a small, round lake in a hollow surrounded by little hills. The lake was no more than half a mile across. The colors of the sunset were reflected in its waters.

“That must be Irontick,” remarked Gleameil.

“That must be Irontick,” said Gleameil.

“What is that?”

“I have heard that it’s the instrument Earthrid plays on.”

“I’ve heard that’s the instrument Earthrid plays.”

“We are getting close,” responded he. “Let us go and investigate.”

“We’re getting close,” he replied. “Let’s go and investigate.”

When they drew nearer, they observed that a man was reclining on the farther side, in an attitude of sleep.

As they drew closer, they saw a man lying on the far side, as if asleep.

“If that’s not the man himself, who can it be?” said Maskull. “Let’s get across the water, if it will bear us; it will save time.”

“If that’s not the man himself, who could it be?” said Maskull. “Let’s cross the water, if it will hold us. It will save time.”

He now assumed the lead, and took running strides down the slope which bounded the lake on that side. Gleameil followed him with greater dignity, keeping her eyes fixed on the recumbent man as if fascinated. When Maskull reached the water’s edge, he tried it with one foot, to discover if it would carry his weight. Something unusual in its appearance led him to have doubts. It was a tranquil, dark, and beautifully reflecting sheet of water; it resembled a mirror of liquid metal. Finding that it would bear him, and that nothing happened, he placed his second foot on its surface. Instantly he sustained a violent shock throughout his body, as from a powerful electric current; and he was hurled in a tumbled heap back on to the bank.

He took the lead and ran down the slope that bordered the lake on that side. Gleameil followed more calmly, her eyes fixed on the man lying down as if fascinated. When Maskull reached the water’s edge, he tested it with one foot to see if it would hold his weight. Something unusual about the water’s appearance made him doubt it would. It was a calm, dark sheet of water that reflected beautifully, like a mirror of liquid metal. When he found that the water held him and nothing happened, he placed his other foot on its surface. Instantly, a violent shock passed through his body, as if from a powerful electric current. He was hurled back onto the bank in a heap.

He picked himself up, brushed the dirt off his person, and started walking around the lake. Gleameil joined him, and they completed the half circuit together. They came to the man, and Maskull prodded him with his foot. He woke up, and blinked at them.

He got up, brushed the dirt off himself, and started walking around the lake. Gleameil joined him, and they walked halfway around the lake together. They came to the man, and Maskull nudged him with his foot. The man woke up and blinked at them.

His face was pale, weak, and vacant-looking, and had a disagreeable expression. There were thin sprouts of black hair on his chin and head. On his forehead, in place of a third eye, he possessed a perfectly circular organ, with elaborate convolutions, like an ear. He had an unpleasant smell. He appeared to be of young middle age.

His face was pale, weak, and vacant, with an unpleasant expression. Thin tufts of black hair grew on his chin and head. On his forehead, where a third eye would have been, he had a perfectly circular organ. It had intricate folds, like an ear. He smelled unpleasant. He appeared to be in early middle age.

“Wake up, man,” said Maskull sharply, “and tell us if you are Earthrid.”

“Wake up, man,” Maskull said sharply, “and tell us if you are Earthrid.”

“What time is it?” counterquestioned the man. “Does it want long to moonrise?”

“What time is it?” the man asked in return. “How long until moonrise?”

Without appearing to care about an answer, he sat up, and turning away from them, began to scoop up the loose soil with his hand, and to eat it halfheartedly.

Without seeming to care about an answer, he sat up and turned away from them. He began scooping up loose soil with his hand and eating it halfheartedly.

“Now, how can you eat that filth?” demanded Maskull, in disgust.

“How can you eat that filth?” Maskull demanded in disgust.

“Don’t be angry, Maskull,” said Gleameil, laying hold of his arm, and flushing a little. “It is Earthrid—the man who is to help us.”

“Don’t be angry, Maskull,” said Gleameil, taking hold of his arm and blushing slightly. “It’s Earthrid, the man who is going to help us.”

“He has not said so.”

“He hasn't said so.”

“I am Earthrid,” said the other, in his weak and muffled voice, which, however, suddenly struck Maskull as being autocratic. “What do you want here? Or rather, you had better get away as quickly as you can, for it will be too late when Teargeld rises.”

“I am Earthrid,” said the other in a weak, muffled voice. But Maskull was suddenly struck by how commanding it sounded. “What do you want here? Or rather, you should get away as quickly as you can, because it will be too late when Teargeld rises.”

“You need not explain,” exclaimed Maskull. “We know your reputation, and we have come to hear your music. But what’s that organ for on your forehead?”

“You don’t need to explain,” exclaimed Maskull. “We know your reputation, and we’ve come to hear your music. But what’s that organ on your forehead for?”

Earthrid glared, and smiled, and glared again.

Earthrid glared, smiled, and glared again.

“That is for rhythm, which is what changes noise into music. Don’t stand and argue, but go away. It is no pleasure to me to people the island with corpses. They corrupt the air, and do nothing else.”

“That is for rhythm, which turns noise into music. Don’t stand here arguing. Go away. I take no pleasure in filling the island with corpses. They pollute the air and do nothing else.”

Darkness now crept swiftly on over the landscape.

Darkness now crept quickly over the landscape.

“You are rather bigmouthed,” said Maskull coolly. “But after we have heard you play, perhaps I shall adventure a tune myself.”

“You talk a big game,” said Maskull coolly. “But after we hear you play, perhaps I’ll try a tune myself.”

“You? Are you a musician, then? Do you even know what music is?”

A flame danced in Gleameil’s eyes.

“Maskull thinks music reposes in the instrument,” she said in her intense way. “But it is in the soul of the Master.”

“Maskull thinks the music is in the instrument,” she said intensely. “But it is in the soul of the Master.”

“Yes,” said Earthrid, “but that is not all. I will tell you what it is. In Threal, where I was born and brought up, we learn the mystery of the Three in nature. This world, which lies extended before us, has three directions. Length is the line which shuts off what is, from what is not. Breadth is the surface which shows us in what manner one thing of what-is, lives with another thing. Depth is the path which leads from what-is, to our own body. In music it is not otherwise. Tone is existence, without which nothing at all can be. Symmetry and Numbers are the manner in which tones exist, one with another. Emotion is the movement of our soul toward the wonderful world that is being created. Now, men when they make music are accustomed to build beautiful tones, because of the delight they cause. Therefore their music world is based on pleasure; its symmetry is regular and charming, its emotion is sweet and lovely.... But my music is founded on painful tones; and thus its symmetry is wild, and difficult to discover; its emotion is bitter and terrible.”

“Yes,” said Earthrid, “but that is not all. I will tell you what I mean. In Threal, where I was born and raised, we learn the mystery of the Three in nature. This world, spread out before us, has three directions. Length is the line that separates what is from what is not. Breadth is the surface that shows us how one thing that exists lives with another. Depth is the path that leads from what exists to our own body. “It is the same in music. Tone is existence, without which nothing at all can exist. Symmetry and Numbers are the way tones exist with one another. Emotion is the movement of our soul toward the wonderful world being created. Now, when men make music, they usually build beautiful tones because of the delight those tones bring. So their musical world is based on pleasure. Its symmetry is regular and charming, and its emotion is sweet and lovely.... But my music is based on painful tones. So its symmetry is wild and hard to discover, and its emotion is bitter and terrible.”

“If I had not anticipated its being original, I would not have come here,” said Maskull. “Still, explain—why can’t harsh tones have simple symmetry of form? And why must they necessarily cause more profound emotions in us who listen?”

“If I hadn’t expected something original, I wouldn’t have come here,” said Maskull. “But explain. Why can’t harsh tones have simple, symmetrical forms? And why must they necessarily stir deeper emotions in those of us who listen?”

“Pleasures may harmonise. Pains must clash; and in the order of their clashing lies the symmetry. The emotions follow the music, which is rough and earnest.”

“Pleasures may harmonize. Pains must clash, and the order of their clashing creates symmetry. The emotions follow the music, which is rough and earnest.”

“You may call it music,” remarked Maskull thoughtfully, “but to me it bears a closer resemblance to actual life.”

“You may call it music,” Maskull said thoughtfully, “but to me it seems more like real life.”

“If Shaping’s plans had gone straight, life would have been like that other sort of music. He who seeks can find traces of that intention in the world of nature. But as it has turned out, real life resembles my music and mine is the true music.”

“If Shaping’s plans had gone as intended, life would have been like that other kind of music. Anyone who looks can find traces of that intention in nature. But life as it is resembles my music, and mine is the true music.”

“Shall we see living shapes?”

“Will we see living shapes?”

“I don’t know what my mood will be,” returned Earthrid. “But when I have finished, you shall adventure your tune, and produce whatever shapes you please—unless, indeed, the tune is out of your own big body.”

“I don’t know what mood I’ll be in,” Earthrid replied. “But when I’m finished, you can try your tune and produce whatever shapes you like, unless the tune comes from your own big body.”

“The shocks you are preparing may kill us,” said Gleameil, in a low, taut voice, “but we shall die, seeing beauty.”

“The shocks you're preparing may kill us,” Gleameil said in a low, tense voice, “but we will die seeing beauty.”

Earthrid looked at her with a dignified expression.

“Neither you, nor any other person, can endure the thoughts which I put into my music. Still, you must have it your own way. It needed a woman to call it ‘beauty.’ But if this is beauty, what is ugliness?”

“Neither you nor anyone else can bear the thoughts I put into my music. Still, you must have your own way. It took a woman to call it ‘beauty.’ But if this is beauty, what is ugliness?”

“That I can tell you, Master,” replied Gleameil, smiling at him. “Ugliness is old, stale life, while yours every night issues fresh from the womb of nature.”

“I can tell you that, Master,” Gleameil replied, smiling at him. “Ugliness is old, stale life, while yours comes fresh from nature’s womb every night.”

Earthrid stared at her, without response. “Teargeld is rising,” he said at last. “And now you shall see—though not for long.”

Earthrid stared at her without answering. “Teargeld is rising,” he said at last. “And now you will see, though not for long.”

As the words left his mouth, the full moon peeped over the hills in the dark eastern sky. They watched it in silence, and soon it was wholly up. It was larger than the moon of Earth, and seemed nearer. Its shadowy parts stood out in just as strong relief, but somehow it did not give Maskull the impression of being a dead world. Branchspell shone on the whole of it, but Alppain only on a part. The broad crescent that reflected Branchspell’s rays alone was white and brilliant; but the part that was illuminated by both suns shone with a greenish radiance that had almost solar power, and yet was cold and cheerless. On gazing at that combined light, he felt the same sense of disintegration that the afterglow of Alppain had always caused in him; but now the feeling was not physical, but merely aesthetic. The moon did not appear romantic to him, but disturbing and mystical.

As the words left his mouth, the full moon peeked over the hills in the dark eastern sky. They watched in silence as it rose fully into view. It was larger than Earth’s moon and seemed closer. Its shadowy areas stood out just as sharply, but somehow it did not seem like a dead world to Maskull. Branchspell shone on the whole moon, but Alppain shone on only part of it. The broad crescent that reflected only Branchspell’s rays was white and brilliant. But the part lit by both suns glowed green, with almost the power of sunlight. Yet the glow was cold and cheerless. As Maskull gazed at the combined light, he felt the same sense of disintegration that Alppain’s afterglow had always caused him. But this time the feeling was not physical. It was only aesthetic. The moon did not seem romantic to him, but disturbing and mystical.

Earthrid rose, and stood quietly for a minute. In the bright moonlight, his face seemed to have undergone a change. It lost its loose, weak, disagreeable look, and acquired a sort of crafty grandeur. He clapped his hands together meditatively two or three times, and walked up and down. The others stood together, watching him.

Earthrid stood up and remained still for a minute. In the bright moonlight, his face seemed to have changed. Its slack, weak, unpleasant look was gone, replaced by a kind of cunning grandeur. He clapped his hands together thoughtfully two or three times and paced back and forth. The others stood together, watching him.

Then he sat down by the side of the lake, and, leaning on his side, placed his right hand, open palm downward, on the ground, at the same time stretching out his right leg, so that the foot was in contact with the water.

Then he sat down beside the lake and leaned on his side. He placed his right hand on the ground, palm down, while stretching out his right leg until his foot touched the water.

While Maskull was in the act of staring at him and at the lake, he felt a stabbing sensation right through his heart, as though he had been pierced by a rapier. He barely recovered himself from falling, and as he did so he saw that a spout had formed on the water, and was now subsiding again. The next moment he was knocked down by a violent blow in the mouth, delivered by an invisible hand. He picked himself up; and observed that a second spout had formed. No sooner was he on his legs, than a hideous pain hammered away inside his brain, as if caused by a malignant tumour. In his agony, he stumbled and fell again; this time on the arm Krag had wounded. All his other mishaps were forgotten in this one, which half stunned him. It lasted only a moment, and then sudden relief came, and he found that Earthrid’s rough music had lost its power over him.

As Maskull stared at him and the lake, he felt a stabbing pain right through his heart, as if a sword had pierced it. He barely managed to keep from falling. As he steadied himself, he saw that a spout had formed on the water and was subsiding. The next moment, an invisible hand struck him violently in the mouth, knocking him down. He picked himself up and saw that a second spout had formed. As soon as he was on his feet, a hideous pain hammered inside his brain, as if caused by a malignant tumor. In agony, he stumbled and fell again, this time on the arm Krag had wounded. He forgot all his other troubles as the pain in his arm half stunned him. It lasted only a moment, and then he felt sudden relief. He found that Earthrid’s rough music had lost its power over him.

He saw him still stretched in the same position. Spouts were coming thick and fast on the lake, which was full of lively motion. But Gleameil was not on her legs. She was lying on the ground, in a heap, without moving. Her attitude was ugly, and he guessed she was dead. When he reached her, he discovered that she was dead. In what state of mind she had died, he did not know, for her face wore the vulgar Crystalman grin. The whole tragedy had not lasted five minutes.

He saw him still lying in the same position. Spouts rose rapidly from the lake, whose waters were churning. But Gleameil was not standing. She lay motionless in a heap on the ground. Her position was ugly, and he guessed she was dead. When he reached her, he found that she was dead. He did not know what she had felt as she died, for her face wore the vulgar Crystalman grin. The whole tragedy had lasted less than five minutes.

He went over to Earthrid and dragged him forcibly away from his playing.

He went over to Earthrid and dragged him away from his playing.

“You have been as good as your word, musician,” he said. “Gleameil is dead.”

“You kept your word, musician,” he said. “Gleameil is dead.”

Earthrid tried to collect his scattered senses.

Earthrid tried to gather his thoughts.

“I warned her,” he replied, sitting up. “Did I not beg her to go away? But she died very easily. She did not wait for the beauty she spoke about. She heard nothing of the passion, nor even of the rhythm. Neither have you.”

“I warned her,” he replied, sitting up. “Didn't I beg her to go away? But she died very easily. She didn't wait for the beauty she spoke about. She heard nothing of the passion, or even the rhythm. Neither have you.”

Maskull looked down at him in indignation, but said nothing.

Maskull looked down at him angrily, but said nothing.

“You should not have interrupted me,” went on Earthrid. “When I am playing, nothing else is of importance. I might have lost the thread of my ideas. Fortunately, I never forget. I shall start over again.”

“You shouldn't have interrupted me,” Earthrid went on. “When I'm playing, nothing else matters. I could have lost my train of thought. Fortunately, I never forget. I'll start over.”

“If music is to continue, in the presence of the dead, I play next.”

“If the music is to continue in the presence of the dead, I’ll play next.”

The man glanced up quickly.

“That can’t be.”

“It must be,” said Maskull decisively. “I prefer playing to listening. Another reason is that you will have every night, but I have only tonight.”

“It has to be,” said Maskull firmly. “I prefer playing to listening. Also, you have every night, but I only have tonight.”

Earthrid clenched and unclenched his fist, and began to turn pale. “With your recklessness, you are likely to kill us both. Irontick belongs to me, and until you have learned how to play, you would only break the instrument.”

Earthrid clenched and unclenched his fist and began to turn pale. “Your recklessness is likely to kill us both. Irontick belongs to me. Until you learn to play, you would only break the instrument.”

“Well, then, I will break it; but I am going to try.”

“Well, then, I will break it, but I am going to try.”

The musician jumped to his feet and confronted him. “Do you intend to take it from me by violence?”

The musician jumped to his feet and confronted him. “Are you going to take it from me by force?”

“Keep calm! You will have the same choice that you offered us. I shall give you time to go away somewhere.”

“Keep calm! You’ll have the same choice you offered us. I’ll give you time to go away somewhere.”

“How will that serve me, if you spoil my lake? You don’t understand what you are doing.”

“How will that help me if you ruin my lake? You don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“Go, or stay!” responded Maskull. “I give you till the water gets smooth again. After that, I begin playing.”

“Go or stay!” Maskull replied. “I’ll give you until the water is smooth again. Then I’ll start playing.”

Earthrid kept swallowing. He glanced at the lake and back to Maskull.

Earthrid kept swallowing. He glanced at the lake, then back at Maskull.

“Do you swear it?”

“How long that will take, you know better than I; but till then you are safe.”

“You know better than I do how long that will take. But until then, you are safe.”

Earthrid cast him a look of malice, hesitated for an instant, and then moved away, and started to climb the nearest hill. Halfway up he glanced over his shoulder apprehensively, as if to see what was happening. In another minute or so, he had disappeared over the crest, travelling in the direction of the shore that faced Matterplay.

Earthrid gave him a malicious look, hesitated for a moment, then walked away and started climbing the nearest hill. Halfway up, he glanced back nervously, as if to see what was happening. About a minute later, he disappeared over the top, heading toward the shore facing Matterplay.

Later, when the water was once more tranquil, Maskull sat down by its edge, in imitation of Earthrid’s attitude. He knew neither how to set about producing his music, nor what would come of it. But audacious projects entered his brain and he willed to create physical shapes—and, above all, one shape, that of Surtur.

Later, when the water was calm again, Maskull sat down at its edge, copying Earthrid’s posture. He did not know how to make his music or what would come of it. But bold ideas came to him, and he willed himself to create physical shapes, especially the shape of Surtur.

Before putting his foot to the water, he turned things over a little in his mind.

Before putting his foot in the water, he thought things over for a moment.

He said, “What themes are in common music, shapes are in this music. The composer does not find his theme by picking out single notes; but the whole theme flashes into his mind by inspiration. So it must be with shapes. When I start playing, if I am worth anything, the undivided ideas will pass from my unconscious mind to this lake, and then, reflected back in the dimensions of reality, I shall be for the first time made acquainted with them. So it must be.”

He said, “Shapes are to this music what themes are to ordinary music. A composer does not find a theme by picking out individual notes. Instead, the whole theme flashes into the composer’s mind through inspiration. It must be the same with shapes. When I start playing, if I am any good, whole ideas will pass from my unconscious mind to this lake. Then the lake will reflect them back in the dimensions of reality, and I will see them for the first time. It must be so.”

The instant his foot touched the water, he felt his thoughts flowing from him. He did not know what they were, but the mere act of flowing created a sensation of joyful mastery. With this was curiosity to learn what they would prove to be. Spouts formed on the lake in increasing numbers, but he experienced no pain. His thoughts, which he knew to be music, did not issue from him in a steady, unbroken stream, but in great, rough gushes, succeeding intervals of quiescence. When these gushes came, the whole lake broke out in an eruption of spouts.

The moment his foot touched the water, he felt his thoughts flowing out of him. He did not know what they were, but the flow itself gave him a feeling of joyful mastery. He was also curious to discover what his thoughts would turn out to be. More and more spouts formed on the lake, but he felt no pain. He knew his thoughts were music. They did not flow out in a steady, continuous stream, but in great, rough gushes separated by quiet intervals. Whenever a gush came, spouts erupted across the whole lake.

He realised that the ideas passing from him did not arise in his intellect, but had their source in the fathomless depths of his will. He could not decide what character they should have, but he was able to force them out, or retard them, by the exercise of his volition.

He realized that the ideas passing from him did not come from his mind. They came from the bottomless depths of his will. He could not decide what kind of ideas they would be. But he could use his will to force them out or hold them back.

At first nothing changed around him. Then the moon grew dimmer, and a strange, new radiance began to illuminate the landscape. It increased so imperceptibly that it was some time before he recognised it as the Muspel-light which he had seen in the Wombflash Forest. He could not give it a colour, or a name, but it filled him with a sort of stern and sacred awe. He called up the resources of his powerful will. The spouts thickened like a forest, and many of them were twenty feet high. Teargeld looked faint and pale; the radiance became intense; but it cast no shadows. The wind got up, but where Maskull was sitting, it was calm. Shortly afterward it began to shriek and whistle, like a full gale. He saw no shapes, and redoubled his efforts.

At first, nothing changed around him. Then the moon grew dimmer, and a strange new light began to illuminate the landscape. It grew so gradually that he took some time to recognize it. It was the Muspel-light he had seen in the Wombflash Forest. He could give it no color or name, but it filled him with a kind of stern, sacred awe. He summoned all his powerful will. The spouts grew as thick as a forest, and many were twenty feet high. Teargeld looked faint and pale. The light grew intense, but it cast no shadows. The wind picked up, but it was calm where Maskull sat. Soon the wind began to shriek and whistle like a full gale. He saw no shapes, and he redoubled his efforts.

His ideas were now rushing out onto the lake so furiously that his whole soul was possessed by exhilaration and defiance. But still he did not know their nature. A huge spout shot up and at the same moment the hills began to crack and break. Great masses of loose soil were erupted from their bowels, and in the next period of quietness, he saw that the landscape had altered. Still the mysterious light intensified. The moon disappeared entirely. The noise of the unseen tempest was terrifying, but Maskull played heroically on, trying to urge out ideas which would take shape. The hillsides were cleft with chasms. The water escaping from the tops of the spouts, swamped the land; but where he was, it was dry.

His ideas were now rushing out onto the lake so fiercely that his whole soul was filled with exhilaration and defiance. But he still did not know what the ideas were. A huge spout shot up, and at the same moment the hills began to crack and break apart. Great masses of loose soil erupted from deep within them. In the next lull, he saw that the landscape had changed. Still, the mysterious light grew brighter. The moon disappeared completely. The noise of the unseen storm was terrifying, but Maskull played on heroically, trying to bring forth ideas that would take shape. Deep cracks split the hillsides. Water pouring from the tops of the spouts flooded the land, but the ground where he stood was dry.

The radiance grew terrible. It was everywhere, but Maskull fancied that it was far brighter in one particular quarter. He thought that it was becoming localised, preparatory to contracting into a solid form. He strained and strained....

The light grew terrible. It was everywhere, but Maskull thought it was much brighter in one particular area. He thought the light was gathering there, ready to contract into a solid form. He strained and strained....

Immediately afterward the bottom of the lake subsided. Its waters fell through, and his instrument was broken.

Right afterward, the bottom of the lake sank. The water fell through, and his instrument broke.

The Muspel-light vanished. The moon shone out again, but Maskull could not see it. After that unearthly shining, he seemed to himself to be in total blackness. The screaming wind ceased; there was a dead silence. His thoughts finished flowing toward the lake, and his foot no longer touched water, but hung in space.

The Muspel-light vanished. The moon shone again, but Maskull could not see it. After that otherworldly light, he felt as if he were in total darkness. The screaming wind stopped, and all was silent. His thoughts stopped flowing toward the lake, and his foot no longer touched the water. It hung in space.

He was too stunned by the suddenness of the change to either think or feel. While he was still lying dazed, a vast explosion occurred in the newly opened depths beneath the lakebed. The water in its descent had met fire. Maskull was lifted bodily in the air, many yards high, and came down heavily. He lost consciousness....

The change was so sudden that he was too stunned to think or feel. While he lay dazed, a huge explosion erupted in the newly opened depths beneath the lakebed. The falling water had met fire. Maskull was thrown many yards into the air and landed hard. He lost consciousness....

When he came to his senses again, he saw everything. Teargeld was gleaming brilliantly. He was lying by the side of the old lake, but it was now a crater, to the bottom of which his eyes could not penetrate. The hills encircling it were torn, as if by heavy gunfire. A few thunderclouds were floating in the air at no great height, from which branched lightning descended to the earth incessantly, accompanied by alarming and singular crashes.

When he regained consciousness, he could see everything. Teargeld was shining brilliantly. He was lying beside the old lake, but it was now a crater. He could not see its bottom. The hills around it were torn apart, as if by heavy gunfire. A few thunderclouds floated low in the air. Forked lightning flashed constantly from them to the earth, accompanied by alarming and strange crashes.

He got on his legs, and tested his actions. Finding that he was uninjured, he first of all viewed the crater at closer quarters, and then started to walk painfully toward the northern shore.

He got to his feet and tested his movements. Finding himself uninjured, he looked more closely at the crater. Then he began walking painfully toward the northern shore.

When he had attained the crest above the lake, the landscape sloped gently down for two miles to the sea. Everywhere he passed through traces of his rough work. The country was carved into scarps, grooves, channels, and craters. He arrived at the line of low cliffs overlooking the beach, and found that these also were partly broken down by landslips. He got down onto the sand and stood looking over the moonlit, agitated sea, wondering how he could contrive to escape from this island of failure.

When he reached the ridge above the lake, he saw the land slope gently down to the sea two miles away. Everywhere he went, he saw traces of his rough work. The land was scarred with steep slopes, grooves, channels, and craters. He reached the low cliffs overlooking the beach. Landslides had partly broken them down too. He climbed down onto the sand and stood looking out over the rough, moonlit sea. He wondered how he could escape from this island of failure.

Then he saw Earthrid’s body, lying quite close to him. It was on its back. Both legs had been violently torn off and he could not see them anywhere. Earthrid’s teeth were buried in the flesh of his right forearm, indicating that the man had died in unreasoning physical agony. The skin gleamed green in the moonlight, but it was stained by darker discolourations, which were wounds. The sand about him was dyed by the pool of blood which had long since filtered through.

Then he saw Earthrid’s body lying close to him, on its back. Both legs had been violently torn off, and he could not see them anywhere. Earthrid’s teeth were buried in the flesh of his right forearm. This showed that he had died in a state of mindless physical agony. His skin gleamed green in the moonlight, but it was marked by darker patches where he had been wounded. The sand around him was stained by a pool of blood that had long since soaked through.

Maskull left the corpse in dismay, and walked a long way along the sweet-smelling shore. Sitting down on a rock, he waited for daybreak.

Maskull left the body in dismay and walked a long way along the sweet-smelling shore. He sat down on a rock and waited for daybreak.