Chapter 15. SWAYLONE’S ISLAND
When he awoke, the day was not so bright, and he guessed it was lateafternoon. Polecrab and his wife were both on their feet, and anothermeal of fish had been cooked and was waiting for him.
“Is it decided who is to go with me?” he asked, before sitting down.
“I go,” said Gleameil.
“Do you agree, Polecrab?”
The fisherman growled a little in his throat and motioned to the othersto take their seats. He took a mouthful before answering.
“Something strong is attracting her, and I can’t hold her back. I don’tthink I shall see you again, wife, but the lads are now nearly oldenough to fend for themselves.”
“Don’t take dejected views,” replied Gleameil sternly. She was noteating. “I shall come back, and make amends to you. It’s only for anight.”
Maskull gazed from one to the other in perplexity. “Let me go alone. Iwould be sorry if anything happened.”
Gleameil shook her head.
“Don’t regard this as a woman’s caprice,” she said. “Even if you hadn’tpassed this way, I would have heard that music soon. I have a hunger forit.”
“Haven’t you any such feeling, Polecrab?”
“No. A woman is a noble and sensitive creature, and there areattractions in nature too subtle for males. Take her with you, since sheis set on it. Maybe she’s right. Perhaps Earthrid’s music will answeryour questions, and hers too.”
“What are your questions, Gleameil?”
The woman shed a strange smile. “You may be sure that a question whichrequires music for an answer can’t be put into words.”
“If you are not back by the morning,” remarked her husband, “I will knowyou are dead.”
The meal was finished in a constrained silence. Polecrab wiped hismouth, and produced a seashell from a kind of pocket.
“Will you say goodbye to the boys? Shall I call them?” She considered amoment.
“Yes—yes, I must see them.”
He put the shell to his mouth, and blew; a loud, mournful noise passedthrough the air.
A few minutes later there was a sound of scurrying footsteps, and theboys were seen emerging from the forest. Maskull looked with curiosityat the first children he had seen on Tormance. The oldest boy wascarrying the youngest on his back, while the third trotted some distancebehind. The child was let down, and all the three formed a semicircle infront of Maskull, standing staring up at him with wide-open eyes.Polecrab looked on stolidly, but Gleameil glanced away from them, withproudly raised head and a baffling 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 eldestwas tall, slim, but strongly built. He, like his brothers, was naked,and his skin from top to toe was ulfire-colored. His facial musclesindicated a wild and daring nature, and his eyes were like green fires.The second showed promise of being a broad, powerful man. His head waslarge and heavy, and drooped. His face and skin were reddish. His eyeswere almost too sombre and penetrating for a child’s.
“That one,” said Polecrab, pinching the boy’s ear, “may perhaps grow upto be a second Broodviol.”
“Who was that?” demanded the boy, bending his head forward to hear theanswer.
“A big, old man, of marvellous wisdom. He became wise by making up hismind 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.”
“That would not have mattered,” replied the father.
The youngest child was paler and slighter than his brothers. His facewas mostly tranquil and expressionless, but it had this peculiarityabout it, that every few minutes, without any apparent cause, it wouldwrinkle up and look perplexed. At these times his eyes, which were of atawny gold, seemed to contain secrets difficult to associate with one ofhis age.
“He puzzles me,” said Polecrab. “He has a soul like sap, and he’sinterested in nothing. He may turn out to be the most remarkable of thebunch.”
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 neverchanged countenance.
“What do you make of him?” asked the fisherman.
“It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, but it just escapes me. Let medrink again, and then I shall have it.”
“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.”
The eldest boy looked scornful. “I want to be none of those things. Iwould like to be like that big fellow.” And he pointed his finger atMaskull.
He laughed, and showed his white teeth through his beard. “Thanks forthe compliments old warrior!” he said.
“He’s great and brawny,” continued the boy, “and can hold his own withother men. Can you hold me up with one arm, as you did that child?”
Maskull complied.
“That is being a man!” exclaimed the boy. “Enough!” said Polecrabimpatiently. “I called you lads here to say goodbye to your mother. Sheis going away with this man. I think she may not return, but we don’tknow.”
The second boy’s face became suddenly inflamed. “Is she going of her ownchoice?” he inquired.
“Yes,” replied the father.
“Then she is bad.” He brought the words out with such force and emphasisthat they sounded like the crack of a whip.
The old man cuffed him twice. “Is it your mother you are speaking of?”
The boy stood his ground, without change of expression, but saidnothing.
The youngest child spoke, for the first time. “My mother will not comeback, but she will die dancing.”
Polecrab and his wife looked at one another.
“Where are you going to, Mother?” asked the eldest lad.
Gleameil bent down, and kissed him. “To the Island.”
“Well then, if you don’t come back by tomorrow morning, I will go andlook for you.”
Maskull grew more and more uneasy in his mind. “This seems to me to be aman’s journey,” he said. “I think it would be better for you not tocome, Gleameil.”
“I am not to be dissuaded,” she replied.
He stroked his beard in perplexity. “Is it time to start?”
“It wants four hours to sunset, and we shall need all that.”
Maskull sighed. “I’ll go to the mouth of the creek, and wait there foryou and the raft. You will wish to make your farewells, Gleameil.”
He then clasped Polecrab by the hand. “Adieu, fisherman!”
“You have repaid me well for my answers,” said the old man gruffly. “Butit’s not your fault, and in Shaping’s world the worst things happen.”
The eldest boy came close to Maskull, and frowned at him. “Farewell, bigman!” he said. “But guard my mother well, as well as you are well ableto, or I shall follow you, and kill you.”
Maskull walked slowly along the creek bank till he came to the bend. Theglorious sunshine, and the sparkling, brilliant sea then met his eyesagain; and all melancholy was swept out of his mind. He continued as faras the seashore, and issuing out of the shadows of the forest, strolledon to the sands, and sat down in the full sunlight. The radiance ofAlppain had long since disappeared. He drank in the hot, invigoratingwind, listened to the hissing waves, and stared over the coloured seawith its pinnacles and currents, at Swaylone’s Island.
“What music can that be, which tears a wife and mother away from all sheloves the most?” he meditated. “It sounds unholy. Will it tell me what Iwant to know? Can it?”
In a little while he became aware of a movement behind him, and, turninghis head, he saw the raft floating along the creek, toward the open sea.Polecrab was standing upright, propelling it with a rude pole. He passedby Maskull, without l
ooking at him, or making any salutation, andproceeded out to sea.
While he was wondering at this strange behaviour, Gleameil and the boyscame in sight, walking along the bank of the inlet. The eldest-born washolding her hand, and talking; and the other two were behind. She wascalm and smiling, but seemed abstracted.
“What is your husband doing with the raft?” asked Maskull.
“He’s putting it in position and we shall wade out and join it,” sheanswered, in her low-toned voice.
“But how shall we make the island, without oars or sails?”
“Don’t you see that current running away from land? See, he isapproaching it. That will take us straight there.”
“But how can you get back?”
“There is a way; but we need not think of that today.”
“Why shouldn’t I come too?” demanded the eldest boy.
“Because the raft won’t carry three. Maskull is a heavy man.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said the boy. “I know where there is wood foranother raft. As soon as you have gone, I shall set to work.”
Polecrab had by this time manoeuvred his flimsy craft to the position hedesired, within a few yards of the current, which at that point made asharp bend from the east. He shouted out some words to his wife andMaskull. Gleameil kissed her children convulsively, and broke down alittle. The eldest boy bit his lip till it bled, and tears glistened inhis eyes; but the younger children stared wide-eyed, and displayed noemotion.
Gleameil now walked into the sea, followed by Maskull. The water coveredfirst their ankles, then their knees, but when it came as high as theirwaists, they were close on the raft. Polecrab let himself down into thewater, and assisted his wife to climb over the side. When she was up,she bent down and kissed him. No words were exchanged. Maskull scrambledup on to the front part of the raft. The woman sat cross-legged in thestern, and seized the pole.
Polecrab shoved them off toward the current, while she worked her poleuntil they had got within its power. The raft immediately began totravel swiftly away from land, with a smooth, swaying motion.
The boys waved from the shore. Gleameil responded; but Maskull turnedhis back squarely to land, and gazed ahead. Polecrab was wading back tothe shore.
For upward of an hour Maskull did not change his position by an inch. Nosound was heard but the splashing of the strange waves all around them,and the streamlike gurgle of the current, which threaded its waysmoothly through the tossing, tumultuous sea. From their pathway ofsafety, the beautiful dangers surrounding them were an exhilaratingexperience. 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 hadlong since banished all sadness and anxiety from his heart. Yet he feltsuch a grudge against the woman for selfishly forsaking those who shouldhave been dear to her that he could not bring himself to begin aconversation.
But when, over the now enlarged shape of the dark island, he caughtsight of a long chain of lofty, distant mountains, glowing salmon-pinkin the evening sunlight, he felt constrained to break the silence byinquiring what they were.
“It is Lichstorm,” said Gleameil.
Maskull asked no questions about it; but in turning to address her, hiseyes had rested on the rapidly receding Wombflash Forest, and hecontinued to stare at that. They had travelled about eight miles, andnow he could better estimate the enormous height of the trees.Overtopping them, far away, he saw Sant; and he fancied, but was notquite sure, that he could distinguish Disscourn as well.
“Now that we are alone in a strange place,” said Gleameil, averting herhead, and looking down over the side of the raft into the water, “tellme what you thought of Polecrab.”
Maskull paused before answering. “He seemed to me like a mountainwrapped in cloud. You see the lower buttresses, and think that is all.But then, high up, far above the clouds, you suddenly catch sight ofmore mountain—and even then it is not the top.”
“You read character well, and have great perception,” remarked Gleameilquietly. “Now say what I am.”
“In place of a human heart, you have a wild harp, and that’s all I knowabout you.”
“What was that you said to my husband about two worlds?”
“You heard.”
“Yes, I heard. And I also am conscious of two worlds. My husband andboys are real to me, and I love them fondly. But there is another worldfor me, as there is for you, Maskull, and it makes my real world appearall false and vulgar.”
“Perhaps we are seeking the same thing. But can it be right to satisfyour self-nature at the expense of other people?”
“No, it’s not right. It is wrong, and base. But in that other worldthese words have no meaning.”
There was a silence.
“It’s useless to discuss such topics,” said Maskull. “The choice is nowout of our hands, and we must go where we are taken. What I would ratherspeak about is what awaits us on the island.”
“I am ignorant—except that we shall 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.”
“If you please,” said Maskull.
“In a far-back age,” began Gleameil, “when the seas were hot, and cloudshung 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, whenthe moon shone, people used to gather on this shore behind us, andlisten to the faint, sweet strains floating from over the sea. Onenight, Shaping (whom you call Crystalman) was passing this way incompany 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 notable to see their presence. Shaping stood behind him, and breathedthoughts into his soul, so that his music became ten times lovelier, andpeople listening on that shore went mad with sick delight. ‘Can anystrains be nobler?’ demanded Shaping. Krag grinned and said, ‘You arenaturally effeminate. Now let me try.’ Then he stood behind Swaylone,and shot ugly discords fast into his head. His instrument was socracked, that never since has it played right. From that time forthSwaylone could utter only distorted music; yet it called to folk morethan the other sort. Many men crossed over to the island during hislifetime, to listen to the amazing tones, but none could endure them;all died. After Swaylone’s death, another musician took up the tale; andso the light has passed down from torch to torch, till now Earthridbears it.”
“An interesting legend,” commented Maskull. “But who is Krag?”
“They say that when the world was born, Krag was born with it—a spiritcompounded of those vestiges of Muspel which Shaping did not know how totransform. Thereafter nothing has gone right with the world, for he dogsShaping’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’sactions, so the lovers of the world call him ‘devil.’ They don’tunderstand, Maskull, that without him the world would lose its beauty.”
“Krag and beauty!” exclaimed he, 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, andhappiness.... Did you imagine beauty to be pleasant?”
“Surely.”
“That pleasant beauty is an insipid compound of Shaping. To see beautyin its terrible purity, you must tear away the pleasure from it.”
“Do you say I am going to seek beauty, Gleameil? Such an idea is farfrom my mind.”
She did not respond to his remark. After waiting for a few mi
nutes, tohear if she would speak again, he turned his back on her once more.There was no more talk 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 tobe some three or four miles in length. There were first of all broadsands, then low, dark cliffs, and behind these a wilderness ofinsignificant, swelling hills, entirely devoid of vegetation. Thecurrent bore them to within a hundred yards of the coast, when it made asharp angle, and proceeded to skirt the length of the land.
Gleameil jumped overboard, and began swimming to shore. Maskull followedher example, and the raft, abandoned, was rapidly borne away by thecurrent. They soon touched ground, and were able to wade the rest of theway. By the time they reached dry land, the sun had set.
Gleameil made straight for the hills; and Maskull, after casting asingle glance at the low, dim outline of the Wombflash Forest, followedher. The cliffs were soon scrambled up. Then the ascent was gentle andeasy, while the rich, dry, brown mould was good to walk upon.
A little way off, on their left, something white was shining.
“You need not go to it,” said the woman. “It can be nothing else thanone of those skeletons Polecrab talked about. And look—there is anotherone over there!”
“This brings it home!” remarked Maskull, smiling.
“There is nothing comical in having died for beauty,” said Gleameil,bending her brows 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 itwere a naked graveyard among the hills, he agreed with her, and fellinto a sombre mood.
It was still light when they reached the highest point, and could seteyes on the other side. The sea to the north of the island was in no waydifferent from that which they had crossed, but its lively colors werefast becoming invisible.
“That is Matterplay,” said the woman, pointing her finger toward somelow land on the horizon, which seemed to be even farther off thanWombflash.
“I wonder how Digrung passed over,” meditated Maskull.
Not far away, in a hollow enclosed by a circle of little hills, they sawa small, circular lake, not more than half a mile in diameter. Thesunset colors of the sky were reflected in its waters.
“That must be Irontick,” remarked Gleameil.
“What is that?”
“I have heard that it’s the instrument Earthrid plays on.”
“We are getting close,” responded he. “Let us go and investigate.”
When they drew nearer, they observed that a man was reclining on thefarther side, in an attitude of sleep.
“If that’s not the man himself, who can it be?” said Maskull. “Let’s getacross the water, if it will bear us; it will save time.”
He now assumed the lead, and took running strides down the slope whichbounded the lake on that side. Gleameil followed him with greaterdignity, keeping her eyes fixed on the recumbent man as if fascinated.When Maskull reached the water’s edge, he tried it with one foot, todiscover if it would carry his weight. Something unusual in itsappearance led him to have doubts. It was a tranquil, dark, andbeautifully reflecting sheet of water; it resembled a mirror of liquidmetal. Finding that it would bear him, and that nothing happened, heplaced his second foot on its surface. Instantly he sustained a violentshock throughout his body, as from a powerful electric current; and hewas hurled in a tumbled heap back on to the bank.
He picked himself up, brushed the dirt off his person, and startedwalking around the lake. Gleameil joined him, and they completed thehalf circuit together. They came to the man, and Maskull prodded himwith his foot. He woke up, and blinked at them.
His face was pale, weak, and vacant-looking, and had a disagreeableexpression. There were thin sprouts of black hair on his chin and head.On his forehead, in place of a third eye, he possessed a perfectlycircular organ, with elaborate convolutions, like an ear. He had anunpleasant smell. He appeared to be of young middle age.
“Wake up, man,” said Maskull sharply, “and tell us if you are Earthrid.”
“What time is it?” counterquestioned the man. “Does it want long tomoonrise?”
Without appearing to care about an answer, he sat up, and turning awayfrom them, began to scoop up the loose soil with his hand, and to eat ithalfheartedly.
“Now, how can you eat that filth?” demanded Maskull, in disgust.
“Don’t be angry, Maskull,” said Gleameil, laying hold of his arm, andflushing a little. “It is Earthrid—the man who is to help us.”
“He has not 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 wanthere? Or rather, you had better get away as quickly as you can, for itwill be too late when Teargeld rises.”
“You need not explain,” exclaimed Maskull. “We know your reputation, andwe have come to hear your music. But what’s that organ for on yourforehead?”
Earthrid glared, and smiled, and glared again.
“That is for rhythm, which is what changes noise into music. Don’t standand argue, but go away. It is no pleasure to me to people the islandwith corpses. They corrupt the air, and do nothing else.”
Darkness now crept swiftly on over the landscape.
“You are rather bigmouthed,” said Maskull coolly. “But after we haveheard you play, perhaps I shall adventure 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 herintense way. “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 theThree in nature. This world, which lies extended before us, has threedirections. Length is the line which shuts off what is, from what isnot. Breadth is the surface which shows us in what manner one thing ofwhat-is, lives with another thing. Depth is the path which leads fromwhat-is, to our own body. In music it is not otherwise. Tone isexistence, without which nothing at all can be. Symmetry and Numbers arethe manner in which tones exist, one with another. Emotion is themovement 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 basedon pleasure; its symmetry is regular and charming, its emotion is sweetand lovely.... But my music is founded on painful tones; and thus itssymmetry is wild, and difficult to discover; its emotion is bitter andterrible.”
“If I had not anticipated its being original, I would not have comehere,” said Maskull. “Still, explain—why can’t harsh tones have simplesymmetry of form? And why must they necessarily cause more profoundemotions in us who listen?”
“Pleasures may harmonise. Pains must clash; and in the order of theirclashing lies the symmetry. The emotions follow the music, which isrough and earnest.”
“You may call it music,” remarked Maskull thoughtfully, “but to me itbears a closer resemblance to actual life.”
“If Shaping’s plans had gone straight, life would have been like thatother sort of music. He who seeks can find traces of that intention inthe world of nature. But as it has turned out, real life resembles mymusic and mine is the true music.”
“Shall we see living shapes?”
“I don’t know what my mood will be,” returned Earthrid. “But when I havefinished, you shall adventure your tune, and produce whatever shapes youplease—unless, indeed, the tune is out of 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.”
Earthrid looked at her with a dignified expression.
“Neither you, nor any other person, can endure the thoughts which I pu
tinto my music. Still, you must have it your own way. It needed a womanto 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 fromthe womb of nature.”
Earthrid stared at her, without response. “Teargeld is rising,” he saidat last. “And now you shall see—though not for long.”
As the words left his mouth, the full moon peeped over the hills in thedark 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 shadowyparts stood out in just as strong relief, but somehow it did not giveMaskull the impression of being a dead world. Branchspell shone on thewhole of it, but Alppain only on a part. The broad crescent thatreflected Branchspell’s rays alone was white and brilliant; but the partthat was illuminated by both suns shone with a greenish radiance thathad almost solar power, and yet was cold and cheerless. On gazing atthat combined light, he felt the same sense of disintegration that theafterglow of Alppain had always caused in him; but now the feeling wasnot physical, but merely aesthetic. The moon did not appear romantic tohim, 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 clappedhis hands together meditatively two or three times, and walked up anddown. 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 sametime stretching out his right leg, so that the foot was in contact withthe water.
While Maskull was in the act of staring at him and at the lake, he felta stabbing sensation right through his heart, as though he had beenpierced by a rapier. He barely recovered himself from falling, and as hedid so he saw that a spout had formed on the water, and was nowsubsiding again. The next moment he was knocked down by a violent blowin the mouth, delivered by an invisible hand. He picked himself up; andobserved 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 amalignant tumour. In his agony, he stumbled and fell again; this time onthe arm Krag had wounded. All his other mishaps were forgotten in thisone, which half stunned him. It lasted only a moment, and then suddenrelief came, and he found that Earthrid’s rough music had lost its powerover him.
He saw him still stretched in the same position. Spouts were comingthick and fast on the lake, which was full of lively motion. ButGleameil 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. Whenhe reached her, he discovered that she was dead. In what state of mindshe had died, he did not know, for her face wore the vulgar Crystalmangrin. The whole tragedy had not lasted five minutes.
He went over to Earthrid and dragged him forcibly away from his playing.
“You have been as good as your word, musician,” he said. “Gleameil isdead.”
Earthrid tried to collect his scattered senses.
“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 spokeabout. She heard nothing of the passion, nor even of the rhythm. Neitherhave you.”
Maskull looked down at him in indignation, but said nothing.
“You should not have interrupted me,” went on Earthrid. “When I amplaying, nothing else is of importance. I might have lost the thread ofmy ideas. Fortunately, I never forget. I shall start over again.”
“If music is to continue, in the presence of the dead, I 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 onlytonight.”
Earthrid clenched and unclenched his fist, and began to turn pale. “Withyour recklessness, you are likely to kill us both. Irontick belongs tome, and until you have learned how to play, you would only break theinstrument.”
“Well, then, I will break it; but I am going to try.”
The musician jumped to his feet and confronted him. “Do you intend totake it from me by violence?”
“Keep calm! You will have the same choice that you offered us. I shallgive you time to go away somewhere.”
“How will that serve me, if you spoil my lake? You don’t understand whatyou are doing.”
“Go, or stay!” responded Maskull. “I give you till the water gets smoothagain. After that, I begin playing.”
Earthrid kept swallowing. He glanced at the lake and back to Maskull.
“Do you swear it?”
“How long that will take, you know better than I; but till then you aresafe.”
Earthrid cast him a look of malice, hesitated for an instant, and thenmoved away, and started to climb the nearest hill. Halfway up he glancedover his shoulder apprehensively, as if to see what was happening. Inanother minute or so, he had disappeared over the crest, travelling inthe direction of the shore that faced Matterplay.
Later, when the water was once more tranquil, Maskull sat down by itsedge, in imitation of Earthrid’s attitude. He knew neither how to setabout producing his music, nor what would come of it. But audaciousprojects entered his brain and he willed to create physical shapes—and,above all, one shape, that of Surtur.
Before putting his foot to the water, he turned things over a little inhis mind.
He said, “What themes are in common music, shapes are in this music. Thecomposer does not find his theme by picking out single notes; but thewhole theme flashes into his mind by inspiration. So it must be withshapes. When I start playing, if I am worth anything, the undividedideas will pass from my unconscious mind to this lake, and then,reflected back in the dimensions of reality, I shall be for the firsttime made acquainted with them. So it must be.”
The instant his foot touched the water, he felt his thoughts flowingfrom him. He did not know what they were, but the mere act of flowingcreated a sensation of joyful mastery. With this was curiosity to learnwhat they would prove to be. Spouts formed on the lake in increasingnumbers, but he experienced no pain. His thoughts, which he knew to bemusic, did not issue from him in a steady, unbroken stream, but ingreat, rough gushes, succeeding intervals of quiescence. When thesegushes came, the whole lake broke out in an eruption of spouts.
He realised that the ideas passing from him did not arise in hisintellect, but had their source in the fathomless depths of his will. Hecould not decide what character they should have, but he was able toforce them out, or retard them, by the exercise of his volition.
At first nothing changed around him. Then the moon grew dimmer, and astrange, new radiance began to illuminate the landscape. It increased soimperceptibly that it was some time before he recognised it as theMuspel-light which he had seen in the Wombflash Forest. He could notgive it a colour, or a name, but it filled him with a sort of stern andsacred awe. He called up the resources of his powerful will. The spoutsthickened like a forest, and many of them were twenty feet high.Teargeld looked faint and pale; the radiance became intense; but it castno 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. Hesaw no shapes, and redoubled his efforts.
His ideas were now rushing out onto the lake so furiously that his wholesoul was possessed by exhilaration and defiance. But still he did notknow their nature. A huge spout shot up and at the same moment the hillsbegan to crack and break. Great masses of loose soil were erupted fromtheir bowels, and in the next period of quietness, he saw that thelandscape had altered. Still the mysterious light intensified. The moondisappeared entirely. The noise of the unseen tempest was terrifying,but Maskull played heroically on, trying to urge out ideas which wouldtake shape. The hillside
s were cleft with chasms. The water escapingfrom the tops of the spouts, swamped the land; but where he was, it wasdry.
The radiance grew terrible. It was everywhere, but Maskull fancied thatit was far brighter in one particular quarter. He thought that it wasbecoming localised, preparatory to contracting into a solid form. Hestrained and strained....
Immediately afterward the bottom of the lake subsided. Its waters fellthrough, and his instrument was broken.
The Muspel-light vanished. The moon shone out again, but Maskull couldnot see it. After that unearthly shining, he seemed to himself to be intotal blackness. The screaming wind ceased; there was a dead silence.His thoughts finished flowing toward the lake, and his foot no longertouched water, but hung in space.
He was too stunned by the suddenness of the change to either think orfeel. While he was still lying dazed, a vast explosion occurred in thenewly opened depths beneath the lakebed. The water in its descent hadmet fire. Maskull was lifted bodily in the air, many yards high, andcame down heavily. He lost consciousness....
When he came to his senses again, he saw everything. Teargeld wasgleaming brilliantly. He was lying by the side of the old lake, but itwas 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 fewthunderclouds were floating in the air at no great height, from whichbranched lightning descended to the earth incessantly, accompanied byalarming and singular crashes.
He got on his legs, and tested his actions. Finding that he wasuninjured, he first of all viewed the crater at closer quarters, andthen started to walk painfully toward the northern shore.
When he had attained the crest above the lake, the landscape slopedgently down for two miles to the sea. Everywhere he passed throughtraces of his rough work. The country was carved into scarps, grooves,channels, and craters. He arrived at the line of low cliffs overlookingthe beach, and found that these also were partly broken down bylandslips. He got down onto the sand and stood looking over the moonlit,agitated sea, wondering how he could contrive to escape from this islandof failure.
Then he saw Earthrid’s body, lying quite close to him. It was on itsback. Both legs had been violently torn off and he could not see themanywhere. Earthrid’s teeth were buried in the flesh of his rightforearm, indicating that the man had died in unreasoning physical agony.The skin gleamed green in the moonlight, but it was stained by darkerdiscolourations, which were wounds. The sand about him was dyed by thepool of blood which had long since filtered through.
Maskull left the corpse in dismay, and walked a long way along thesweet-smelling shore. Sitting down on a rock, he waited for daybreak.