The Birth of People's Republic of Antartica, стр. 137
The keen-eared bards, in my deep-dug halls, sing of my seasons with anger’s billow against an alien brood. Hard-Fisherman’s soul had departed this earth. My mourning burned my throat. I proclaimed to my company that they should commence prayers for my soul, for I was bound by oath and would not turn from my duty unless death broke my limbs. My brave shieldsmen walked to my side. Elephant Son said, “Your tracks, our steps.” Copper-Crowned said, “The black-eyed fawn, that dark-haired queen, is my sister, and you are my brother.” I welcomed my thanes onto Hard-Fisherman’s curved-prow ship, where we joined with those who had followed the white-bearded seeker. We loosed the hawsers and pushed off from those stone beaches. We did not heed the cries of the slender-armed women left behind who were unconvinced of our promise to return to them in their smoky fen, who gave sour portent, “Those who feud break their promises like battle-shafts.”
Elephant Son set our special sea-dress, and we swam through an ocean afire with hatred and covered with crackling ice islands. My ship was Glad-Hunter. I stood at the prow with my truth-cleated battle-shaft. No sea-beast bent our line. No fumes from Hell bent my head. My thanes said a wonder-smith had forged my reach. I slew the ice, and gave waste to ice-wasted shores.
Elephant Son’s sea-wisdom brought Glad-Hunter beneath the gaze of the kindred of Cain, who Hard-Fisherman had told me held the darkhaired queen in chains for their pleasure. The kindred of Cain were behemoths grown swollen by feasting on the flesh of black and hurt halfmen. They squatted in a cliff-keep built by long-dead giants. It was nameless. It was walled perfidy. I was not blocked from driving my curved prow wave-cutter onto the poisoned shore. I bolted on my honor-linked armor. I sprang to the ice-draped rocks. I was at the noon of my might. I was ripe of mind for my quest.
There was no morning or evening in the nameless cliff-keep. Murder slew time and falsehood made one day as long as a season. I led my thanes through the underground trail. The dark cast thickened. The stones ahead boomed beneath the step of an approaching behemoth. He dragged his loathsome body before me. He said his name was Brother Murder. He said he was first among the last in the nameless cliff-keep that was walled perfidy. He said that the dark-haired queen was his hard-won consort. He said he was pleasure for the dark-haired queen, whom he called Hard-Heart.
I met the treachery of the boastful behemoth. His breath was without cure. His eyes were pits. I kissed my memories of Hard-Fisherman. I was unafraid of his lust. I did not pity him. I commanded my thanes to stand in my reflection. I spoke out, son of Dragon-Worrier, “I am the Champion of the Land of Fire-Scolds.”
He spoke out, First of the Last, “You are Hard-Fishermans Sought-Treasure. Your coming has long been told. My queen, Hard-Heart, had entertained me with tales of your wasted days of longing. My queen, Hard-Heart, who gives me pleasure as I give her pleasure had ordered that you share our feasting table. I would have you slain before you sleep. My soft-armed consort commands that you must first suffer the sorrow that slays sleep.”
I spoke, Champion of the Land of Fire-Scolds, “Your lies are as clear as my quest. No false contempt will deceive me, no rancid meat will sicken me, no sleep in this hall of monsters will tempt me, for I am come on a pyre-sworn oath to free the dark-haired queen from your embrace. / am Hard-Fisherman’s Seed’s Seed, and I wield a mind no less bright-edged than my battle-shaft. When I strike for my desire in this stinking fortress I shall gather to me the slaves whom you feed upon as I shall dispatch you and your Cain-brothers to your welcome in Hell.”
Brother Murder fell into a silence that contained a foul learning. Brother Murder led, and I and my war-band followed, through the underground trail to the roasting hall where the kindred of Cain gathered for their feast.
The dozen behemoths who ruled there, joined by the first among the last, displayed themselves in treacherous entertainment at their long table. I and my quest-companions walked among them. I cast my eyes hard, for no light penetrated that smoky fen. I could not glimpse the dark-haired queen whose fair form I had come to wrest from the ice-mere, and I told my sea-warriors that the desire of my quest must be sealed within the nameless cliff-keep.
“Behold Hard-Fisherman’s Heart’s Heart,” spoke Brother Murder to his eleven Cain-brothers. “He is no fool. He is a warrior deprived of the knowledge of who is a prisoner and who is a warden. He has spoken that he comes to set free our queen, Hard-Heart, chained here by our cruel direction.”
I spoke with unblunted anger, son of Dragon-Worrier, “Hold your twisted words and show your murder-dulled battle-shafts. I shall cut your numbers one throat at a throw unless you deliver me the dark-haired queen, whom you torture for your pleasure!”
Brother Murder stood among the eleven other behemoths. They hissed and choked at my words, the mirth of shades and fiends. I would not await more false invitation. I waved my sure battle-shaft over my head, faster and faster, so that the dark air of the hall swirled in a wind that lifted the shadows. At the head of the feasting table sat that fettered fawn, Hard-Heart.
“I am here all