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"Are you another of the wise men of the Wombflash Forest?" The man answered him in a gruff, husky voice, looking up as he did so. "I'm a fisherman. I know nothing about wisdom." "What name do you go by?" "Polecrab. What's yours?" "Maskull. If you're a fisherman, you ought to have fish. I'm famishing." Polecrab grunted, and paused a minute before answering. "There's fish enough.
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.
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. A little way off, on their left, something white was shining. "You need not go to it," said the woman.
It was hard, bitter, and astringent; he could not get rid of the taste, but he felt braced and invigorated by the downward-flowing juices. No other trees or shrubs were to be seen anywhere. No animals appeared, no birds or insects. It was a desolate land. A mile or two passed, when they again approached the edge of the plateau. Far down, beneath their feet, the great Wombflash Forest began.
Panawe paused for a moment or two, and then started his narrative in tranquil, measured, yet sympathetic tones. He dwelt in the great Wombflash Forest. We walked through trees for three days, sleeping at night. The trees grew taller as we went along, until the tops were out of sight. The trunks were of a dark red colour and the leaves were of pale ulfire. My father kept stopping to think.
Regret nothing, stranger, but go away at once out of the land." "Tonight? Where shall I go?" "To Wombflash, where you will meet the deepest minds. I will put you on the way." He linked his arm in Maskull's, and they walked away into the night. For a mile or more they skirted the edge of the precipice. The wind was searching, and drove grit into their faces.
Spadevil struck off toward the north unhesitatingly. "It is not so far," he said. "It is his custom to be in that part where Sant overhangs the Wombflash Forest. Perhaps he will be there, but I cannot say." Maskull glanced toward Tydomin. Her sunken cheeks, and the dark circles beneath her eyes told of her extreme weariness. "The woman is tired, Spadevil," he said.
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.
Through the rifts of the clouds, stars, faint and brilliant, appeared. Maskull saw no familiar constellations. He wondered if the sun of earth was visible, and if so which one it was. They came to the head of a rough staircase, leading down the cliffside. It resembled the one by which he had come up; but this descended to the Wombflash Forest.
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. "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. "I wonder how Digrung passed over," meditated Maskull.
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