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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. "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."
The fisherman growled a little in his throat and motioned to the others to take their seats. 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." "Don't take dejected views," replied Gleameil sternly. She was not eating.
"What shall I find there?" "He may go, wife," put in the old man hoarsely, "but I won't allow you to go. I will take him over myself." "No, you have always put me off," said Gleameil, with some emotion. "This time I mean to go.
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.
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 went over to Earthrid and dragged him forcibly away from his playing. "You have been as good as your word, musician," he said. "Gleameil is dead." Earthrid tried to collect his scattered senses. "I warned her," he replied, sitting up.
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. 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.
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 and 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."
"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.
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.
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.
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