Read Ursus of Ultima Thule for Free Online Page A

compact, which excluded them as it did all strangers, they learned nothing from their observations that did them any good. All ores looked alike to them; they did not know which ones to discard. All fired ironstones remained mysteries still to them; they knew not, though the nains did, which ones to discard as too brittle and which to pull out with greenwood toolsticks to be pounded upon the forge stone. Nor did they learn (or very much attempt to learn) the art of smiting with the stout stone hammer, turning and beating, beating and turning — all the while intoning in the Old Tongue:
    Pound it, pound it, pound it well
,
    Pound it well, well, well
,
    Pound it well, pound it well
,
    Pound it well, well, well …
    because it was said,
The sound of the voice is good for the iron …
    • • •
    Perhaps it was no longer as good as it once had been. Nothing seemed to be. Day after day the nains toiled to make new iron, hacks and spears and knifeheads and arrow points. And day after day the productions of — at first — the previous year were returned to them, rotten with rust, flaking and powdering to be melted down and made new and whole again. The previous year, at first. Then the irons of the previous half-year. Then the previous season. Then last month, fortnight — last week.
    One sweating nainsmith paused and pointed to a red-sick lancehead and his chest, thick and thicketed as some woodland hill, swelled as he spoke. “Not a seven-night since I beat this out — and now look how swift the iron-ill has afflicted it!” And he added in the witchery-tongue: “Thou art sick, thou art sick. Alas and woe to thee and us for thy very sickness.”
    And in his rumbling, echoing voice he began to chant and was joined by his thrall-fellows:
    Woe for the iron that is sick
,
    And the nains see it
.
    Woe for the black stone whose red blood wastes
,
    And the nains see it
.
    He thrust the heap of rusted metal into the wood fire, deep, deep, till red coals and red metals met.
    Woe for the king whose men take captive
,
    And the nains see it
.
    They take captive upon the paths
,
    And the nains see it
.
    They lead away in heavy ropes
,
    And the nains see it
.
    Captivity and toil lay waste the heart
,
    And the nains see it
.
    Captivity and toil lay waste the flesh
,
    And the nains see it
.
    The nain-thralls waste like iron
,
    The king’s evil is like rust
,
    The queen’s lust is wasteful, evil
,
    Evil, evil, are these times
,
    These days, consumed as though by wolves
.
    When will the wolf confront the bear
,
    And the nains see it?
    When will the stars throw down their spears
,
    And the nains see it?
    Confusion take these smooth of skin
,
    And the nains see it?
    When will the wizards’ mouths be fed
,
    And the nains see it?
    The nainsmith seized a lump of iron and beat upon it with the stone hammer with great, resounding blows; and with each blow they all shouted a word:
    When! Will! This! King-!-dom!
    Rot! And! Rust!
    And! The! Nains! See! It!
    *Although the presence of bronze as a crude earth is very rare, it is not unknown.

Chapter IV
    Strange sounds he heard as he lay between earth and sky, rising and sinking, turning over and over again. Strange calls upon strange horns, strange voices, sounds. Pains, swift and passing like flashes of lightning, shot through him, again and again, then less often. The Painted Men were pursuing him; he hid from them; he hid in hollows beneath the roots of trees, he hid in the forks of the branches of trees, perched upon the crests of rocks, slid into the spaces between them. Always, always, he saw the Painted Men prance by, panting in rage and shame that he had seen their naked skin. Always, always he stayed quite still. And always, always, they passed him by. And always, always they paused, legs frozen in mid-stride.
    And always they turned, saw him; he felt the blows; all vanished.
    Years went by.
    • • •
    When he became aware that he was returning to the everyday world he said in his mind