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THE LAST OGRE
103
steadily neater and neater, a horrid, baying cry,
the weary cry of a tortured animal, a snarling,
moaning gibberish. Nearer it came and, looking
out, for a time the girl could see no cause of it.
And then she saw.
By the mere of the lake the Thing came bounding
into the fire-radiance. Neither upright nor on all
fours it came. Its skin gleamed a hideous, dead
grey. It dragged a great club behind it, snuffling
up the slope to the cleft. Its head and face came in
view then and as she saw them, Amima, lost far
from Alarlu and its shelters, heard wrung from her
lips such cry of horror and disgust as would surely
echo to the plateau itself.
VIII
Many parsangs away in the sunset at that moment
Bishop Nerses and Eidon the Chaplain were camp-
ing the main body of the search-party under the
outer walls of the Kablurz Beg.
‘It may be my daughter has found shelter in
some cave of the mountains. We can do no more
for her until the light comes again/
Eidon the Chaplain shook his head. ‘By the
claw-marks on the pony’s saddle it seems that some
wild beast sebzed her/ He glanced fearfully towards
the dark, sky-towering walls. ‘ Or some devil of the
mountains/
But even at that moment he found his Bishop as
heretical as ever. ‘ Demons there are—but in our
103
steadily neater and neater, a horrid, baying cry,
the weary cry of a tortured animal, a snarling,
moaning gibberish. Nearer it came and, looking
out, for a time the girl could see no cause of it.
And then she saw.
By the mere of the lake the Thing came bounding
into the fire-radiance. Neither upright nor on all
fours it came. Its skin gleamed a hideous, dead
grey. It dragged a great club behind it, snuffling
up the slope to the cleft. Its head and face came in
view then and as she saw them, Amima, lost far
from Alarlu and its shelters, heard wrung from her
lips such cry of horror and disgust as would surely
echo to the plateau itself.
VIII
Many parsangs away in the sunset at that moment
Bishop Nerses and Eidon the Chaplain were camp-
ing the main body of the search-party under the
outer walls of the Kablurz Beg.
‘It may be my daughter has found shelter in
some cave of the mountains. We can do no more
for her until the light comes again/
Eidon the Chaplain shook his head. ‘By the
claw-marks on the pony’s saddle it seems that some
wild beast sebzed her/ He glanced fearfully towards
the dark, sky-towering walls. ‘ Or some devil of the
mountains/
But even at that moment he found his Bishop as
heretical as ever. ‘ Demons there are—but in our
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| The books of Lewis Grassic Gibbon > Persian dawns, Egyptian nights > (107) |
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| Permanent URL | https://digital.nls.uk/205202353 |
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| Description | J. Leslie Mitchell ; with a foreword by J.D. Beresford. |
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| Shelfmark | Vts.148.d.8 |
| Attribution and copyright: |
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More information
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| Description | Sixteen books written by Lewis Grassic Gibbon (1901-1935), regarded as the most important Scottish prose writer of the early 20th century. All were published in the last seven years of his life, mostly under his real name, James Leslie Mitchell. They include two works of science fiction, non-fiction works on exploration, short stories set in Egypt, a novel about Spartacus, and the classic 'Scots Quair' trilogy which includes 'Sunset Song'. Mitchell's first book 'Hanno, or the future of exploration' (1928) is rare and has never been republished. |
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