“But they said it might mean death to try to pass the Vortex. They forced none to go. Only such as would need try.”
“A volunteer expedition, eh?” thought Allan. “And look at the size of it, will you? These people are without even the slightest understanding of fear!”
“Thus it was arranged, master,” continued Rigvin. “Eight score and more of us offered to go. All things were quickly made ready, and much food was packed, and many weapons. In fifteen long canoes we started, after a great singing. Men went in each canoe to bring back the boats--”
“They didn't even wait for you? But if ye had been lost, and sought to return, what then?”
“There was to be no return, master. All swore either to find you or die!”
“Go on!” exclaimed Allan, deeply moved.
“We sailed across the Sunken Sea, O Kromno, and reached the islands of the Lanskaarn. There we had to fight and thirty were killed. But we kept on, and in two days, watching for the quiet time between the great tempests, entered the Vortex.”
“You all got through?”
“No master. There was not time. Many were lost; but still we kept on. Then on the fourth day we reached the great cleft, even as our traditions said. And here we camped, and sang again, and once more swore to find you. Then the boats all returned, and we pushed forward, upward, through the cleft.”
“And then?”