Journey to Lagour
"He was more terrible than the Flaming Mountain of Lagour..." Emeth, describing Aslan, in The Last Battle.
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They had told us that the fires belched and flung up great rocks of flame incessantly, but that like a seething pot atop a fire it could not boil over to our destruction, since no lid pressed down the flames to force a rebellion (for so it is with men and slaves; too great a pressure from above will always force a rebellion, as witness the Rising of Mazuran in the time of the Tisroc Nabeed, therefore subtlety and gentleness are tools for government as surely as the strong hand, as we are taught, as we teach, as I taught them… )
And it was these matters I pondered and expounded to them, to my joy, my beloved bright flower, and to her cousin, the daughter of the Tarkaan. For it was my duty to teach them all things as became those who were destined for high place, Handmaids of Zardeenah, therefore we travelled that they might see the wonders and the glories of our empire, and might learn from me what of history and what of economy would best serve them when they were sworn as Counsellors and Memory in far provinces, when those who now serve have passed through the Gate of Tash, and the new must take up the mighty work of government in matters great and small.
And those two were joyous in their youth and strength, and eager in their learning as in all things, and so I gave assent to their yearning to ascend the Flaming Mountain, and watched them as they took ship across the strait, and watched with the love of a mother for her daughters – surely with more love than their own mothers had for them, who sent them away to enter this Service, which cuts us off from all family forever – as the sails of that boat drew close to the Flaming Mountain, and saw with the eye of the mind how those two were leaping ashore and laughing and singing as they climbed hand-in-hand the Mountain, my shining joy and her cousin, to stand breathless and exultant at last on that great and terrible rim.
Tash! Tash! Tash! How can I speak of what I saw then, watching from across the strait?
The glory of Tash, the terror of Tash burst from the mountain, leaping living flame which … I know not. Yet I do know… leaping living flame which devoured those two bright flowers in an instant, all, all in an instant, burned up and gone, whirled into a cinder at the will of Tash, whose terrible glory rolled down the sides of that mountain burning into my eyes, and into my mind, and leaving me, though I watched from safety across the strait, leaving me, the old woman, safe and a burnt-out cinder.
And so I linger here at Lagour, unable to tear my eyes from that Mountain. The news will have gone to Tashbaan, and maybe the Sisters, or maybe the fathers and the uncles may yet come to find me here … but it does not matter what happens now.
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