And the long ride was a hard and weary thing for Soorenard and
Akanax, for they both had mortal wounds; but the long ride was easy
for Rollory, for he was dead. So the bones of these five heroes
whitened in an enemy's land, and very still they were, though they
had troubled cities, and none knew where they lay saving only
Iraine, the young captain, who was but twenty-five when Mommolek,
Rollory, and Akanax rode away. And among them were strewn their
saddles and their bridles, and all the accoutrements of their
horses, lest any man should ever find them afterwards and say in
some foreign city: 'Lo! the bridles or the saddles of Merimna's
captains, taken in war,' but their beloved trusty horses they turned
free.

Forty years afterwards, in the hour of a great victory, his last
wound came upon Iraine, and the wound was terrible and would not
close. And Iraine was the last of the captains, and rode away
alone. It was a long way to the dark ravine, and Iraine feared that
he would never come to the resting-place of the old heroes, and he
urged his horse on swiftly, and clung to the saddle with his hands.
And often as he rode he fell asleep, and dreamed of earlier days,
and of the times when he first rode forth to the great wars of
Welleran, and of the time when Welleran first spake to him, and of
the faces of Welleran's comrades when they led charges in the
battle. And ever as he awoke a great longing arose in his soul as
it hovered on his body's brink, a longing to lie among the bones of
the old heroes. At last when he saw the dark ravine making a scar
across the plain, the soul of Iraine slipped out through his great
wound and spread its wings, and pain departed from the poor hacked
body, and, still urging his horse forward, Iraine died. But the old
true horse cantered on till suddenly he saw before him the dark