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The Whirlpool (Introduction Only)

…on to The Whirlpool, by Ethel Archer In the waste horror of the Bralduh Nala, just before it opens out into the valley of Askole, is the hot spring. A perfect circle; water like a beryl, crowned with light sulphurous steam, the wall a mound like the breast of a woman of purest white, an efflorescence. It is the hell of sterile passion glowing in the heart of the hell of desolation. So also is this book. The intricacy of faery pattern which the witch weaves is the flowered marble. We find such rime-webs as abaaab-babbba and AaBCcAaBCcAaBC and bA…