[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
That single eye produced only one. Gently Rell backed off.
Kegan watched curiously, said nothing until Rell had moved away. "He's not
coming with us?"
"It is his time to die," Titch said softly.
Kegan was a practical man, not a diplomat. "We'll miss his help. If he's
going to die anyway, why doesn't he come with us?"
"No. He must stay here and accept his fate. If he opposes it in any way, he
will bring great pain on himself."
Kegan shrugged, urged his fire-mare forward. "A strange way to live. A
stranger way to die. Be thankful, boy, we were given two eyes instead of one."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Ergo rode last in line and was quick to note the exchange. He turned in his
saddle. "Rell"
"I must stay here, my magnificent friend. You and Titch have already
realized your wishes. Soon I will realize mine."
Ergo reined his mount in. "We had no time to be friends. I mistrusted you
when I first met you."
"And I was equally unsure of you," Rell replied.
"No time. Never enough time, it seems. I wish..." He shrugged helplessly.
"Good-bye, friend."
"Farewell, Ergo. There was time enough for friendship. Go now without
looking back. There'll be nothing to see."
But Ergo could not help looking back. Rell stood staring after the departing
troupe, solid as the rock walls that enclosed him, until they swallowed him up,
Colwyn kept the pace easy until they were clear of the canyons. Ahead lay
the southern plain and beyond, where the grass rusted, the Iron Desert. And Lyssa.
Thoughts of her freshened his resolve. They had a long way to go.
Kicking his mount's flanks as hard as he could, he chucked the reins and let
put a shout. The mare started, reared, then let herself go. The breeze in Colwyn's
face became a gale, then a hurricane. Soon he was no longer riding, he was holding
on for his life.
Behind him he heard yells and cries as his companions urged their steeds to
keep pace. Hazarding a glance backward, he saw the frightened faces of his men
hugging tight to massive necks, saw whitened fingers clutched convulsively around
taut reins. Below the men were pounding, wondrous bodies, and between them and the
earth were only blurs riding streaks of fire.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Carefully he sat up in the saddle and squinted into the
wind. At this pace they might indeed reach the Iron Desert in time.
It had been a slow week and the boatman was hungry for a little business. He
scratched at himself as he emerged from his hut, tugging at his jacket and grumbling
at the lateness of the hour. Now, what fools would come atraveling this time of
morning, when the moon insisted it was still night, no matter what the clock might
say?
Well, they'd pay and pay plenty for disturbing him at such an unholy hour.
Automatically he looked to his right. His ferry bobbed lazily at anchor, ready for
the next crossing.
"Oh, you'll pay dearly for this boatride, gentlemen, whoever you are. And if
you're nobles you'll pay in gold or get yourselves wet!"
Odd. Beneath the rumble of approaching hooves he thought he detected a faint
hissing sound, like a kettle boiling over on a stove. Distant lightning, perhaps. At
least it sounded like a large party. The night should prove profitable. If he felt
like it and they were desperate enough to cross, he might make them pay for the
whole week.
Suddenly he was fully awake and his eyes bugged as he saw the fire coming
toward him. He looked wildly from right to left and finally threw himself onto the
riverbank, hardly daring to look up.
But there was no explosion of water from riders plunging into the river. He
gaped upward as the horses, trailing flame from their hooves, cleared the river in a
single awesome bound to land safe and dry on the far shore. In another instant they
were gone.
"Was that a dream?" he mumbled aloud. Nay, it was as real as the mud caking
his face and clothes. He picked at it as he sat up and stared across the river.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Before long his earlier mood had returned. Not only had he lost his expected
Page 72
Alan Dean Foster - Krull
customers, now he would have to pay some old woman in the village to clean
his working clothes.
"And I'd have settled for a little silver," he groused as he staggered back
into his hut.
Hearts pounded uneasily as the fire-mares drove their tireless way across
the plains, particularly when they leaped a certain deep gorge no normal horse could
have negotiated in three jumps. Confident and powerful they might be, but a man
could only handle so much magic in one night. At least no one was in any danger of
falling asleep in his saddle. Terror is a wonderful stimulant.
They'd reached the desert by the time the sun showed itself above the
horizon. Red sand and gravel exploded beneath fiery hooves as the mares, seemingly
as fresh as they'd been back in the canyon where they'd been saddled, thundered
onward at Colwyn's urging. Strange green and brown plants appeared, causing those
men with any strength to spare to wonder at their eerie shapes and absence of
leaves.
Soon Colwyn was forced to slow. They were approaching a mountain. The
mountain had regular sides and peculiar over-hangs, and projections. In the rising
suns it shone a dull black.
Torquil reined in beside him and Colwyn pointed with his right hand. "There
it is. I'd not thought to see such a thing. When this day is done, maybe we'll never
have to see it again."
The Black Fortress towered before them, rising windowless and cold from the
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
desert floor. Beneath, the ground had been permanently altered. Now it would do the
same to the lives of the men who sat staring at it.
"Yes, there it is," Torquil muttered as he gazed at the alien monolith, "and
none but us madmen would want to get this close to it."
There was no mistaking the resolve in Colwyn's voice. Knowing that at last [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl akte20.pev.pl
That single eye produced only one. Gently Rell backed off.
Kegan watched curiously, said nothing until Rell had moved away. "He's not
coming with us?"
"It is his time to die," Titch said softly.
Kegan was a practical man, not a diplomat. "We'll miss his help. If he's
going to die anyway, why doesn't he come with us?"
"No. He must stay here and accept his fate. If he opposes it in any way, he
will bring great pain on himself."
Kegan shrugged, urged his fire-mare forward. "A strange way to live. A
stranger way to die. Be thankful, boy, we were given two eyes instead of one."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Ergo rode last in line and was quick to note the exchange. He turned in his
saddle. "Rell"
"I must stay here, my magnificent friend. You and Titch have already
realized your wishes. Soon I will realize mine."
Ergo reined his mount in. "We had no time to be friends. I mistrusted you
when I first met you."
"And I was equally unsure of you," Rell replied.
"No time. Never enough time, it seems. I wish..." He shrugged helplessly.
"Good-bye, friend."
"Farewell, Ergo. There was time enough for friendship. Go now without
looking back. There'll be nothing to see."
But Ergo could not help looking back. Rell stood staring after the departing
troupe, solid as the rock walls that enclosed him, until they swallowed him up,
Colwyn kept the pace easy until they were clear of the canyons. Ahead lay
the southern plain and beyond, where the grass rusted, the Iron Desert. And Lyssa.
Thoughts of her freshened his resolve. They had a long way to go.
Kicking his mount's flanks as hard as he could, he chucked the reins and let
put a shout. The mare started, reared, then let herself go. The breeze in Colwyn's
face became a gale, then a hurricane. Soon he was no longer riding, he was holding
on for his life.
Behind him he heard yells and cries as his companions urged their steeds to
keep pace. Hazarding a glance backward, he saw the frightened faces of his men
hugging tight to massive necks, saw whitened fingers clutched convulsively around
taut reins. Below the men were pounding, wondrous bodies, and between them and the
earth were only blurs riding streaks of fire.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Carefully he sat up in the saddle and squinted into the
wind. At this pace they might indeed reach the Iron Desert in time.
It had been a slow week and the boatman was hungry for a little business. He
scratched at himself as he emerged from his hut, tugging at his jacket and grumbling
at the lateness of the hour. Now, what fools would come atraveling this time of
morning, when the moon insisted it was still night, no matter what the clock might
say?
Well, they'd pay and pay plenty for disturbing him at such an unholy hour.
Automatically he looked to his right. His ferry bobbed lazily at anchor, ready for
the next crossing.
"Oh, you'll pay dearly for this boatride, gentlemen, whoever you are. And if
you're nobles you'll pay in gold or get yourselves wet!"
Odd. Beneath the rumble of approaching hooves he thought he detected a faint
hissing sound, like a kettle boiling over on a stove. Distant lightning, perhaps. At
least it sounded like a large party. The night should prove profitable. If he felt
like it and they were desperate enough to cross, he might make them pay for the
whole week.
Suddenly he was fully awake and his eyes bugged as he saw the fire coming
toward him. He looked wildly from right to left and finally threw himself onto the
riverbank, hardly daring to look up.
But there was no explosion of water from riders plunging into the river. He
gaped upward as the horses, trailing flame from their hooves, cleared the river in a
single awesome bound to land safe and dry on the far shore. In another instant they
were gone.
"Was that a dream?" he mumbled aloud. Nay, it was as real as the mud caking
his face and clothes. He picked at it as he sat up and stared across the river.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Before long his earlier mood had returned. Not only had he lost his expected
Page 72
Alan Dean Foster - Krull
customers, now he would have to pay some old woman in the village to clean
his working clothes.
"And I'd have settled for a little silver," he groused as he staggered back
into his hut.
Hearts pounded uneasily as the fire-mares drove their tireless way across
the plains, particularly when they leaped a certain deep gorge no normal horse could
have negotiated in three jumps. Confident and powerful they might be, but a man
could only handle so much magic in one night. At least no one was in any danger of
falling asleep in his saddle. Terror is a wonderful stimulant.
They'd reached the desert by the time the sun showed itself above the
horizon. Red sand and gravel exploded beneath fiery hooves as the mares, seemingly
as fresh as they'd been back in the canyon where they'd been saddled, thundered
onward at Colwyn's urging. Strange green and brown plants appeared, causing those
men with any strength to spare to wonder at their eerie shapes and absence of
leaves.
Soon Colwyn was forced to slow. They were approaching a mountain. The
mountain had regular sides and peculiar over-hangs, and projections. In the rising
suns it shone a dull black.
Torquil reined in beside him and Colwyn pointed with his right hand. "There
it is. I'd not thought to see such a thing. When this day is done, maybe we'll never
have to see it again."
The Black Fortress towered before them, rising windowless and cold from the
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
desert floor. Beneath, the ground had been permanently altered. Now it would do the
same to the lives of the men who sat staring at it.
"Yes, there it is," Torquil muttered as he gazed at the alien monolith, "and
none but us madmen would want to get this close to it."
There was no mistaking the resolve in Colwyn's voice. Knowing that at last [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]