[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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Click here to buy
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mine!"
Fafhrd shoved again with the sputtering rockets. Cold air whipped
his face. He barely felt it. The moonlit lip of the jump was close ahead.
He felt its up-curve. Beyond it, darkness. Eight, nine...
He hugged the rockets fiercely to his sides, under his elbows, and
was flying through darkness. Eleven, twelve...
The rockets did not fire. The moonlight showed the opposite wall
of the canyon rushing toward him. His skis were directed at a point just
beneath its top and that point was steadily falling. He tilted the rockets
down and hugged them more fiercely still.
They fired. It was as if he were clinging to two great wrists that
were dragging him up. His elbows and sides were warm. In the sudden
glare the rock wall showed close, but now below. Sixteen, seventeen...
He touched down smoothly on the fair crust of snow covering the
Old Road and hurled the rockets to either side. There was a double
thunderclap and white stars were shooting around him. One smote and
stung, then tortured his cheek as it died. There was time for the one
great laughing thought, _I depart in a burst of glory_.
Then no time for large thoughts at all, as he gave all his attention
to skiing down the steep slope of the Old Road, now bright in the
moonlight, now pitch black as it curved, crags to the right, a precipice
to his left. Crouching and keeping his skis locked side to side, he
steered by swaying his hips. His face and his hands grew numb.
Reality was the Old Road hurled at him. Tiny bumps became great
jolts. White rims came close. Black shoulders threatened.
Deep, deep down there were thoughts nevertheless. Even as he
strained to keep all his attention on his skiing, they were there. _Idiot,
a
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Click here to buy
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you should have grabbed a pair of sticks with the rockets. But how
would you have held them when casting aside the rockets? In your
pack? -- then they'd be doing you no good now. Will the fire-pot in your
pouch prove more worthwhile than sticks? You should have stayed
with Mara. Such loveliness you'll never see again. But it's Vlana you
want. Or is it? How, with Vellix? If you weren't so cold-hearted and
good, you'd have killed Vellix in the stable, instead of speeding to --
Did you truly intend killing yourself? What do you intend now? Can
Mor's charms outspeed your skiing? Were the rocket wrists really
Nalgron's, reaching from Hell? What's that ahead?_
That was a hulking shoulder skidded around. He lay over on his
right side as the white edge to his left narrowed. The edge held.
Beyond it, on the opposite wall of the widening canyon, he saw a tiny
streak of flame. Hringorl still had his torch, as he galloped down the
New Road dragging Harrax? Fafhrd lay over again to his right as the
Old Road curved farther that way in a tightening turn. The sky reeled.
Life demanded that he lie still farther over, braking to a stop. But Death
was still an equal player in this game. Ahead was the intersection
where Old and New Road met. He must reach it as soon as Vellix and
Vlana in their sleigh. Speed was the essence. Why? He was uncertain.
New curves ahead.
By infinitesimal stages the slope grew less. Snow-freighted
treetops thrust from the sinister depths -- to the left -- then shot up to
either side. He was in a flat black tunnel. His progress became
soundless as a ghost's. He coasted to a stop just at the tunnel's end.
His numb fingers went up and feather-touched the bulge of the star-
born blister on his cheek. Ice needles crackled very faintly inside the
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Click here to buy
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blister.
No other sound but the faint tinkle of the crystals growing all
around in the still, damp air.
Five paces ahead of him, down a sudden slope, was a bulbous roll
bush weighted with snow. Behind it crouched Hringorl's chief lieutenant
Hrey -- no mistaking that pointed beard, though its red was gray in the
moonlight. He held a strung bow in his left hand.
Beyond him, two dozen paces down slope, was the fork where
New and Old Road met. The tunnel going south through the trees was
blocked by a pair of roll bushes higher than a man's head. Vellix' and
Vlana's sleigh was stopped short of the pile, its two horses great
loomings. Moonlight struck silvery manes and silvery bushes. Vlana sat
hunched in the sleigh, her head fur-hooded. Vellix had got down and
was casting the roll bushes out of the way.
Torchlight came streaking down the New Road from Cold Corner.
Vellix gave up his work and drew his sword. Vlana looked over her
shoulder.
Hringorl galloped into the clearing with a laughing cry of triumph,
and threw his torch high in the air, reined his horse to a stop behind the
sleigh. The skier he towed -- Harrax -- shot past him and halfway up
the slope. There Harrax braked to a stop and stooped to unlace his
skis. The torch came down and went out sizzling.
Hringorl dropped from his horse, a fighting axe ready in his right
hand.
Vellix ran toward Hringorl. Clearly he understood that he must
dispose of the giant pirate before Harrax got off his skis or he would be
fighting two at once. Vlana's face was a small white mask in the
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Click here to buy
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moonlight as she half lifted from her seat to stare after him. The hood
fell back from her head.
Fafhrd could have helped Vellix, but he still hadn't made a move to
unlash his skis. With a pang -- or was it relief? -- he remembered he'd
left his bow and arrows behind. He told himself that he should help
Vellix. Hadn't he skied down here at incalculable risk to save the
Venturer and Vlana, or at least warn them of the ambush he had
suspected ever since he'd seen Hringorl whirl his torch on the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl akte20.pev.pl
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Click here to buy
Click here to buy
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mine!"
Fafhrd shoved again with the sputtering rockets. Cold air whipped
his face. He barely felt it. The moonlit lip of the jump was close ahead.
He felt its up-curve. Beyond it, darkness. Eight, nine...
He hugged the rockets fiercely to his sides, under his elbows, and
was flying through darkness. Eleven, twelve...
The rockets did not fire. The moonlight showed the opposite wall
of the canyon rushing toward him. His skis were directed at a point just
beneath its top and that point was steadily falling. He tilted the rockets
down and hugged them more fiercely still.
They fired. It was as if he were clinging to two great wrists that
were dragging him up. His elbows and sides were warm. In the sudden
glare the rock wall showed close, but now below. Sixteen, seventeen...
He touched down smoothly on the fair crust of snow covering the
Old Road and hurled the rockets to either side. There was a double
thunderclap and white stars were shooting around him. One smote and
stung, then tortured his cheek as it died. There was time for the one
great laughing thought, _I depart in a burst of glory_.
Then no time for large thoughts at all, as he gave all his attention
to skiing down the steep slope of the Old Road, now bright in the
moonlight, now pitch black as it curved, crags to the right, a precipice
to his left. Crouching and keeping his skis locked side to side, he
steered by swaying his hips. His face and his hands grew numb.
Reality was the Old Road hurled at him. Tiny bumps became great
jolts. White rims came close. Black shoulders threatened.
Deep, deep down there were thoughts nevertheless. Even as he
strained to keep all his attention on his skiing, they were there. _Idiot,
a
a
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T
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n
s
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F
F
f
f
o
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D
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r
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P
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Y
Y
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Y
Y
r
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B
2
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.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
B
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Y
B
B
r r
you should have grabbed a pair of sticks with the rockets. But how
would you have held them when casting aside the rockets? In your
pack? -- then they'd be doing you no good now. Will the fire-pot in your
pouch prove more worthwhile than sticks? You should have stayed
with Mara. Such loveliness you'll never see again. But it's Vlana you
want. Or is it? How, with Vellix? If you weren't so cold-hearted and
good, you'd have killed Vellix in the stable, instead of speeding to --
Did you truly intend killing yourself? What do you intend now? Can
Mor's charms outspeed your skiing? Were the rocket wrists really
Nalgron's, reaching from Hell? What's that ahead?_
That was a hulking shoulder skidded around. He lay over on his
right side as the white edge to his left narrowed. The edge held.
Beyond it, on the opposite wall of the widening canyon, he saw a tiny
streak of flame. Hringorl still had his torch, as he galloped down the
New Road dragging Harrax? Fafhrd lay over again to his right as the
Old Road curved farther that way in a tightening turn. The sky reeled.
Life demanded that he lie still farther over, braking to a stop. But Death
was still an equal player in this game. Ahead was the intersection
where Old and New Road met. He must reach it as soon as Vellix and
Vlana in their sleigh. Speed was the essence. Why? He was uncertain.
New curves ahead.
By infinitesimal stages the slope grew less. Snow-freighted
treetops thrust from the sinister depths -- to the left -- then shot up to
either side. He was in a flat black tunnel. His progress became
soundless as a ghost's. He coasted to a stop just at the tunnel's end.
His numb fingers went up and feather-touched the bulge of the star-
born blister on his cheek. Ice needles crackled very faintly inside the
a
a
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T
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F
F
f
f
o
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D
D
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r
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P
m
m
Y
Y
e
e
Y
Y
r
r
B
B
2
2
.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
B
B
Y
Y
B
B
r r
blister.
No other sound but the faint tinkle of the crystals growing all
around in the still, damp air.
Five paces ahead of him, down a sudden slope, was a bulbous roll
bush weighted with snow. Behind it crouched Hringorl's chief lieutenant
Hrey -- no mistaking that pointed beard, though its red was gray in the
moonlight. He held a strung bow in his left hand.
Beyond him, two dozen paces down slope, was the fork where
New and Old Road met. The tunnel going south through the trees was
blocked by a pair of roll bushes higher than a man's head. Vellix' and
Vlana's sleigh was stopped short of the pile, its two horses great
loomings. Moonlight struck silvery manes and silvery bushes. Vlana sat
hunched in the sleigh, her head fur-hooded. Vellix had got down and
was casting the roll bushes out of the way.
Torchlight came streaking down the New Road from Cold Corner.
Vellix gave up his work and drew his sword. Vlana looked over her
shoulder.
Hringorl galloped into the clearing with a laughing cry of triumph,
and threw his torch high in the air, reined his horse to a stop behind the
sleigh. The skier he towed -- Harrax -- shot past him and halfway up
the slope. There Harrax braked to a stop and stooped to unlace his
skis. The torch came down and went out sizzling.
Hringorl dropped from his horse, a fighting axe ready in his right
hand.
Vellix ran toward Hringorl. Clearly he understood that he must
dispose of the giant pirate before Harrax got off his skis or he would be
fighting two at once. Vlana's face was a small white mask in the
a
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f
f
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m
m
Y
Y
e
e
Y
Y
r
r
B
B
2
2
.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
B
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Y
Y
B
B
r r
moonlight as she half lifted from her seat to stare after him. The hood
fell back from her head.
Fafhrd could have helped Vellix, but he still hadn't made a move to
unlash his skis. With a pang -- or was it relief? -- he remembered he'd
left his bow and arrows behind. He told himself that he should help
Vellix. Hadn't he skied down here at incalculable risk to save the
Venturer and Vlana, or at least warn them of the ambush he had
suspected ever since he'd seen Hringorl whirl his torch on the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]