[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
"AS YOU HAVE HELPED ME, SO I WILL HELP YOU. BUT I CAN
DO ONLY WHAT YOU DIRECT. YOUR MAGIC PUTS THIS SHIELD ON
MY BACK, SO MOUNT THEN, GUARDED BY ITS SUBSTANCE AND
BY YOUR OWN MAGIC, AND RIDE. SUCH A RIDE AS NO CREATURE
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
287
Alan Dean Foster
OF MERE FLESH AND BLOOD HAS EVER HAD BEFORE NOR WILL
HENCE!"
Jon-Tom hesitated. But eager hands were already -urging
him toward the equine inferno.
"Go on, Jon-Tom," said Caz encouragingly.
"Yes, go on. It must be the spellsong magic that's protect-
ing us," said Hor, "or the radiation and heat would have
fried all of us by now."
"But that little lead saddle, Hor..."
"The magic, Jon-Tom, the magic. The magic's in the
music and the music's in you. Do it!"
It was Clothahump who finally convinced him. "It is all or
nothing now, my boy. We live or we die on what you do. This
is between you and Eejakrat."
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"I wish it wasn't. I wish to God I was home. I wish.. .ahhh,
fuck it. Let's go!"
He could not see a barrier shielding the streaming nuclear
material that was the substance of M'nemaxa, but one had to
be present, as Hor had so incontrovertibly pointed out. He
cradled the battered duar against his chest. That barrier had
momentarily lapsed when M'nemaxa had touched down, and
a thousand tons of solid rock had run like butter. If it lapsed
again, there would not even be ashes left of him.
A series of stirrups led to the saddle, which was much
larger up close than it had appeared from a distance. He
mounted carefully, feeling neither heat nor pain but watching
fascinated as tiny solar prominences erupted from M'nemaxa's
epidermis only inches from his puny human skin.
It was little different in the saddle, though he could feel
some slight heat against his face and hands.
"Just a minim, guv'," said a voice. A small gray shape
had bounded into the saddle behind him.
"Mudge? It's not necessary. Either I'll make it or I
won't."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
288
THE HOUR Or THE GATE
"Shove it, mate. I've been watchin' you ever since you
stuck your nose int' me business. You don't think I could let
you go off on your own now, do you? Somebody's got t'
watch out for you. This great flippin' flamin' beastie can't be
'urt, but a good archer might pick you off 'is back like a
farmer pluckin' a bloomin' apple." He notched an arrow into
his bowstring and grinned beneath his whiskers.
Jon-Tom couldn't think of anything else to say: "Thanks,
Mudge. Mate.'i"
"Thank me when we get back. I've always wanted t' ride a
comet, wot? Let's be about the business, then."
The serpentine fiery neck arched, and the great head with
its bottomless eyes stared back at them. "COMMAND, MAN!"
"I don't know..." Mudge was prodding him in the ribs.
"Shit... giddy up! To Eejakrat!"
Whether the message was conveyed by the word or the
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
mental imagery connected with it no one knew. It didn't
matter. The vast wings seared the earth and a warm hurricane
blasted those who were beneath. Those wings stretched from
one side of the canyon to the other, and the honclouders,
seeing it race toward mem, scattered like gnats.
A swarm of dragonfly fighters rose to meet them, the
Empress' private aerial guard. They attacked with the mind-
less but admirable courage of their kind.
Mudge's bow began its work. The soldiers riding me
dragonflies fell from their mounts and none of their arrows
reached the sun riders. Those that were launched impacted on
me body or wings or neck of M'nemaxa and were vaporized
with the briefest of sizzling sounds.
"Hy past them!" Jon-Tom ordered. "Down, over there!"
He gestured toward the blunt butte rising fingeriike near the
rear of the Pass. Beyond lay the mists of the Greendowns.
Jon-Tom's attention shifted to concentrate on a single
figure standing before a pile of materials and a semicircle of
289
Alan Dean Foster
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
metal forms. Dragonflies and riders tried to break through to
do battle with swords, but wings and hooves touched them,
and their charred remnants fell earthward like so many sizzling
lumps of smoking charcoal.
The imperial bodyguard sent a storm of arrows upward.
Not one passed the belly of that flaming body. Jon-Tom was
watching Eejakrat. He held his own spear-staff tightly, ready
to pierce the sorcerer through.
Then his attention was diverted. In the air above the
computer floated two faintly glowing pieces of stone. They
were so tiny he noticed them only because of their glow.
Behind the sorcerer danced the fearful, iridescent green shape
of the Empress Skrritch. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl ocenkijessi.opx.pl
"AS YOU HAVE HELPED ME, SO I WILL HELP YOU. BUT I CAN
DO ONLY WHAT YOU DIRECT. YOUR MAGIC PUTS THIS SHIELD ON
MY BACK, SO MOUNT THEN, GUARDED BY ITS SUBSTANCE AND
BY YOUR OWN MAGIC, AND RIDE. SUCH A RIDE AS NO CREATURE
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
287
Alan Dean Foster
OF MERE FLESH AND BLOOD HAS EVER HAD BEFORE NOR WILL
HENCE!"
Jon-Tom hesitated. But eager hands were already -urging
him toward the equine inferno.
"Go on, Jon-Tom," said Caz encouragingly.
"Yes, go on. It must be the spellsong magic that's protect-
ing us," said Hor, "or the radiation and heat would have
fried all of us by now."
"But that little lead saddle, Hor..."
"The magic, Jon-Tom, the magic. The magic's in the
music and the music's in you. Do it!"
It was Clothahump who finally convinced him. "It is all or
nothing now, my boy. We live or we die on what you do. This
is between you and Eejakrat."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"I wish it wasn't. I wish to God I was home. I wish.. .ahhh,
fuck it. Let's go!"
He could not see a barrier shielding the streaming nuclear
material that was the substance of M'nemaxa, but one had to
be present, as Hor had so incontrovertibly pointed out. He
cradled the battered duar against his chest. That barrier had
momentarily lapsed when M'nemaxa had touched down, and
a thousand tons of solid rock had run like butter. If it lapsed
again, there would not even be ashes left of him.
A series of stirrups led to the saddle, which was much
larger up close than it had appeared from a distance. He
mounted carefully, feeling neither heat nor pain but watching
fascinated as tiny solar prominences erupted from M'nemaxa's
epidermis only inches from his puny human skin.
It was little different in the saddle, though he could feel
some slight heat against his face and hands.
"Just a minim, guv'," said a voice. A small gray shape
had bounded into the saddle behind him.
"Mudge? It's not necessary. Either I'll make it or I
won't."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
288
THE HOUR Or THE GATE
"Shove it, mate. I've been watchin' you ever since you
stuck your nose int' me business. You don't think I could let
you go off on your own now, do you? Somebody's got t'
watch out for you. This great flippin' flamin' beastie can't be
'urt, but a good archer might pick you off 'is back like a
farmer pluckin' a bloomin' apple." He notched an arrow into
his bowstring and grinned beneath his whiskers.
Jon-Tom couldn't think of anything else to say: "Thanks,
Mudge. Mate.'i"
"Thank me when we get back. I've always wanted t' ride a
comet, wot? Let's be about the business, then."
The serpentine fiery neck arched, and the great head with
its bottomless eyes stared back at them. "COMMAND, MAN!"
"I don't know..." Mudge was prodding him in the ribs.
"Shit... giddy up! To Eejakrat!"
Whether the message was conveyed by the word or the
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
mental imagery connected with it no one knew. It didn't
matter. The vast wings seared the earth and a warm hurricane
blasted those who were beneath. Those wings stretched from
one side of the canyon to the other, and the honclouders,
seeing it race toward mem, scattered like gnats.
A swarm of dragonfly fighters rose to meet them, the
Empress' private aerial guard. They attacked with the mind-
less but admirable courage of their kind.
Mudge's bow began its work. The soldiers riding me
dragonflies fell from their mounts and none of their arrows
reached the sun riders. Those that were launched impacted on
me body or wings or neck of M'nemaxa and were vaporized
with the briefest of sizzling sounds.
"Hy past them!" Jon-Tom ordered. "Down, over there!"
He gestured toward the blunt butte rising fingeriike near the
rear of the Pass. Beyond lay the mists of the Greendowns.
Jon-Tom's attention shifted to concentrate on a single
figure standing before a pile of materials and a semicircle of
289
Alan Dean Foster
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
metal forms. Dragonflies and riders tried to break through to
do battle with swords, but wings and hooves touched them,
and their charred remnants fell earthward like so many sizzling
lumps of smoking charcoal.
The imperial bodyguard sent a storm of arrows upward.
Not one passed the belly of that flaming body. Jon-Tom was
watching Eejakrat. He held his own spear-staff tightly, ready
to pierce the sorcerer through.
Then his attention was diverted. In the air above the
computer floated two faintly glowing pieces of stone. They
were so tiny he noticed them only because of their glow.
Behind the sorcerer danced the fearful, iridescent green shape
of the Empress Skrritch. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]