The Enchantress of World's End
- Автор: Картер Лин Спрэг
- Серия: Gondwane Epic #2
- Год: 101
- Язык: английский
- Год: DAW
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «The Enchantress of World's End». Краткое содержание книги:
Gondwane... When all the kingdoms of all the peoples of Earth had come and gone and new ones arose, it was on Gondwane they created their ephemeral glories.
On Gondwane, amid the turmoil of the last wars and the last quests and the last efforts of scientists and alchemists, there arose one final hero, the mighty Ganelon Silvermane.
The saga of Ganelon is the telling of master fantasist Lin Carter. And it is in the story of the Scarlet Enchantress that Ganelon first found the meaning of manhood.
He did this while keeping his face expressionless, trying not to attract the attention of the other boys who were a catty lot and loved spreading gossip and carrying tales. His heart was pounding with excitement within his breast. The very thought of escaping from this dreary place after all these years was intoxicating. Then he took one last look around the little cubicle which had been his home for so long, to see if he had left anything behind.
All around him, boys between ten and sixteen napped, played games, read, sunbathed, or cuddled with favorite toys, pets or little playmates. Few of them were friends of his, and there were only one or two whom he would particularly miss. On the whole, they were a spoiled, spiteful, effeminate lot and he was weary of them.
He left the huge open room (perhaps for the very last time!) with no regrets or good-byes. Taking seldom-used side-corridors and back-stairs, the lad made his way quickly, unobtrusively to the prison-yard, where captives less coddled than Ganelon Silvermane were sequestered. The few Red Magic sentinels he encountered along the way let him pass without question: the pert, girlishly pretty, good-natured boy was a favorite of theirs. He had long ago established a friendly, first-name relationship with most of them.
The guards stationed at the entrance to the prison-yard also thought nothing of his presence here. They were accustomed to seeing him come and go. Responding to their friendly, flirtatious sally with a coquettish jest, the lad slipped within and soon found Grrff in a sunny corner, playing a half-hearted game of dice with a couple of bored Ixlanders. The big furry fellow looked up with a happy grin as Phadia glided over to him.
“Hah, my pretty cub! Did you—hrmph—do the favor ol’ Grrff asked of you?” the Tigerman inquired, with a friendly slap on the lad’s bottom. The boy nodded brightly and came near so they could speak confidentially. At GrrfFs meaningful glare, the two gloomy Ixlanders hastily went off to continue the game elsewhere.
“The Lord Ganelon asked me where the entrance to the Cavern is,” lisped Phadia in his husky soprano. As the Tigerman pricked up his furry, pointed ears, the lad went on to describe the whereabouts of the portal which led into the hyperspatial labyrinth, and to detail Silvermane’s rough plan of escape.
“Ho! Good news, for sure,” huffed the Karjixian happily. “But when’s the day?”
“I don’t really know, sir,” the boy lisped. “Soon, though. Maybe it will even be today.” Then, dropping his thick lashes shyly, the boy whispered softly: “I am to go along, too! He promised.”
“Did he now?” rumbled the burly feline amiably. “Well, it pleases o’ Grrff to hear o’ that! You don’t belong cooped up in here; you’ve good stuff in you, cub. Better things than paint and perfume, lace and love-notes! Poor lad, it’s not your fault, Grrff knows. This is all you’ve ever known …”
The boy smiled tremulously and rose to his feet, bidding the Grrff goodbye. The other grinned, wrinkling up his muzzle, yellow eyes beaming, and gave the lad an affectionate pat on his silk-clad posterior. “Get along with you now, cub; but mind you, keep poor Grrff informed of what’s happening!”
The slender boy nodded breathlessly, waved goodbye, and left the prison-yard with a light heart.
On his way from the prison-yard, Phadia ran into a Red Magic legionnaire who was a particular friend of his, a handsome young soldier named Phlay who was fond of little boys and sometimes did small favors for tine attractive lad.
“Ah, there, my pretty pet!” the soldier grinned, giving the boy an affectionate pinch. “What’s this I hear—your favors are reserved henceforward for the big Zermishman, on orders of the Queen? ‘Twill mean heart-break for all your other admirers, I know!”
The boy smiled back. “I’ll not neglect my very special friends like you, sergeant,” he promised with a provocative flutter of long silken lashes.
“See that you don’t,” said the other, with a joking pretence of severity. “Anyhow, something tells me your friends will not long languish without their pretty Phadia!”
There was significance to his words. And something went through the boy’s slim graceful form, like ice-cold lightning. He shivered slightly.
“What do you mean, sergeant?”
“I mean the Zermish giant had another of his tete-a-tete private suppers with the Queen. He resisted her invitation to more intimate pleasures, which stung her into such a fury that she stunned him with a spell and turned him over to that sly dog, Varesco, on the spot.”
The boy swallowed, hardly able to breathe.
“Aye, the big fellow’s under the Mind Probe right now, I’ll warrant,” grinned Phlay. Tousling the lad’s blond curls with rough affection, he chucked him under the chin with a fingertip. Then he strolled off about his business, leaving Phadia pale and stiff with horror.
Book Three
THE GRANDFATHER OF ALL DRAGONS
The Scene: Shai, and the Dungeons Thereof; The Cavern of a Thousand Perils; The Half world of Faerie; Dzimdazou’s Deep.
New Characters: Hawkmen, Merfolk, Gnomes, and the Denizens of several Worlds and Planes; The Oldest of All Dragons, a Kindly Cockatrice, and a Lovesick Lady Sphinx.
15. MEETING IN THE MOUNTAINS
Erigon yelled, Xarda shrieked, the Illusionist swore! To their left, a cliffy wall of mountains blocked the world away: before them the winged monster loomed, a weird black mass etched with moonsilver.
With remarkable presence of mind, Prince Erigon kicked the pedals. Istrobian’s flying kayak skidded around in a tight half-circle, narrowly missing the monster, which hovered motionlessly on out-stretched wings.
“It’s not moving!” and “It’s the Bazonga!” exlaimed Sarda and the Illusionist, in virtually the same breath. They blinked and looked again. It was indeed the dear Bird! She floated listlessly, drifting a little in the thrust and ebb of the air-currents. Her lens-eyes were dull and lifeless, her hinged back gaped open. The old magician hailed her, but the ungainly sentient vehicle made no response.
“Look at the dent in her crest,” said the girl knight breathlessly. “Just in front of her top-knot! I do believe she has done herself an injury. Could she have flown into the cliff for some reason?”
The old magician said: “It is not at all unlikely, my child. These are the Vanishing Mountains, which form the border between the Country of the Death Dwarves and Chx, unless my sense of geography fails me.”
“You said Vanishing Mountains?” repeated the Prince of Valardus. “A curious term.”
“But singularly apt in this instance,” said the illusionist. “Sometimes they are here and at other times they are not. Please do not ask me to explain it all now! I must get aboard the dear Bird and explore the extent of her injuries. Dear me, I will never forgive myself is she has … can you bring the kayak closer to her flank and hold the craft steady while I climb into the cockpit?”
“I guess so,” said Erigon dubiously. He fiddled with the pedals; Istrobian’s flying kayak inched closer to the lifeless bronze shape until it nuzzled her sides. The magician gingerly stood up and fumbled about in order to get a firm grip on the edge of the Bazoriga’s cockpit. Xarda watched, her green eyes bright with nervousness.