In the Green Star's Glow
- Автор: Картер Лин Спрэг
- Серия: Green Star Rises #5
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «In the Green Star's Glow». Краткое содержание книги:
But he was also an Earthling, whose helpless body lay in suspended animation in a guarded mansion in New England. It was his alien mind that drove Karn through perils that no other wold dare...
In the Green Star's Glow is a science fantasy novel in the tradition of Edgar Rice Burroughs. Written by American author Lin Carter, it is the final book in his Green Star series. It was first published in 1976.
It would have been a simple matter, had they but directed me to open the tail storage compartment for them, of course, but they gave me no such orders. I presume it was but another example of their fierce bias against my sex; to have instructed me to open the compartment for them would have been to admit openly that they did not know how the lock worked. This admission, I suppose, would have damaged their imagined superiority over all males. So they had to work it out for themselves.
When they did so, the girls had a holiday with my stores and provisions.
Before leaving the royal isle of Komar I had, you will remember, stocked my vehicle with meats, jellies, fruit, and pastry, and the peculiar purple cheeselike concoction which the Komarians regard as a rare delicacy.
These were not exactly the most ideal provisions imaginable for a journey, but were all that I had ready access to in my hurry to be off following the trail of Niamh, Zorak, and Delgan. I had, quite simply, plundered the foodstuffs from the leftovers that remained after the wedding-feast of Prince Janchan and the Goddess Arjala.
Since the savage girls subsisted largely on the fruits and nuts and berries of the forest, leavened out with occasional huoma meat, this festive fare from the banquet tables of Komar was a welcome treat to them. That evening they made a feast in the largest of the huts.
If you recall my description of the events leading up to my hasty departure from the island of the Komarians, you will also remember that, in lieu of any other drinkables, I stocked the skysled with several bottles of the effervescent golden wine of Komar.
This delicacy, in particular, delighted the palate of the little savages… and led to the crisis I had so long foreseen, while remaining powerless to circumvent.
The girls got drunk!
The only fluids they had imbibed in recent months had been rainwater and dew, collected from the curled upper surfaces of the enormous leaves that sheltered their encampment from any chance observation. The water was pure and clear and drinkable enough, to be sure, but somewhat lacking in flavor.
The golden wine of Komar, however, was quite another matter.
As they drank deep of the potent beverage, their faces grew flushed, their eyes began to sparkle, their behavior became raucous, and a mood of hilarity dominated the festive board.
In particular, it was their thirteen-year-old leader, Varda, who drank most deeply of the intoxicant. Her color deepened under the influence of the delicious wine, her eyes became humid, her movements languid yet tense, feverish, and sensual.
One by one the little girls wearied of singing and frolicking and squabbling. The wine had gone directly to their heads, which was not surprising, since in all likelihood it was the first strong drink they had enjoyed in the three quarters of a year or more since they had managed to escape from the slaver’s camp.
It occurred to me that I might very possibly turn this event to my own advantage. That is, if the savage girls got drunk enough they might sleep so soundly that I could break free without being discovered. Then all I had to do was find my way back to the skysled and fly away to freedom.
It was certainly worth a try.
However, the wine had a somewhat different effect on my girl captors than the one I had hoped for.
One by one, the littler girls became woozy, then sleepy and went off to their sleeping-furs. Eventually I was left alone with Varda.
The wine she had imbibed heightened the color in her cheeks and put a vivacious sparkle in her eyes. It also heated her blood.
“Come here, slave,” she snarled, tugging at my leash. She brought me over to where she sat, or rather sprawled, and forced me to my knees before her. Then she looked me over carefully, thoughtfully, a feverish glitter in her eyes that I did not like.
“For a man-cub, you’re not at all bad-looking,” the girl said hoarsely. She licked her lips, glancing about almost guiltily, as if to make certain we were unobserved.
I said nothing.
Then she bent forward suddenly, seized a handful of my yellow hair, tugged my head back, and kissed me. When I resolutely failed to respond to her kiss, she wrapped her arms about my neck and kissed me again, this time more deeply.
She broke off the kiss, gasping, to peer around, again as if half fearful we were being observed.
I did not like the languid glow in her eye, nor the way she moistened her lips with the small pointed tip of her soft pink tongue.
I opened my mouth, about to protest, but before I could say a word the girl abandoned all pretense and flung herself upon me, covering my face and throat with hot, panting kisses. Her warm, lithe, body pressed against me in a frenzy, and her feverish, trembling caresses were curiously intermingled with sobbing endearments.
She behaved as if possessed. As I failed to respond, and strove to maintain a clear head, remaining adamant to her entreaties, her trembling caresses turned into slaps and blows. Sobbing wildly, tearful eyes gleaming through her disordered tresses, she scratched me like a wildcat and pummeled me unmercifully.
Finally, she collapsed against me, weeping as if her childish heart were broken.
I had striven with all the fortitude within me to avoid responding to her warm and wild caresses, turning my thoughts to Niamh my beloved, and ignoring her entreaties as I ignored her curses. Throughout this humiliating ordeal, then, I had managed, however barely, to remain aloof and unaroused, although I must confess my hot young blood raged within me. The girl was savagely exciting in her disheveled, animal passion. But my heart belonged to another, and I resisted her seductive enticements with might and main.
And then it was that I saw the face at the window.
For the purposes of ventilation, square openings had been cut in the bark-slab walls of Varda’s cabin, and sections of dead yellow leaves hung over these, propped open by lengths of twig to permit the circulation of air.
The white face that peered in at us from the square of blackness had evidently observed us for some time. It was pale, wide-eyed, distraught. Scorn and cold fury and the awful gleam of vengeance was visible in the green eyes, and the mouth was curled in a fierce, gloating smile of vindictive triumph.
Only for a moment did the face hang there before it vanished. But in that moment the shock of finding ourselves observed made me stiffen my body, and when I did so, Varda, whose arms were clasped about my neck, raised her head and looked at the window.
She gasped in horror—for the face at the window had been the face of Iona.
20.
The Moment of Truth
Varda gasped and sprang to her feet, staring wild-eyed at the window. But the white, scornful face of Iona was no longer there. The girl ran over to the door, ripped it open, and stared out into the night. There was no sign of the eavesdropper to be seen, apparently.
Varda returned listlessly to the cabin and sagged wearily against the table. Her face was drained, empty;
“I think she saw us,” she whispered faintly.
“I know she did,” I said.
The girl’s temper flared. She turned on me, spitting viciously. “If only you had never come among us, with your vile maleness—!” she hissed, her eyes murderous.
“I did not come of my own free will,” I said reasonably. “You forced me at spearpoint.” The truth of this seemed to exhaust her spiteful temper. She nodded dully, saying nothing. Then she began to whimper; she was, after all, little more than a child.