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.
The seas were full of mermaids and tritons and oreads; gnomes and dwarves and trolls lived under the hills; the fairies dwelt mostly in Mommur, their ancient, immortal capitol, but there were troops and tribes of woods-elves that prefered the great green forests and made their camps therein.
Ganelon spent most of his time exploring the illimitable vastness of the Old Dragon’s cavern, or “deep” as he called it. There were many marvels there, some of which were from the Dawn of Time, and many of which had never before been seen by men. Besides Dzimdazoul, the caverns were the home of many other creatures, including an old minotaur, cranky from the gout, and an immense Piast which had come from Ireland before the first men came into Europe.
There was also a most amusing Cockatrice, who was a particular friend of the Dragon’s and who became an instant favorite of Phadia’s. This grouchy old creature, who was sort of like a reptilian rooster, lived in a small side-cave where hot sulphur bubbled up from fiery regions below: the Cockatrice, whose name was Hshenk, had formerly lived in ancient Persia. A relative of the famous Phoenix, he had inherited a tendency towards immortality on his mother’s side, and had lived long enough into the Age of Man to win a position of some importance in the mythology of Zoroaster, which was a matter of considerable pride to the grouchy old monster. He liked his sulphur-pit cave because it was always warm and dry, and he suffered from rheumatism, it seemed.
The Cockatrice taught Phadia checkers, or an ancient form of the game which had been popular with the antique Persians during the days of Sahm and Zal and Rustum. Anytime Ganelon wanted to find the lad, he would look first in Hshenk’s cave; nine times out of ten the boy would be there, lying on his stomach on some old Persian carpets, playing checkers with the Cockatrice.
Finding him there one day, Ganelon stood in the entrance to the warm cave, smiling a little at the scene. Phadia was wriggling on his rummy, kicking his heels in the air and giggling with both hands over his mouth, for he had just won another game from the old Cockatrice and the cranky old fellow was cussing a blue streak. Of course, his notion of swearing was to name half the devils in the Zoroastrian mythology, which meant nothing to Phadia, but it was funny to watch. When Hshenk got mad enough to cuss, his barbed tail curled up tight and his bright red coxcomb, which usually hung down floppily over one eye giving him a rakish air, stood stiffly erect and vibrated.
Between bursts of delighted giggling from Phadia, Silvermane could hear the creaky, shrill voice of the old Cockatrice, complaining furiously.
“Ahriman cook yer gizzard, lad, ye’ve done it again! Aeshma Daeva broil yer earlobes, you’ve done whupped me for the third time terday! Mitox and Ver-eno snatch ye bald, if I'll letcher win a fourth time … nosiree! Set ‘em up, set’em up, ye little rascal; I'll whup ye this time, Akatasha fry me if n I don’t!”
“Oh, Uncle Hshenk! You don’t really want to play another game,” protested the lad between giggles.
“Paromaiti burn me if I don’t! Set ‘em up, ye scalawag, and I'll teach ye to play real checkers! If it warn’t fer this cussed rheumatiz I’d of won ‘em all, by Zaurvan’s iron liver!”
Watching from the entrance to the cave, Ganelon studied the child with a fond eye. Even a few days away from the perfumed hothouse atmosphere of the Red Queen’s palace had brought a welcome change in little Phadia. For the last two days the boy had forgotten to put on any make-up (well, perhaps just a touch of eye-liner, but that was all), and right now he looked adorably boyish—like a real boy, that is. His blond curls were tousled and uncombed, he had a nice scratch on his knee, and his cheek was dirty with a smudge which he had carelessly wiped with the back of his hand. Ganelon regarded the boy with avuncular satisfaction: a little more of this sort of life and the stifling, constricting influence of his former life would really begin to fade, as the lad grew and changed in wholesome, boyish directions.
He hated to interrupt the happy scene, but it was time to go. He had determined that this very morning; wakening from a deep, restful sleep he had lain there looking up at the ceiling, wondering how the Illusionist Nerelon, the girl knight of Jemmerdy and Prince Erigon fared, and somehow he had known, right then and there, that this brief, pleasant respite from their adventurings was over. He said as much, as soon as Phadia and the Cockatrice looked up from their game and noticed him.
Phadia sighed, a little depressed, but made no complaints. He worshipped the great bronze giant and was used to doing what other people wanted him to do, without whining or complaining about it. Surprisingly, it was Hshenk who raised the loudest fuss about them leaving. The grouchy old fellow had become terribly attached to the little boy, but even he saw they couldn’t stay forever in Faerie: mortals could be happy here only for a time, and only to a certain extent.
“By Spenta Mainyu’s goldy crown, but I'll be sad to see ye go! This here place ain’t been half so lively in a million years, ‘afore ye folks come! Onegood thing about it: Til hafta go back to playin’ checkers wif th’ Old Dragon; and he let’s an ol’ feller win a game er two, oncet in a while! (Sniff!) Taint nothin’, boy—a cinder in me eye, likely. (Snuff!) Git along wif ye now! An’ may Holy Onnazd watch over ye lad, and yew too, big feller. Say goodbye to thet thar cat-feller fer me. (Snmff!) Carmaiti an’ Khashathra bless ‘e all.”
They had a little difficulty finding Grrff, who was up in the hills. And considerably more difficulty in persuading him to come down. It seems he had struck up a relationship with a friendly lady Sphinx who lived on a cliff-top nearby; half-human female and half-lioness, she was the nearest thing to a Tiger-woman the lonely Karjixian had met in quite a while. The love-smitten Xombolian was on the verge of proposing when Ganelon came climbing up to persuade him to come down. Their yowls of farewell set the canyons to ringing and Grrff came down slowly, grumpily, with many a languishing backwards look, refused to be consoled, and sulked for the next hour and a half.
The Old Dragon was coiled sleepily atop his mound of treasure, just where he had been when they had first encountered him.
I knew you would be going home soon, anxious to rejoin your friends, he said in his hissy, thunder-nimbly voice. I shall miss thee, manlings; aye, and mightily! So few come into Faerie in these sad, latter days …
There were presents for them all, of course: the new clothing and gear they had found beside them that first morning when they awoke, a broadsword for Ganelon, (but not an enchanted one), and a fine knife for Phadia, in a case of genuine dragonskin.* And the Old Dragon had packed a nice lunch. They made their farewells awkwardly and the boy cried.
* Dragons shed their scaly hide twice a millennium, you know, as snakes do a couple times a year. So the scabbard for Phadia’s knife was probably made from one of Dzundazoul’s own castings. (This is a speculation you will find in the Thirtieth Commentary; Bariche agrees it is more than likely correct, and even Nruntha was unable to refute it satisfactorily.)
Get along with you, now! Your friends are becoming worried as to what has happened, and you have much unfinished business to tend to. Through the archway, as before—but backwards this time, mind you! Two short steps back, then one big step to your left. Farewell, now, for a while. Mayhap we shall all meet again,another day!