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.
* Ganelon had never before seen the Illusionist’s bare hands, or for that matter, any portion of his anatomy unclothed, due to his habitually wearing a mask, robes and gloves. The Epic at this point explains that his hands, while completely human in appearance and structure, were the color of silver. Originally, this meant nothing to me, so I eliminated it from my redaction of the text at this point But in the light of something mentioned in the Third Book, it does indeed seem significant, hence I have restored it to the text at this point.
Ganelon, with a shamefaced glance at Xarda, blushed darkly crimson.
“Well, uh …”
“I see, just as I thought! For breeding purposes. And did you succumb to her wiles in that direction?”
“Well, I, uh …”
“Good! The last thing this part of Gondwane needs is a race of immortal supermen fired with ambitions of an imperial destiny. Providing she did not abstract a sample of your sperm for artificial insemination while you slept or were drugged or enchanted, she may still be after you. Red Magic, her specialty you know, works through the human aura. Her abilities to detect individual auric spectra from over a great distance may lead to a further confrontation between us. Let us hope this does not occur.”
Ganelon, happy to change the subject, inquired after Erigon and the Bazonga. The Illusionist smiled.
“Prince Erigon doubtless sleeps in his apartments here in the Red Ziggurat. The City was more than happy to employ its transmutation factories for the production of room furnishings, carpets, bedding and the like, once I explained to it that humans require such luxuries for their comforts. Hence, several apartments here in the Brain Complex have been reserved and furnished for our usage. As for the dear Bird, she is probably cruising about in the central air duct, which is as large as a wind tunnel. It amuses her to improve her flyingjskills in this manner. Now, m’ boy, I am interested in what you say about the lomagoths. The City is aware of them, of course, and wishes they would come out of the sewers and settle down in any of the houses or cottages already standing. The City will, of course, furnish these according to their wishes. It has promised to equip them with sanitation facilities and running water, now that the poor mechanism understands these human requirements. You must introduce me to the chieftain of the gypsies, so that I may attempt to coax him and his tribe to accept the accomodations the City offers … Great Galendil, what’s that?”
‘That’ was a muffled clangor and shriek—the municipal alarm system, as heard from within the central edifice.
A moment later, the loudspeakers in the Ziggurat came on and made the identical announcement which had so surprised Grrff the Tigerman on the street.
The Illusionist asked the City who or what was attacking it. In response, a large ground-glass screen lit with swirling colors which resolved themselves, by split-screen process, into a three-dimensional view of the forces striking simultaneously from the ground and from the air.
A vista of artificially-lit meadowland swam into focus, filled with stunted, scurrying green imps. Behind them, mounted on prancing white OrnithaWppi, came troops of human soldiery in red armor of curious design.
“Death Dwarves, and a back-up regiment of Red Magic soldiers,” mused the Illusionist worriedly. “That means … my prediction was correct. The Enchantress has traced you here and is making an all-out effort to recapture you!”
The split-screen showed, on its upper half, a fantastic vista of blowing clouds pierced by searchlights. A flying chariot came into view: standing therein, holding the reins in one hand, the Red Queen towered. Her glossy, darkly crimson locks flowing behind her like a tattered banner, the expression on her face was that of a vengeful Fury. The sky chariot was drawn by a matched team of green-scaled, bat-winged, two-legged wyverns.
In her right hand she bore a long iron staff with a flared tip. A spluttering red light blazed in this flared cup. When she gestured, a shower of red fireballs was sprinkled forth on the winds, drifting down to detonate with resounding bangs against the streets and buildings of the Mobile City. “I am adopting evasive tactics,” advised the City, swerving from its path to avoid the onslaught of the ground forces. But the Red Magic legion was too quick for it, and diverted their own advance to intercept Kan Zar Kan on its new course.
“Stand by for collision,” announced the City calmly.
A moment later, the forward edge of the City encountered the vanguard of the Death Dwarves and the Red Magic soldiers. The vision screen tilted its angle of vision to show what occurred at the moment of impact.
And Xarda screamed—!
27. BATTLE ON THE ENDLESS PLAIN
As the forward edge of the City came into contact with the vanguard of the Death Dwarves and the Red Magic legion, something wonderful and terrible occurred.
The dwarvish little green monsters were suddenly snatched up by an invisible force which bowled them over. Squalling and kicking furiously, they were drawn out of sight under the lip of the vast metal dish on which the City was built.
A moment later, the same irresistible force struck the Red Magic warriors. They were torn out of their saddles, some of them, and flew through the air to vanish beneath the City’s edge. Others were drawn beneath the City, Ornith and all. It was mysterious and appalling.
The City itself, no longer floating a few yards above the Purple Plain on its air cushion, now settled towards the meadow’s surface. Its undercarriage mechanisms prevented it from sinking down into the grass. Still, the lip of Kan Zar Kan stood ten feet or so above the planetary surface.
The inexplicable force continued to suck in the attacking force, underneath the Mobile City. Now, as the enormous edge of the Moon began to rise up over the horizon, and to augment by its silvery glare the illumination afforded by the City’s searchlights, the effects of the mystery force could be more clearly observed. The purple grass itself was literally being pulled out of the soil, tugging and straining at its roots in a frenzied effort to fly into the undercarriage mechanism. It was quite inexplicable.
Inexplicable, that is, to all save the Illusionist. The old magician caught on almost at once. He yowled with glee, hopping from one foot to another in a capering dance. Xarda, Erigon and Silvermane stared at him without comprehension.
“Don’t you understand, you simpletons?” the Illusionist crowed. “The air cushion upon which the City rides is reversible! Under normal circumstances, the air is drawn in the side vents by the suction of powerful fans and is thrust out beneath the City, but Kan Zar Kan has simply reversed the circulation of air. Now, it is being sucked in by the powerful fans which normally expel it. That powerful suction is the force which has irresistibly pulled the little green horrors and Zelmarine’s soldiers into the mechanism. At any moment, we may expect the City to reverse the system and we shall see the results—-ah, hah!