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but Roke laughed jeeringly.
"Suits me, Low-pockets. But you and your mind-twisting magician here ain't met
a Glith before. Loaned to me, he was, by good friends up north and west of
here. We'll see how funny you think he is in a minute."
Hiero spoke for the first time, in a calm voice which nevertheless carried
easily. "I know your fine friends. Captain Roke. They are among the living
dead. The grave yawns for all of them and for this creature and for you as
well." His vibrant tone seemed to carry flat certainty.
For a second, Roke appeared to pale. If the horrid thing with him, the Glith,
was new to the company of Foam Girl, the Metz priest was equally so to him;
and despite his new amulet's protection, Roke was unsure of himself. But he
was a hardy scoundrel and rallied.
"Glad you found a voice, Whiskers. We'll mark your pretty paint in a few
seconds. Come on, Daleeth, let's get forr-ard." In a moment all was ready. The
ship fell silent, save for the creak of timbers and straining cordage as her
anchor line sawed the hawsehole. The two rogues who had rowed Roke and the
Glith over clung to shrouds above the rail by their boat's painter, eyes
glittering with excitement. A sea bird called, far off, a faint, piercing cry.
From his place to Hiero's right. Gimp shouted, "Go!" and marched forward. The
four, two and two, one to each bulwark, advanced cautiously toward one
another. This care alone would have told anyone of experience that trained
warriors were meet-
THE SEA ROVERS
221
ing. There would be no headlong rushes and novice blunderings here. Ail four
of them knew their business.
Hiero faced the Glith, and the two captains, tall and short, each other. They
met on either side of the little cabin, almost exactly amidships. A vagrant
gleam of sunshine momentarily pierced the racing clouds and illumined the foul
creature's axehead as it advanced, but aside from that, it was a thing of dead
hues, gray-scaled skin, gray garment, and lustreless eyes. Yet it was alert,
and every rippling muscle revealed power and agility. Nevertheless, it
advanced slowly, very slowly. As it came cautiously on, Hiero heard the clash
of metal to his left, where the other two had commenced. As any trained
swordsman does, he watched fixedly his foe's eyes for a sign of its
intentions.
Those eyes! Great, somber, empty pools, seeming to have no bottom. Even as he
watched, they grew larger. Larger! The Glith was no more than a few yards
away, its axe poised on its shoulder, shield lowered. And all Hiero could see
were the eyes, the round, lightless caverns of emptiness, which seemed to
swell and grow until all else faded. Far off, he heard a woman scream.
Luchare! The eyes vanished, shrunk to normal size, and the consciousness of
where he was returned. Almost too late!
Reflex and training saved Hiero. The old, retired Ranger Sergeant who had
first trained him had always stressed one point in the Abbey school of arms.
Close in! "Look," the old veteran had insisted, "always try to close in quick,
particularly if your opponent looks better than you. There's no monkey tricks
with sword or spear at someone's throat from two inches away, boys. Give luck
and plain meanness a chance!"
Hiero felt the wind of the heavy axe as he dived under it, not trying a blow,
but simply shoving with his shield's boss at Ae Glith's body. Until he was
ready and again unshaken, he Wanted no more of those eyes!
Hypnotism! No mind shield guarded against that! Roke, or perhaps the creature
itself, had been very clever. Almost, Hiero had been lured into the axe, like
a calf to the slaughter, helpless to avert the death stroke. Had not Luchare
screamed, he would iWw be dead. " ';"''" He wrestled now with the scaled thing,
his shield arm hold-
222
HIERO'S JOURNEY
ing off its axe above him, its own shield keeping his sword arm locked in
turn. It gave off a mephitic foulness, and its skin seemed to radiate a chill.
Its hissing breath was a charnel stench, but he kept his head lowered to avoid
the eyes. God, but it was strong!
Hiero summoned all his own strength and simply shoved, at the same time
springing backward. The axe fell again, but he was beyond its reach. For a
second, he faced his enemy, panting slightly, watching the pointed chin and
the shoulders, but never seeking the eyes. He crossed his shield over so that
it hid his body and lowered his short sword so that it hung at the end of his
arm. Dimly, he was conscious of the clash of arms continuing on the other side
of the cabin, but he kept his attention riveted on his foe. He heard Klootz
bellow hideously, knowing his master was in peril, but he paid no heed.
It advanced again, axe held high. Was it inviting a low thrust? he wondered.
He had trouble breaking the habit of years and never looking at the enemy's
eyes, but somehow he managed it.
Then the Glith charged. As it came, the axe came down in a sweeping stroke and
Hiero sprang back, ready to spring in again as the axe struck the deck. He had
fought few axemen, and it was almost the death of him for the second time. The
Glith's powerful arms straightened and the blade of the axe swung, cutting a
sideways arc with all its speed undiminished, straight at Hiero's knees.
This time, instinct took over and the priest leaped straight up in the air.
Even so, the follow-through of the Glith's shield arm struck his thigh, a
second after the axe itself hissed by under his feet. The impact sent him
reeling backward. The downward heave of the deck now caught him dead wrong as
he went, and he stumbled away, fighting for his feet, fetching up with a
ringing crash against the mizzenmast. With a grating cry as hideous to the
ears as its appearance was to the eyes, the Glith charged again, axe on high,
clawed toes raking the planks of the deck.
But Hiero had never quite left his feet, though now he was crouching. And this
was the chance he had been waiting for. As the Glith leaped forward, the edge
of the square brass shield, like some strange quoit, came spinning at its legs
with all the force the Metz could put behind it. When he had crossed the
THE SEA ROVERS 22j
shield over his torso moments before, Hiero had also freed the arm straps
which held it, in preparation for just this maneuver.
The skimming shield now took the brawny legs out from under the alien creature
as neatly as if it had been tripped. The Glith crashed to the deck, prostrate,
arms outflung, its noseless visage striking the wood with an audible thud.
Even as it struggled to rise, the heavy, short sword came down on its scaled
head, splitting it as a crow splits a cobnut. There was a rush of dark matter,
the great limbs twitched once, and then the foul life departed.
The priest managed to recover his shield and he ran clumsily forward past
Klootz's pen, ignoring the morse's bleating as he went to where he could still
hear the clash of steel. The strained silence of the crew and their eyes glued
to the scene up there told him that the issue was still in doubt.
It was indeed. As Hiero arrived, winded but with shield up, he saw Captain
Gimp block a high thrust of the pirate's sword and barely miss being skewered [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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