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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Let me in! said a tiny quiet bell chime in his mind. A great peace and strength came upon him. The little
mouse, which had just touched his foot, fell over unconscious upon its side.
He knew and sensed a second presence within him a well-loved personality now a part of himself. His
eyes were opened as they had never been before and he saw that he was not alone.
He did not dare look long away from the statue, for he perceived that it was more than stone. Its outlines
were obscured by a loathsome jelly with a form that flowed and shifted and was more dreadful than
before.
The statue had eyes and they burned. It had a mouth and it spoke:
This one was warned against going underground! He was warned against falling into sin! The man is
mine! Who dares say me nay?
A gallant lithe figure, all in green, with a cithern slung upon his back, stepped up from behind to
Gwalchmai s side. He doffed his cap with the long red feather,- swept the flagstones with a low bow,
and laughed in the countenance of the horror. He threw down a little clutch of branches, as one who
hurls a gage to an enemy.
By the leaves of oak, ash, and thorn by the power of the mistletoe I, Sir Huon of Elveron, say thee
nay and am prepared to maintain my challenge with my life!
Knowing that you have no soul knowing also that death, to you, is extinction, dare you still risk all the
little that you have to stand beside this man?
The words were scornful, but Gwalchmai noticed that the writhing pseudopods avoided the green leaves.
On my honor as a Knight of Faery, I can do no less!
I have no quarrel with the Fay, but this man has plagued me far too long. He destroyed my people at
Elveron; he robbed my magician at Roncesvaux; he has confounded my plans; he has murdered my
sorcerer for your sake; he has set aside my dooms!
You will do well to have no quarrels with either of us, Oduarpa. Our magic is older than yours, and
more potent.
The thing, which had been the statue, grinned contemptuously.
That shall next be tested. You are no more than a fly in my sight. Die then!
It raised a menacing hand. It pointed a curved-claw at Huon. A ravening bolt of curdled crimson fury
shot forth at the minstrel.
An immense dripping shield was interposed to meet it. The lightning splashed harmlessly against the
protecting barrier, sank into and spread as a broad, swirling blossom of incandescence. White, pure, and
smokeless, each petal became a flame of fire.
The transformed levin spun and hummed like a giant bee. It darted upon the statue. The hairy arm drew
back.
I met you once before, Lord of the Dark Face, to your sorrow, sang a liquid, rippling voice. I can still
protect my children. Do you remember?
I remember, Spirit of the Wave! Your realm is Ocean. My power is greater upon the land than yours
can ever be. You will do well to protect yourself, square-eyed Ahuni-i, who have but one worshipper
and whose strength is small!
A dark turbulence of sooty cloud enclosed both statue and enveloping rose of flame. When it fell away,
the flame was gone. The cloud thickened and writhed along the floor.
It took shape. It was a python, a hydra, a dragon of seven heads each shape shifting into another as it
hissed, and rearing, flung itself upon the three. It seized upon the shield with massive jaws and coiled
about it.
But your power is not greater than this! A stunning crash jarred the castle as a giant hammer descended
upon the Protean monster. Its fragments coalesced into a pool of ebon particles like flowing foulness;
they united, became a hawser, a rope, a tendril that coiled and raised like a threatening cobra, swiftly to
be withdrawn into the body of the thing.
Red-bearded Thor stepped up beside the others and leaned upon his hammer in careless defiance. A
questing, single uninjured member of the pseudopod struck out at it as though to test his strength further.
Thor threw down a cluster of Rowan-berries in its path. The pseudopod avoided them as though they
were red-hot. It twisted and turned and withdrew.
The Lord of the Dark Face scowled. So there is still life in the godling! How many of the Aesir stand at
your back? How do men look upon you these last days, Shape-Changer, Trickster? Whose
worship what horse upon your altar gives you strength? As you see, I dine upon better fare! My
worshippers and I drink the Red Milk together. Strike again, if you can! I do not think you are able. I am
waiting!
Ala-la-la! Ala-la-la!
A fearsome war-cry sounded, and Gwalchmai thrilled to hear the eldritch scream of Aztlan s heroes.
Is it blows that must protect the soul of this man? Then you must face mine! You boast of your tiny
successes, you puny fool! Your little altars, hidden in dungeons; your offer-nigs that are given you in
secret and by night; your sacrificed babies!
A fearful apparition took its place in line. In the shape of a man, it towered above them all. Around its
neck it wore a necklace of skulls; upon its head a jaguar s grinning mask served as helmet; its left arm
bore a round shield fringed with hummingbird s feathers and its right hand carried a heavy wooden
sword, studded with teeth of volcanic glass.
Its armor clanked as it moved forward in menace, for this was the overlapping steel of a Roman
centurion.
I am Huitzilopochtli, God of War of the Aztlan Nation, and because I was once a man, I have not
forgotten my son! Twenty thousand hearts have been ripped from human breasts^to do me honor in a
single day. They were warrior hearts taken from captives my people conquered in battle to make me
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