side, Golwyn started forward.
Uncertain and suddenly afraid, the Beast retreated. As he did so he flung a
gigantic wall of writhing green flame at the advancing humans, taking no care this
time to spare Lyssa. Colwyn gave it the back of his hand, blasting the green wall
aside and sending it curling back on itself to strike the Beast's
side.
The monster turned to flee. Colwyn struck at, its legs, bringing it crashing
to the ground. There was light in his own
eyes now, not red but starlight-brilliant. As the Beast went
down, Colwyn lavished fire upon it. Smoke rose from the body. It did not
burn like human flesh, but was consumed with great speed and fury. The corpse
contorted violently as it vanished. A great scream of pain and rage echoed
throughout the Fortress.
Then it was gone. There were no more flashing lights, no more peculiar moans
or confident threats. No more Beast.
A hand touched Colwyn's cheek as he dazedly continued to pour cleansing
flame on the spot where the Beast had fallen.
"Gentle, my love. The thing is done."
He blinked, looked over at her, then back to the severely scorched floor. He
held up his own hand, staring at the fire that burned there. "I did it, but I still
don't know how,"
"We did it, Colwyn. As you said we should. Truly that was the secret the
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Beast sought to keep from us. From all men. It failed, and from this moment on its
time on Krull is over."
Colwyn clenched his fist and watched as the flame slid slowly down his arm
to vanish between his fingers. The sand runs out, Ynyr had observed, but now
something greater had come, back to mankind. Somewhere the old man must be watching
them, and feeling very pleased with himself.
The spikes were close to touching his belly, and Torquil had made final
peace with himself when he noticed that the walls had abruptly stopped advancing.
Oswyn opened his eyes, dared to touch one of the protruding spikes. He and Torquil
exchanged anxious glances.
A dull cracking sound filled the room and a hole appeared in the far wall.
Through it they could see the hexagon of the Beast.
Oswyn pulled at his friend but Torquil hung back, staring openmouthed at the
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Alan Dean Foster - Krull
walls as they drew back to their original positions. The retreat was uneven, the
movement of the walls
occurring in fits and starts, as if a spring or some other mechanism had
failed somewhere deep within the Fortress.
The bandit leader did not rush for the exit. Instead, he slowly walked over
to kneel beside Bardolph's limp, punctured body. Reaching out and over he picked up
the golden dagger. Then he placed it back between Bardolph's clutching fingers and
closed them over the hilt.
"He was a good man. Gold was his only weakness." A chunk of ceiling came
crashing down nearby. Oswyn waited next to the miraculous gap.
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"Hurry! The walls may close in again."
Torquil stood, oddly calm. "1 think not, my friend. But I have no love for
this place. The sooner we are free of it, the better I'll like it." Another section
of roof fell in. He stepped around it and followed Oswyn.
Dust and rock fell around the embracing Lyssa and Colwyn as well. The
corridor was alive with the sounds of disintegration. Something more than cement and
nails had kept the Fortress intact. Now it was gone and the walls were coming down.
"The Fortress dies with its master. We must find Torquil and the others. My
friends." He smiled at her. "You understand: I can't abandon them."
"I would not have a man as my husband who could do so." She kissed him
gently and led him back the way they'd come when they'd fled from the Beast.
They did not have to search long. Torquil nearly bowled Colwyn over as the
two men reached the corridor intersection simultaneously. He looked past the bandit
chief, saw Oswyn and no others.
"Bardolph?"
Torquil shook his head. "Glory would have made him uncomfortable anyway. He
preferred his gold." He nodded at the rumbling walls. "A fitting tomb for a man who
never
lived in anything grander than a thatched hut. We heard the sounds of
battle, even through the walls that held us."
"The Beast is no more."
Torquil indicated the princess. "So I gathered by our sudden freedom, and
the beauty that walks beside you confirms it."
"I have learned what Ynyr did not have the time to tell me. We are free to
leave."
"We won't be if we stand here talking about how successful we've been,"
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Oswyn reminded them. He moved past Colwyn and started up the corridor.
They followed, Colwyn and Lyssa running hand in hand, Torquil guarding the
rear lest any remaining Slayers think to try and revenge their master.
Oswyn skidded to a halt, retraced his last couple of steps and pointed at
the floor. "What do you make of this?"
Colwyn bent to stare at the bloody tracks that marred the otherwise smooth
surface. Cat tracks, and a large cat by the look of it. He looked anxiously down the
corridor.
"That's Ergo. It's got to be."
"That tunnel doesn't lead outward," Torquil pointed out. "Maybe his sense of
direction's failed him."
"Maybe. They might also still be alive. Clearly he's hurt, and maybe the boy
as well. Slayers might be keeping them from fleeing back this way. Stay here and
guard the princess, my friend." Torquil nodded.
Colwyn turned to Lyssa. "These two risked their lives to help us. I can't
leave here if there's a chance they're still alive." She nodded, watching anxiously
as Colwyn and Oswyn raced down the narrow passageway, their eyes intent on the
bloody tracks marking the floor. Dust and debris rained down on her and
deep-throated rumblings sounded all around. They would have to hurry.
The two men rounded several turns before they came upon
Ergo, lying limply, his head resting in Titch's lap. Oswyn bent over him,
checking his wounds.
"Cuts and bruises, but nothing fatal." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]