Karl Edward Wagner - Cold Light

VIP免费

2024-12-19 0 0 173.7KB 96 页 5.9玖币

侵权投诉

eBook Version: 2.1

Cold Light

Karl Edward Wagner

The assault on the ogres' stronghold had been brutal, reflected

Gaethaa as he wearily looked over the ruins. Pulling off his

silver-trimmed helmet, he ran a bleeding hand over his grimy

face, pushing the sweat-soaked blond locks from his eyes. He

squinted through the smoke that made red the sun. Inside the

fortress walls all was one chaotic turmoil of smashed and burning

buildings, seige engines—bodies of both his men and the ogres'

retainers.

He pushed a corpse from an overturned cart and sprawled onto

the vacated space. Wincing against the pain as he sucked in a

deep breath—some bruised ribs there at best, but the cuirass had

turned the sword—Gaethaa permitted himself the tired exultation

befitting a man who has brilliantly conceived and executed a

difficult task, one fully as honorable as it was dangerous.

Credit must be given to many others, to be certain. Had it not

been for the genius of the young Tranodeli wizard, Cereb

Ak-Cetee, the sorcerous flames that guarded the ogres' walls

would not have been extinguished, nor their impenetrable

obsidian gate blasted into splintered rubble. Mollyl had been

magnificent as he led the first wave through the smouldering gap

and into the full fury of the ogres' minions. And the Red Three

had very nearly succeeded in overwhelming his soldiers, even

with the failure of their spells and the rout of their servants.

Many had been smashed and torn under the huge weapons of the

seemingly invincible ogre brothers. Then Gesell, the middle

brother, fell from the poisoned arrow which Anmuspi the Archer

threaded through the visor of his helmet. And Omsell, the oldest,

was grievously wounded from a swordthrust of the dying

Malander, and as the ogre fell to his knees, Gaethaa himself had

struck his hideous head from his shoulders. That left only Dasell,

who had been knocked senseless when he tried to leap in escape

from the fortress walls. Gaethaa had ordered him bound, and now

the ogre's twelve-foot body swung in grotesque dance, as it

dangled from a gibbet overlooking the valley that he and his

brothers had so long held in terror.

Alidore approached him through the haze, his broken arm now

roughly bandaged. You did that when you blocked Omsell's axe

from splitting me, thought Gaethaa, and vowed to make his

lieutenant a generous gift from his personal portion of the booty,

although such bravery was truly a knight's duty to his lord.

"We've got it all about mopped up, milord." Alidore had

started to salute with his other hand, but decided it would look

foolish. "Looks like we've rounded together everyone still alive

inside. Not too pretty—the Red Three must have ordered all

captives slaughtered when it was obvious that we were about to

break through the wall. So that leaves us with maybe twenty

survivors that we're holding for your orders—the last of their

soldiers and servants."

"Kill them."

Alidore paused, reluctant to dispute his leader. "Milord, most

of them swear they were forced to serve the ogres. They either

obeyed their commands or were eaten like the others."

A cold note crept into Gaethaa's voice and his face was hard.

"Most are probably lying. The others deserve worse, for they

stooped to save their own lives by becoming tools for the

enslavement and destruction of their fellow men. No, Alidore,

mercy is commendable to be sure, but when you seek to destroy

an absolute evil, you must destroy it absolutely. Show mercy in

expunging a blight, and you only leave seeds to spread it anew.

Kill them all."

Alidore turned to give the order, but Mollyl had been listening

and was already loping across the court to see it carried out. He

would enjoy that, Alidore thought in distaste, then dismissed the

Pellinite from his thoughts. He addressed Gaethaa sincerely.

"Milord, you have done a really magnificent thing here today!

For years this land has lived in abject terror of the Red Three.

Most of the countryside has been stripped bare by them, and no

one can say how many captives have ended their lives as food on

the ogres' table! With their death the area can return to life once

more—its people can farm the lands and sell their wares in peace,

and travellers can enter the valleys and pass without danger. And

here—as before when I have followed you on your

missions—you will accept nothing from the people but their

gratitude!"

Gaethaa smiled tiredly and waved him to silence. "Please,

Alidore! Save eulogies for my death. I can't bear them now.

Many have died to help me in my crusade, otherwise I could

have done nothing. They are the ones who deserve your praise.

"No," and his voice was dreamy, "my only desire is to destroy

these agents of evil. It is my goal in life, and I ask nothing in

return."

Admiration glowed on Alidore's battle-weary face. "And now

that the Red Three are destroyed, what is to be our next

mission?"

Gaethaa's voice was inspired. "As my next mission I will seek

out and destroy one of the most dangerous agents of evil that

history or legend knows. Tomorrow I will ride out for the death

of a man called Kane!"

I. Where Death Has Lain

At times the awesome curse of immortality weighed on Kane

beyond all endurance. Then he was overcome with long periods

of black despair, during which he withdrew entirely from the

world and spent his days in gloomy brooding. In such dark

depression he would remain indefinitely, his mind wandering

through the centuries it had watched, while within there cried

unanswered a longing for peace. Ultimately some new diversion,

some chance of fate, some abrupt reversal of spirit, would cut

through his hopeless despair and send him forth once again into

the world of men. Then cold despair would melt before the black

heat of his defiance against the ancient god who had cursed him.

It happened that such a mood had seized Kane when he came

to Sebbei. He had just fled the deserts of Lomarn, where his

bandits had for a few months been plundering rich caravans and

laying waste to the scattered oasis towns. An ingenious trap had

cut down most of Kane's forces, and he had fled westward into

the ghost land of Demornte. Here his enemies would not follow,

for the plague which had annihilated this nation was still held in

utmost dread, and although it had struck this desert locked land

nearly two decades before, still no one entered and no one left

silent Demornte.

Dead Demornte. Demornte whose towns lie empty, whose

farms are slowly returning to forest. Demornte where death has

lain and life will no more linger. Land of death where only

shadows move in empty cities, where the living are but a handful

to the countless dead. Demornte where ghosts stalk silent streets

in step with the living, where the living walk side by side with

their ghosts. And a man must look closely to tell one from the

other.

When the great deserts of Lartroxia West and Lomarn to the

east had been carved from the earth, some freak of nature had

spared Demornte. Here, shouldered between two mighty deserts,

green land had held out against scorched sand, and a considerable

region of gently rolling hills and cool lakes had sheltered

thousands of inhabitants under its low forests. It had been as a

giant oasis, Demornte, and its people had lived pleasantly,

working their many small farms and trading with the great

caravans that crossed the deserts from east and west.

The plague had ridden with one such caravan, a plague such as

these lands had never seen. Perhaps in the faraway land from

which it had come, the people had formed a resistance to the

disease. But here in fertile Demornte it sped like the wind

throughout the green land, and thousands burned in its fevered

delirium, screaming for water they could not swallow.

Desert locked Demornte. The plague could not cross the sands,

so its fury fell fully on this peaceful world. And when it had run

its course at last, peace returned to Demornte. The land became

one vast tomb and knew the quiet of the tomb, for rarely were

there enough survivors to bury the dead. Demornte, where ghosts

stalk silent streets in step with the living, where the living walk

side by side with their ghosts. And a man must look closely to tell

one from the other.

Some few the plague had spared. Most of these gathered in

Sebbei, the old capital, and here a few hundred dragged out their

days where before 10,000 had bustled about their daily tasks. In

Sebbei the remnants of a nation gathered together to await death.

To Sebbei Kane came seeking peace. A deathless man in a

land of the dead, he was drawn by the quiet peace of the city.

Along overgrown roads his horse had carried him, past farms

where the forest was ineluctably obliterating all signs of min's

labors. He had ridden through debris strewn streets of deserted

towns, watched only by empty windows and yawning doorways.

Often he passed piles of bleached bones—pitiful relics of

humanity—and sometimes a skeleton seemed to wink and smile

knowingly, or rattle its bones in greeting. Welcome redhaired

stranger! Welcome you with eyes of death! Welcome man who

rides under a curse! Will you stay with us? Why do you ride by

so fast?

But Kane only stopped when he came to Sebbei. Through

gates left open—for who would enter? who would leave?—his

horse plodded, past rows of empty buildings and down silent

streets. But the streets were kept reasonably clear, and an

occasional house showed occupants—sad faces that stared at him

with little curiosity. None challenged him; no one asked him any

question. This was Sebbei, where one lived amidst death, where

one waited only for death. Sebbei with its few inhabitants living

in its silent shell—mice rustling through a giant's skeleton. To

Kane Sebbei seemed far more eerie than those towns peopled

solely by the dead through which he had ridden.

At the town's one operating tavern he had halted. Assailed for

a moment by the uncanny lifelessness of the city, he paused in his

saddle and licked his cold lips with tongue dry from travel. Over

his right shoulder protruded the hilt of the long sword he wore

slung across his back, and its scabbard rattled when he shook the

tightness from his corded muscles. Lightly he slid from the saddle

and entered the tavern, gazing speculatively at the incurious eyes

that greeted him. Eyes so dull, so lifeless, they seemed clouded

with corpselike glaze.

I am Kane, he had told those who drank there. His voice had

echoed loudly, for in Sebbei they speak in hushed whispers. I

have grown tired in crossing this desert, and I plan to stay here in

your land for a time, he had explained. A few had nodded and the

rest returned to their thoughts, Kane shrugged and began to ask

questions of some of the townsmen, who listlessly gave him the

answers he sought.

At length someone pointed out a faded old man who sat at a

table in one corner, his back straight but his face broken. Here

was one called Gavein, who served as Lord Mayor of Sebbei—a

somewhat ironic dignity, for his duties were few in this town of

ghosts, and prestige only a half-hearted echo of tradition. Gavein

regarded Kane without comprehension when he attempted to

explain his wishes to the mayor, but after a moment he seemed to

awaken from his reverie. There are many empty houses, he told

Kane. Take whatever you require—there are palaces or hovels,

as you please. Most of our city has remained untenanted all these

years since the plague, and only ghosts will take issue with your

occupancy. Food you may purchase here at our market, or raise

what you desire. Our needs are few these days, so you may soon

grow tired of our monotonous fare. This tavern furnishes our

amusements, if you feet inclined to such things. Stay with us then

for as long as your spirit desires. Do as you wish, for no man will

pry into your affairs. We are a dying people here in Sebbei. Our

visitors are rare and few stay for long. Our thoughts and manner

are our own, and we care not what chance brings you among us.

It is our wish only to be left alone with our thoughts. We in turn

leave you with yours. And Gavein tugged the worn folds of his

cloak closer about his thin shoulders and returned to his dreams.

So Kane wandered through the deserted streets of Sebbei,

watched by only an occasional pair of clouded eyes from the few

inhabited dwellings. At length he took residence in an old

merchant's villa, where the rich furnishings appealed to his taste

for luxury, and whose neglected gardens along a small lake

promised solace to his anguished spirit.

But he lived there not alone, for often there came to him a

strange girl named Rehhaile, whom many called a sorceress. Only

Rehhaile among those of Sebbei showed more than distracted

aloofness to the stranger who had stopped in their city. An

outsider herself, Rehhaile spent long hours in Kane's company,

and she ministered to him in many ways.

Thus came Kane to Sebbei in Demornte. Demornte where

death has lain, and life will not linger.

II. Death Returns to Demornte

Death came again to Demornte. Nine gaunt horses beat their

hooves with hollow echo through the silent streets of Demornte,

past the overgrown fields, past the empty, staring houses, past the

mocking smiles of skeletons. Death had returned to Demornte

flying varied standards—idealism, sadism, duty, vengeance,

adventure. New banners, but it was death that marched beneath

them, and the omniscient eyes of the deserted houses, of the

laughing skulls recognized death and welcomed it home.

Only nine men. Many had started, seasoned mercenaries hired

with Gaethaa's wealth, adventurers drawn by the boldness of the

mission, men of hate with festered scores to settle with Kane. But

the way had been hard, and some had fallen on the trail, others

had deserted when they thought more about the man whom they

were seeking. At Omlipttei outlaws had mistaken them for a

troop of the Lomarni guard; their ambush had slain many. And

when they at last had reached Demornte, many had not trusted

the triple spell which Cereb Ak-Cetee swore would protect them

from the dreaded plague. They had tried to desert; Gaethaa had

pronounced them traitors and thus servants of evil, and he had

ordered all deserters executed. The fight had been short and

vicious, for these were hardened warriors. At the end there were

left only Gaethaa and eight of his men to ride to Sebbei, where

Cereb Ak-Cetee's magic had shown Kane to be staying.

We are enough, said Gaethaa. We must not give this demon a

chance to escape his doom. And so they had followed him into

the ghostland of Demornte.

Gaethaa—called also Gaethaa the Crusader, the Good, the

Avenger—had fallen heir to extensive baronial estates in

Kamathae. As a boy he had spent most of his time in the

company of his family's men-at-arms. He had grown to despise

the pampered luxury and wasteful existence of his class, and to

yearn for adventures like those the men talked of by the fires. At

manhood he had resolved to use his wealth to fight the battles of

the oppressed, to seek out and destroy the creatures of evil who

preyed upon mankind. He was a fanatic in the cause of good, and

once he had recognized a center of evil, he trampled over every

obstacle that would hinder him from burning it clean. For several

years he had marched forth against petty tyrants, evil wizards,

robber barons, outlaw packs, and monsters human and inhuman.

Always he had vanquished evil in the name of good, shackled

chaos with law. And now he rode against Kane, a name that had

always fascinated him, but which he had half regarded as

legendary, until he began to realize the truth that lay in the

fantastic tales of this man. Kane would be a magnificent

challenge for Gaethaa the Crusader.

Alidore had followed him from the first. A younger son of

impoverished Lartroxian gentry, he had left home early and had

passed through Kamathae when Gaethaa was organizing his first

mission. Gaethaa's idealism was mirrored in Alidore, and the

young man had joined him with unfailing enthusiasm. Through all

of Gaethaa's campaigns he had followed faithfully and fought

bravely against all odds. Now he was Gaethaa's lieutenant and

most trusted friend. Alidore would follow wherever his lord

should lead and fight beside him with the same unfaltering zeal of

idealism.

Cereb Ak-Cetee was a young wizard from the plains of

Tranodeli. He looked like a gawking hayseed choirboy in his

silken mage's cloak, but be was very far from harmless. Cereb

needed wealth and experience before he could pursue his training

to the not inconsiderable height of his ambitions. Gaethaa had

noted the sorcerer's skill in penetrating defenses and ferreting out

fugitives, and he paid Cereb handsomely for his services.

Next in rank—although Cereb's position was

ambiguous—came Mollyl from the ill-famed island of Pellin in

the Thovnosian Empire. Mollyl was a dark man who smiled only

when another screamed in agony. His total lack of fear—perhaps

he lost it in the exultation of killing—made him indispensable to

Gaethaa in battle. Mollyl took Gaethaa's wealth, but he would

probably follow him without pay, so long as his lord offered him

new fields of delight.

Also from the Thovnosian Empire, but from the island of

Josten, came Jan. Ten years ago when Kane's pirate feet had

terrorized the island empire, Jan had seen his family butchered,

and Kane himself had chopped off his right hand when Jan had

tried to fight back against the raiders. Since then Jan had laced a

文档加载中……请稍候！
如果长时间未打开，您也可以点击刷新试试。

下载文档到电脑，查找使用更方便

5.9 玖币 0人已下载

立即下载 VIP免费下载

摘要：

eBookVersion:2.1ColdLightKarlEdwardWagnerTheassaultontheogres'strongholdhadbeenbrutal,reflectedGaethaaashewearilylookedovertheruins.Pullingoffhissilver-trimmedhelmet,heranableedinghandoverhisgrimyface,pushingthesweat-soakedblondlocksfromhiseyes.Hesquintedthroughthesmokethatmaderedthesun.Insidethefor...

展开>> 收起<<

Karl Edward Wagner - Cold Light.pdf

共96页,预览20页

还剩页未读，继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

Karl Edward Wagner - Cold Light

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: