Read Online Blood of Amber by Roger Zelazny - Free Book Online Page B

and watched for a time while that small segment of terrain rearranged itself and the wind smeared smoke and steam across the land.   Rocks bounced and rolled; dark carrion birds went out of their way to avoid what had to be some interesting thermals.
    Then I beheld a movement which I first assumed to be seismic in origin.   The boundary stone I had shifted rose slightly and jogged to the side.   A moment later, however, and it was elevated even farther, appearing almost as if it had been levitated slightly above the ground.   Then it drifted across the blasted area, moving in a straight line at a uniform speed, until -as nearly as I could judge-it had recovered its earlier position.   And there it settled.   Moments later the turmoil recommenced, and this time it was a jolting shrug of the ice sheet, jerking back, reclaiming the invaded area.
    I called up my Logrus sight, and I was able to make out a dark glow surrounding the stone.   This was connected by a long, straight, steady stream of light of the same general hue, extending from a high rear tower of the Keep.   Fascinating.   I would have given a lot for a view of the interior of that place.
    Then, born with a sigh, maturing to a whistle, a whirlwind rose from the disputed area, growing, graying, swaying, to advance suddenly toward me like the swung proboscis of some cloudy, sky-high elephant.   I turned and climbed higher, weaving my way amid rocks and around the shoulders of hillsides.   The thing pursued, as if there were an intelligence guiding its movements.   And the way it hung together while traversing that irregular terrain indicated an artificial nature, which in this place most likely meant magic.
    It takes some time to determine an appropriate magical defense, and even more time to bring it into being.   Unfortunately, I was only about a minute ahead of the posse, and that margin was probably dwindling.
    When I spotted the long narrow crevice beyond the next turning, jagged as a limb of lightning, I paused only an instant to peer into its depth, and then I was descending, my tattered garments lashed about me, the windy tower a rumbling presence at my back.   .   .   .
    The way ran deep and so did I, following its jogs, its twistings.   The rumble rose to a roar, and I coughed at the cloud of dust that engulfed me.   A hailstorm of gravel assailed me.   I threw myself Bat then, about eight feet below the surface of the land, and covered my head with my arms, for I believed that the thing was about to pass directly above me.
    I muttered warding spells as I lay there, despite their minuscule parrying effect at this distance against such an energy-intensive manifestation.   I did not jump up when the silence came.   It could be that the tornado’s driver had withdrawn support and collapsed the funnel on seeing that I might be out of reach.   It could also be the eye of the storm, with more to come, by and by.
    While I did not jump up, I did look up, because I hate to miss educational opportunities.
    And there was the face-or, rather, the mask-at the center of the storm, regarding me.   It was a projection, of course, larger than life and not fully substantial.   The head was cowled; the mask was full and cobalt bright and strongly reminiscent of the sort worn by goalies in ice hockey; there were two vertical breathing slits from which pale smoke emerged-a touch too theatrical for my taste; a lower series of random punctures was designed to give the impression of a sardonically lopsided mouth.   A distorted sound of laughter came down to me from it.
    “Aren’t you overdoing it a bit?” I said, coming up into a crouch and raising the Logrus between us.   “For a kid on Halloween, yes.   But we’re all adults here, aren’t we? A simple domino would probably serve-“
    “You moved my stone!” it said.
    “I’ve a certain academic interest in such matters,” I offered, easing myself into the extensions.   “Nothing to get upset