Read Online King Kobold revived-Warlock-2.5 by Christopher Stasheff - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christopher Stasheff
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, adventure, Fantasy, Epic, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Space Opera
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laughing.
But they were moving so slowly! Why? Didn’t they want to reach their in-tended victims?
Then Sir Styenkov’s whole line lurched forward. Then they lurched again, and again—and, step-stumbling-step, they marched toward their butchers!
Something bumped into Rod’s shoulder. He whirled—just in time to catch Toby. The young warlock’s body was rigid, and his eyes had lost focus. Had he been tuned in on a soldier’s mind when the Evil Eye Page 34
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froze him?
Then Rod saw one of Styenkov’s soldiers slow and stop. His head lifted slowly; then he shivered, looked about him wildly, realized what had happened, set his pike on an enemy, and started marching again with grim purpose. Further down the line, another soldier began to waken, too. Rod stared down at Toby. The young idiot had found a way to get into the fight after all!
Thunder broke over them, and lightning stabbed the land again. The soldiers froze solid again, and Toby’s whole body whiplashed in a single massive convulsion; then he went limp, eyes closed.
Rod stared, appalled. Then he touched the carotid artery in the boy’s throat and felt the pulse. Reassured, he lowered the young warlock. “Fess!”
“Here, Rod.” The great black horse loomed up out of the darkness.
“Just stand over him and protect him.”
“But, Rod…”
“No ‘buts’!” Rod turned, sprinting away toward the battle-line, whipping out his sword. “Flying Legion!
Charge!”
Fess sighed, and stepped carefully over Toby’s still form, so that the young warlock lay directly beneath his black steel body.
Rod caught up with Styenkov’s line just as they began stumbling toward the beastmen again. He looked from one to another frantically; their eyes were glazed, unseeing. The beastmen began to waddle forward again, making the chugging, grating noise that passed for laughter with them. Rod whirled about, staring at them, just as they broke into a lumbering run. Rod glanced back at the stumbling soldiers, then ahead; the enemy were only huge, hulking shadows against the gray of stormclouds, great shadows looming closer.
Lightning flashed, and the beastmen roared a cheer. And Rod froze solid, but only with shock—because, for the first time, he had a really good look at a beastman. And he recognized it.
Neanderthal.
There was no mistaking the sloping forehead, the brow ridges, the chinless jaw, the lump at the base of the skull… He had an overwhelming desire to look one in the mouth and check its dentition. Then a chill hand clutched his belly. What could Neanderthals be doing on Gramarye?
Attacking, obviously. He noticed two war clubs swinging up, then starting to swing down toward him. He leaped aside just as the first whistled past him, then threw himself into a lunge, sword arrowing toward the other clubman. Its round shield swung up; the beastman caught Rod’s point neatly. For a Page 35
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moment, Rod stared directly into the little piggy eyes over the top of the shield—little piggy eyes that seemed to grow, and glow, with a bright, flaming bead at their centers that probed into his brain, leaving a trail of cold fire that didn’t burn, but froze. It fascinated; it held all his attention, numbing his brain, stopping all thought. Dimly, off to the side, he noticed the huge war club swinging up for another blow; but that didn’t matter. All that really mattered was that bright, burning bead at the center of the eyes…
A furious scream rang in his ears, blotting out the sounds of battle, a scream such as a Valkyrie might make if she were actually allowed to attack; and a sud-den warmth seemed to wrap around his mind, pushing away the bright, burning bead, away and away until it was only a pair of eyes again… the eyes of a war-rior beastman whose huge war club was windmilling down to crush
But they were moving so slowly! Why? Didn’t they want to reach their in-tended victims?
Then Sir Styenkov’s whole line lurched forward. Then they lurched again, and again—and, step-stumbling-step, they marched toward their butchers!
Something bumped into Rod’s shoulder. He whirled—just in time to catch Toby. The young warlock’s body was rigid, and his eyes had lost focus. Had he been tuned in on a soldier’s mind when the Evil Eye Page 34
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
froze him?
Then Rod saw one of Styenkov’s soldiers slow and stop. His head lifted slowly; then he shivered, looked about him wildly, realized what had happened, set his pike on an enemy, and started marching again with grim purpose. Further down the line, another soldier began to waken, too. Rod stared down at Toby. The young idiot had found a way to get into the fight after all!
Thunder broke over them, and lightning stabbed the land again. The soldiers froze solid again, and Toby’s whole body whiplashed in a single massive convulsion; then he went limp, eyes closed.
Rod stared, appalled. Then he touched the carotid artery in the boy’s throat and felt the pulse. Reassured, he lowered the young warlock. “Fess!”
“Here, Rod.” The great black horse loomed up out of the darkness.
“Just stand over him and protect him.”
“But, Rod…”
“No ‘buts’!” Rod turned, sprinting away toward the battle-line, whipping out his sword. “Flying Legion!
Charge!”
Fess sighed, and stepped carefully over Toby’s still form, so that the young warlock lay directly beneath his black steel body.
Rod caught up with Styenkov’s line just as they began stumbling toward the beastmen again. He looked from one to another frantically; their eyes were glazed, unseeing. The beastmen began to waddle forward again, making the chugging, grating noise that passed for laughter with them. Rod whirled about, staring at them, just as they broke into a lumbering run. Rod glanced back at the stumbling soldiers, then ahead; the enemy were only huge, hulking shadows against the gray of stormclouds, great shadows looming closer.
Lightning flashed, and the beastmen roared a cheer. And Rod froze solid, but only with shock—because, for the first time, he had a really good look at a beastman. And he recognized it.
Neanderthal.
There was no mistaking the sloping forehead, the brow ridges, the chinless jaw, the lump at the base of the skull… He had an overwhelming desire to look one in the mouth and check its dentition. Then a chill hand clutched his belly. What could Neanderthals be doing on Gramarye?
Attacking, obviously. He noticed two war clubs swinging up, then starting to swing down toward him. He leaped aside just as the first whistled past him, then threw himself into a lunge, sword arrowing toward the other clubman. Its round shield swung up; the beastman caught Rod’s point neatly. For a Page 35
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
moment, Rod stared directly into the little piggy eyes over the top of the shield—little piggy eyes that seemed to grow, and glow, with a bright, flaming bead at their centers that probed into his brain, leaving a trail of cold fire that didn’t burn, but froze. It fascinated; it held all his attention, numbing his brain, stopping all thought. Dimly, off to the side, he noticed the huge war club swinging up for another blow; but that didn’t matter. All that really mattered was that bright, burning bead at the center of the eyes…
A furious scream rang in his ears, blotting out the sounds of battle, a scream such as a Valkyrie might make if she were actually allowed to attack; and a sud-den warmth seemed to wrap around his mind, pushing away the bright, burning bead, away and away until it was only a pair of eyes again… the eyes of a war-rior beastman whose huge war club was windmilling down to crush
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