Read Online The Ancient Enemy by Christopher Rowley - Free Book Online
Authors: Christopher Rowley
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approached.
Thru unstrung the arrow, put it in his quiver, and shipped the bow over his shoulder. He cut the rope with his knife and led the donkey past the pyluk. It wanted to bolt, but could not even raise a snort for some reason. More magic, he assumed.
Now they went past the two pyluk who were supposed to be on watch. Meu lay on the ground, wrists and ankles bound, breathing harshly.
Thru stopped the donkey and shook his friend to awareness.
Meu gasped at the touch. He opened his mouth and let his lips slip into a snarl as he struggled to contain any sound.
Thru waited. Meu got himself under control. "They broke my arm," Meu whispered.
Thru winced. "Have to get you on the donkey; can you stand?"
"Don't know. Think so. They didn't break my legs."
Thru cut Meu's bonds. Meu grunted a couple of times as Thru helped him sit up and get to his knees. Standing took another big effort, but at last he was up.
Thru held the donkey's head while Meu used his good arm to help pull himself across the donkey's back. He sobbed from the pain, but managed to get himself in position with one leg on either side. Thru led the donkey back past the two pyluk, out of the temple precinct, and onto the trail off the hilltop. None of the pyluk stirred.
Utnapishtim remained behind, his hand held out before him as if he were blessing the pyluk where they slept.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Utnapishtim sent a prayer after the young mots and the donkey, urging them to their best speed. His spell would hold the pyluk for as long as he remained close by, and for a while afterward, but pyluk were astonishingly sensitive to the presence of prey and would notice its sudden absence and awaken, despite the enchantment under which they lay.
The sound of the donkey's hooves faded, and still he held the pyluk fast, though now there were some snorts and mutters from the sleepers.
It was a lonely moment for the ancient being, and one that brought up terrible memories from the long, long ago, when pyluk were far more common in the world, and they and their dread master, Karnemin the Great, were engaged in a war to conquer the Assenzi and expunge them from the world. In that time the Assenzi had developed their sensitivity to the presence of the lizard men. Utnapishtim cursed his own failings; he had sensed them, but had lost them again in those canyons and thus been taken by surprise.
More snorts from the sleepers. He pushed away the regrets and memories and concentrated on maintaining the spell. If he could build up a sufficient lead, then the youngsters would have a good chance of getting clean away. Time passed. High above, hawks circled in the calm air, oblivious to the terrible events on the hilltop below. Some crows flew past and settled in trees farther down the slope.
The moment of decision was come. The pyluk still snored, but fretfully. The spell would hold them for a while longer, but not forever.
Carefully the Assenzi backed away, moving to the top of the trail, then turning and running as fast as his ancient legs could carry him. Sooner or later the pyluk would awake, and it would all become a question of speed. He consoled himself with the thought that at least the lizard men would not have their long spears.
As he ran, struggling for enough breath, he kept seeing the beauty of the land spread out in front of him and marveled at the terrible change that had come over his appreciation of the scene. Whereas before he had seen it as the essence of natural tranquillity under the midday sun, now it was but the backdrop to a nightmarish race against death. He also marveled at the fact that despite having lived a hundred thousand years, he was not yet ready to surrender his life. This was a question to be mulled over with Cutshamakim, if he survived.
He made the first turn on the trail and hurried down the stony track. It was imperative that he not turn his ankle there. It was going to be a close-run thing as it was, without any further difficulties.
The
Thru unstrung the arrow, put it in his quiver, and shipped the bow over his shoulder. He cut the rope with his knife and led the donkey past the pyluk. It wanted to bolt, but could not even raise a snort for some reason. More magic, he assumed.
Now they went past the two pyluk who were supposed to be on watch. Meu lay on the ground, wrists and ankles bound, breathing harshly.
Thru stopped the donkey and shook his friend to awareness.
Meu gasped at the touch. He opened his mouth and let his lips slip into a snarl as he struggled to contain any sound.
Thru waited. Meu got himself under control. "They broke my arm," Meu whispered.
Thru winced. "Have to get you on the donkey; can you stand?"
"Don't know. Think so. They didn't break my legs."
Thru cut Meu's bonds. Meu grunted a couple of times as Thru helped him sit up and get to his knees. Standing took another big effort, but at last he was up.
Thru held the donkey's head while Meu used his good arm to help pull himself across the donkey's back. He sobbed from the pain, but managed to get himself in position with one leg on either side. Thru led the donkey back past the two pyluk, out of the temple precinct, and onto the trail off the hilltop. None of the pyluk stirred.
Utnapishtim remained behind, his hand held out before him as if he were blessing the pyluk where they slept.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Utnapishtim sent a prayer after the young mots and the donkey, urging them to their best speed. His spell would hold the pyluk for as long as he remained close by, and for a while afterward, but pyluk were astonishingly sensitive to the presence of prey and would notice its sudden absence and awaken, despite the enchantment under which they lay.
The sound of the donkey's hooves faded, and still he held the pyluk fast, though now there were some snorts and mutters from the sleepers.
It was a lonely moment for the ancient being, and one that brought up terrible memories from the long, long ago, when pyluk were far more common in the world, and they and their dread master, Karnemin the Great, were engaged in a war to conquer the Assenzi and expunge them from the world. In that time the Assenzi had developed their sensitivity to the presence of the lizard men. Utnapishtim cursed his own failings; he had sensed them, but had lost them again in those canyons and thus been taken by surprise.
More snorts from the sleepers. He pushed away the regrets and memories and concentrated on maintaining the spell. If he could build up a sufficient lead, then the youngsters would have a good chance of getting clean away. Time passed. High above, hawks circled in the calm air, oblivious to the terrible events on the hilltop below. Some crows flew past and settled in trees farther down the slope.
The moment of decision was come. The pyluk still snored, but fretfully. The spell would hold them for a while longer, but not forever.
Carefully the Assenzi backed away, moving to the top of the trail, then turning and running as fast as his ancient legs could carry him. Sooner or later the pyluk would awake, and it would all become a question of speed. He consoled himself with the thought that at least the lizard men would not have their long spears.
As he ran, struggling for enough breath, he kept seeing the beauty of the land spread out in front of him and marveled at the terrible change that had come over his appreciation of the scene. Whereas before he had seen it as the essence of natural tranquillity under the midday sun, now it was but the backdrop to a nightmarish race against death. He also marveled at the fact that despite having lived a hundred thousand years, he was not yet ready to surrender his life. This was a question to be mulled over with Cutshamakim, if he survived.
He made the first turn on the trail and hurried down the stony track. It was imperative that he not turn his ankle there. It was going to be a close-run thing as it was, without any further difficulties.
The
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