Read Online The Wildside Book of Fantasy: 20 Great Tales of Fantasy by Fritz Leiber, Gene Wolfe, Robert E. Howard, Paul di Filippo, Lin Carter, Tanith Lee, Clark Ashton Smith, E. Hoffmann Price, Thomas Burnett Swann, Brian Stableford, John Gregory Betancourt, Brian McNaughton, Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Lawrence Watt-Evans, Clive Jackson, Darrell Schwetizer, Achmed Abdullah - Free Book Online
Authors: Fritz Leiber, Gene Wolfe, Robert E. Howard, Paul di Filippo, Lin Carter, Tanith Lee, Clark Ashton Smith, E. Hoffmann Price, Thomas Burnett Swann, Brian Stableford, John Gregory Betancourt, Brian McNaughton, Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Lawrence Watt-Evans, Clive Jackson, Darrell Schwetizer, Achmed Abdullah
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had snatched Astyanax out of the arms of Vel and fought the Black Rats without flinching, moved very close to each other.
“Don’t sail near the jungle,” the captain continued. “Hippogriffs lurk in the branches and might mistake your mast for a tree. I urge you to turn back at once—or sail northward, where the men are human even if they paint themselves blue. Why, half your crew are children!”
Frey and Balder looked offended. I hurried to add, “They’re experienced seamen.”
“What is experience against camelopards? It doesn’t keep you from getting eaten, and your slaves, if I may say so, look particularly edible.” To a dark Carthaginian, yellow hair was a marvel. “May Tanit go with you!”
The galley receded, dwindled to a far sea bird skimming the waves. An alien wind puffed our sail and bore us, foolish, frightened, and adventuresome, out of the Inner Sea, which, though large, held friendly ports and courteous captains, and into the stream of Ocean.
* * * *
After the warning of the Carthaginian captain, we had looked for beasts in the shape of monsters. Thus, we were not prepared for a creature so beautiful that Frey, staring, almost fell into the sea and Balder had to catch him by his feet. Then they stood side by side, arms on each other’s shoulders, and stared at the marvel with all the mute wonder of boys whose world had been a narrow peninsula; and I, the experienced traveler, pressed beside them with Aruns and Astyanax.
A forest of sun-drenched cedar trees, like tall green torches, flared into the sky, and the creature—I hesitate to call her a bird—trembled down from the treetops and strutted ostentatiously along a rock-strewn beach, as if to flaunt her orange fires against the dusky forest.
“It must be a phoenix,” I said. “The rarest bird in the world. Yet she isn’t even trying to hide.” I should have suspected a reason behind such boldness. “There’s a cove ahead. Shall we go ashore for a look?”
“I’ll stay aboard,” said Astyanax. “I would hold you back.” He wriggled across the deck and collected a rope which lay at the foot of the mast. “Here,” he said to Balder. “Capture the phoenix. Or else bring me a feather.”
Aruns agreed to stay on the ship with Astyanax. They watched from the deck as we paddled ashore in our dinghy, while Atthis swam in our wake and called goodbye with a whistle. I hated to exclude them from our promised adventure.
Hushed in our boat, we watched the phoenix strut like a queen of Carthage, decked in the barbarous colors of the south. The long graceful legs, black as onyx, the curving, swan-like neck, the plumage billowing a fountain of orange fire: here in truth was the fabled bird of the poets, the bird, so they sang, who ignited her own nest and, perishing among the spicy leaves, arose reborn from the ashes.
We stepped ashore on crumbling coral and broken shells.
“Ah,” sighed Frey. “She is going.”
A brazen queen to the last, unhurried and unembarrassed, she turned from the beach and stalked among the trees. Well, we had not expected her to wait for us.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, beyond the beach and a range of grassy hillocks, the cedar trees chattered with sunbirds, iridescent blue, purple, and green; and little oval nests; with porchlike roofs projecting above their entrances, hung from the branches. The birds were not singing; curious, expectant, altogether fearless, they seemed to be watching us. There was something malevolent about their watchfulness. It seemed that they almost wanted us to capture the phoenix, whose brilliant plumage eclipsed their lesser fires.
We entered the woods where the orange feathers had flickered into green shadows. Fallen needles crunched beneath our sandals and patches of undergrowth pricked us with thorns and burrs. The wide-spreading cedars, clustering needles and cones, broke the sunlight into pools and rivers, and aromatic fragrances tingled in our nostrils. A
“Don’t sail near the jungle,” the captain continued. “Hippogriffs lurk in the branches and might mistake your mast for a tree. I urge you to turn back at once—or sail northward, where the men are human even if they paint themselves blue. Why, half your crew are children!”
Frey and Balder looked offended. I hurried to add, “They’re experienced seamen.”
“What is experience against camelopards? It doesn’t keep you from getting eaten, and your slaves, if I may say so, look particularly edible.” To a dark Carthaginian, yellow hair was a marvel. “May Tanit go with you!”
The galley receded, dwindled to a far sea bird skimming the waves. An alien wind puffed our sail and bore us, foolish, frightened, and adventuresome, out of the Inner Sea, which, though large, held friendly ports and courteous captains, and into the stream of Ocean.
* * * *
After the warning of the Carthaginian captain, we had looked for beasts in the shape of monsters. Thus, we were not prepared for a creature so beautiful that Frey, staring, almost fell into the sea and Balder had to catch him by his feet. Then they stood side by side, arms on each other’s shoulders, and stared at the marvel with all the mute wonder of boys whose world had been a narrow peninsula; and I, the experienced traveler, pressed beside them with Aruns and Astyanax.
A forest of sun-drenched cedar trees, like tall green torches, flared into the sky, and the creature—I hesitate to call her a bird—trembled down from the treetops and strutted ostentatiously along a rock-strewn beach, as if to flaunt her orange fires against the dusky forest.
“It must be a phoenix,” I said. “The rarest bird in the world. Yet she isn’t even trying to hide.” I should have suspected a reason behind such boldness. “There’s a cove ahead. Shall we go ashore for a look?”
“I’ll stay aboard,” said Astyanax. “I would hold you back.” He wriggled across the deck and collected a rope which lay at the foot of the mast. “Here,” he said to Balder. “Capture the phoenix. Or else bring me a feather.”
Aruns agreed to stay on the ship with Astyanax. They watched from the deck as we paddled ashore in our dinghy, while Atthis swam in our wake and called goodbye with a whistle. I hated to exclude them from our promised adventure.
Hushed in our boat, we watched the phoenix strut like a queen of Carthage, decked in the barbarous colors of the south. The long graceful legs, black as onyx, the curving, swan-like neck, the plumage billowing a fountain of orange fire: here in truth was the fabled bird of the poets, the bird, so they sang, who ignited her own nest and, perishing among the spicy leaves, arose reborn from the ashes.
We stepped ashore on crumbling coral and broken shells.
“Ah,” sighed Frey. “She is going.”
A brazen queen to the last, unhurried and unembarrassed, she turned from the beach and stalked among the trees. Well, we had not expected her to wait for us.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, beyond the beach and a range of grassy hillocks, the cedar trees chattered with sunbirds, iridescent blue, purple, and green; and little oval nests; with porchlike roofs projecting above their entrances, hung from the branches. The birds were not singing; curious, expectant, altogether fearless, they seemed to be watching us. There was something malevolent about their watchfulness. It seemed that they almost wanted us to capture the phoenix, whose brilliant plumage eclipsed their lesser fires.
We entered the woods where the orange feathers had flickered into green shadows. Fallen needles crunched beneath our sandals and patches of undergrowth pricked us with thorns and burrs. The wide-spreading cedars, clustering needles and cones, broke the sunlight into pools and rivers, and aromatic fragrances tingled in our nostrils. A
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