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Encar Capela.
I have heard whispers, sniggers, obscene hints about this hunt they call the Great Jikai, said Jiktar
Horan. This nulsh of a Kov of North Faol requires to see his head jumping about on the floor, by
Krun!
Tm with you in that, Horan.
Among the provisions piled into the little voller were crossbows, sheaves of quarrels, thraxters, shields,
stuxes, so that when I took off and shouted down Remberee I felt I sailed into action with a veritable
arsenal about me. This was no mere fad, no stupid overkill; every weapon might be essential. On that
beautiful yet harsh and cruel world of Kregen a man s weapons stand between him and ever-present
death.
My course lay northwest across Hamal until I reached the southernmost limit of Skull Bay, where I
would turn almost due west with just enough northing in my flight to take me over the jungles and past
Hennardrin to the island of Faol. This route avoided the difficult passage of the Mountains of the West,
where even now the armies of Hamal clashed with the wild men from the wastelands beyond. The voller
would carry me to the north of Paline Valley.
Thrusting the speed lever fully forward I let the flier pelt ahead through the thin air. The magical power
contained in the silver boxes hurtling me on was the secret that had brought me to Hamal. I had willfully
neglected that duty. I do not think I spent a pleasant flight, but I managed to doze off from time to time,
for I had not slept for many burs. By the time I reached Gilmoy and saw again that fantastic finger of
scintillating white rock thrusting upward stark into the air I had regained some little grasp on sanity.
The White Rock of Gilmoy, famed throughout Havilfar, passed away below and I headed directly for
the foul dens of the Manhounds of Faol.
It took me a complete Kregan day and night to fly from Ruathytu to Faol, and I admit I pressed the
voller harshly, the speed lever over to the full all the way.
It was a handful of burs into the morning when I slanted down over the river separating Urn Faol from
Thoth Faol. I flew on more carefully now, on the lookout for fliers above and riders below.
Below me were those places where I had run with screaming panic-stricken people about me, helpless
quarry for the vicious fangs of the jiklos, sport for the rich hunters in their Great Jikai. But there was no
time now to think of all those people, and what had become of them. Now I had to make my way into
the barred cages and caves where the people to be used as quarry were kept, and seek out Saffi, and
somehow bring her out safely.
Was that arrogant slave-master, Nalgre, still lording it over the miserable people he organized into
parties to be hunted to death? Him and his jiklo pet, the lascivious female jiklo with the red bolero jacket
and the blonde crusted hair these two symbolized the horrific power of the Jikai that used manhounds
to scent the prey, and that prey as human as the hunters, as human as the jiklos themselves!
Although, I truly believed then, the manhounds were rapidly losing the last vestiges of true humanity and
were lapsing back into primordial savagery.
Up here only a few degrees south of the equator the weather was warm enough for me to throw off the
blue shirt and trousers, to kick off the boots. Once more I was ready for action clad only in my old
scarlet breechclout, my weapons about me, a few oddments of gear in a lesten-hide purse at my waist.
Inquiries made some time ago had given me the name of the Kov of Faol s capital city, Smerdislad, but I
would avoid the place. The Kov s lands were mainly untended, agriculture existed merely on a
subsistence level, but the jungles rioted, for all his wealth came from the manhounds. In his evil hunts and
in the breeding and selling of jiklos lay his fortunes. So Smerdislad existed to bolster Encar Capela s
grandiose dreams of power and wealth; the caves and cages of the poor devils who ran shrieking from
his slavering jiklos were far removed from his glittering city.
Despite my frantic rush through the sky I had a neat and workmanlike plan arranged in my head. By [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl szkicerysunki.xlx.pl
Encar Capela.
I have heard whispers, sniggers, obscene hints about this hunt they call the Great Jikai, said Jiktar
Horan. This nulsh of a Kov of North Faol requires to see his head jumping about on the floor, by
Krun!
Tm with you in that, Horan.
Among the provisions piled into the little voller were crossbows, sheaves of quarrels, thraxters, shields,
stuxes, so that when I took off and shouted down Remberee I felt I sailed into action with a veritable
arsenal about me. This was no mere fad, no stupid overkill; every weapon might be essential. On that
beautiful yet harsh and cruel world of Kregen a man s weapons stand between him and ever-present
death.
My course lay northwest across Hamal until I reached the southernmost limit of Skull Bay, where I
would turn almost due west with just enough northing in my flight to take me over the jungles and past
Hennardrin to the island of Faol. This route avoided the difficult passage of the Mountains of the West,
where even now the armies of Hamal clashed with the wild men from the wastelands beyond. The voller
would carry me to the north of Paline Valley.
Thrusting the speed lever fully forward I let the flier pelt ahead through the thin air. The magical power
contained in the silver boxes hurtling me on was the secret that had brought me to Hamal. I had willfully
neglected that duty. I do not think I spent a pleasant flight, but I managed to doze off from time to time,
for I had not slept for many burs. By the time I reached Gilmoy and saw again that fantastic finger of
scintillating white rock thrusting upward stark into the air I had regained some little grasp on sanity.
The White Rock of Gilmoy, famed throughout Havilfar, passed away below and I headed directly for
the foul dens of the Manhounds of Faol.
It took me a complete Kregan day and night to fly from Ruathytu to Faol, and I admit I pressed the
voller harshly, the speed lever over to the full all the way.
It was a handful of burs into the morning when I slanted down over the river separating Urn Faol from
Thoth Faol. I flew on more carefully now, on the lookout for fliers above and riders below.
Below me were those places where I had run with screaming panic-stricken people about me, helpless
quarry for the vicious fangs of the jiklos, sport for the rich hunters in their Great Jikai. But there was no
time now to think of all those people, and what had become of them. Now I had to make my way into
the barred cages and caves where the people to be used as quarry were kept, and seek out Saffi, and
somehow bring her out safely.
Was that arrogant slave-master, Nalgre, still lording it over the miserable people he organized into
parties to be hunted to death? Him and his jiklo pet, the lascivious female jiklo with the red bolero jacket
and the blonde crusted hair these two symbolized the horrific power of the Jikai that used manhounds
to scent the prey, and that prey as human as the hunters, as human as the jiklos themselves!
Although, I truly believed then, the manhounds were rapidly losing the last vestiges of true humanity and
were lapsing back into primordial savagery.
Up here only a few degrees south of the equator the weather was warm enough for me to throw off the
blue shirt and trousers, to kick off the boots. Once more I was ready for action clad only in my old
scarlet breechclout, my weapons about me, a few oddments of gear in a lesten-hide purse at my waist.
Inquiries made some time ago had given me the name of the Kov of Faol s capital city, Smerdislad, but I
would avoid the place. The Kov s lands were mainly untended, agriculture existed merely on a
subsistence level, but the jungles rioted, for all his wealth came from the manhounds. In his evil hunts and
in the breeding and selling of jiklos lay his fortunes. So Smerdislad existed to bolster Encar Capela s
grandiose dreams of power and wealth; the caves and cages of the poor devils who ran shrieking from
his slavering jiklos were far removed from his glittering city.
Despite my frantic rush through the sky I had a neat and workmanlike plan arranged in my head. By [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]