agony slowly went out of Hero’s eyes. He smiled a strange smile and bent his face down to her—and spat at her point blank. She fell back, wiped the thick spittle from her wrathful brow and pointed a trembling hand toward the plank. “Go, then, fool!” she hissed. “But we shall meet again, you and I, never fear. In the Charnel Gardens …”
Hero was cut free from the mast and without delay was bundled onto the plank. He too was given his sword, and at the last he turned to face his tormentors like a great wolf at bay. Crouching there, inches from eternity, his eyes found Zura’s and bored into them. For a second she met his ferocious gaze, then could meet it no longer. And when next she looked Hero too was gone.
That left only Limnar Dass, and without a murmur, head held high, he followed his friends of so few days along the plank and out into the sea of air. Zura watched his tumbling, rapidly shrinking figure until it entered clouds where they had gathered below like foam of ether. Only then did she turn from the rail.
A picture of Hero’s face, furious, full of hatred and loathing, burned in her mind’s eye. She felt a chill wind on her like some strange omen.
“Set sail for Zura,” she ordered. Then, lifting her voice: “For Zura, I said, and quickly! That’s enough sport for one day …”
CHAPTER XII
Enter Gytherik
Eldin and Hero knew only one way to fall: noisily! But you can only yell for so long. They had yelled, both of them lustily, but more out of defiance of the unacceptable than in fear. You may fear death’s approach when he is stealthy and his shadow falls over you slowly until it shuts out life’s light, but when he leaps on you suddenly with his scythe already swinging … Now they merely fell, tumbling, breathlessly, between whirling heaven and earth, expelled by the one and attracted—fatally—by the other.
Limnar Dass, on the other hand, knew a different way to fall. If the pair who preceded him rapidly down leagues of sky and had his experience of the air-baths, they too might have made the same desperate attempt. An attempt not to fall but rather—to fly. For in the air-baths Limnar had learned the best way to hold his body in order to maintain a position without sinking to the end of his chain, and if it worked in the air-baths perhaps it would work here. Not so efficiently, no, for while in the air-baths perhaps it was simply a matter of maintaining one’s balance, here the fight was against gravity, a most powerful adversary.
In the waking world Limnar would have made a remarkable free-fall parachutist, but he had never lived in the waking world. Here in the dreamlands he could only do his best, and that without any parachute at all. Nevertheless, during those first few moments after casting himself from the plank, he had formed his body into the air-enclosing posture of the free-faller, and from this position he could observe through eyes half-closed against the whipping rush of his fall all that went on below.
In this position, too, he shot through the cloud-layer far beneath The Cadaver ; and only then did his speed become apparent, so that he knew for sure that try as he might he could in no way slow his fall. The only difference, if he could maintain his present spread-eagled position, would be that he would be conscious when he hit the surface of the Southern Sea. Or at least, until immediately before he hit it …
And down below he spotted the hurtling figures of his two friends—Eldin plummeting like a stone while Hero seemed to pin-wheel down the sky—and a sick feeling of defeat came over Limnar as he realized that he would see the two hurtle into the sea, and that a few moments later he would follow them. From this height it would be like falling onto solid rock.
Then—
An impossible sight! Limnar slitted his eyes more yet against the rush of air and stared at the speck which was Eldin. He must be close to the surface of the sea by now, mere seconds away.
Hero was cut free from the mast and without delay was bundled onto the plank. He too was given his sword, and at the last he turned to face his tormentors like a great wolf at bay. Crouching there, inches from eternity, his eyes found Zura’s and bored into them. For a second she met his ferocious gaze, then could meet it no longer. And when next she looked Hero too was gone.
That left only Limnar Dass, and without a murmur, head held high, he followed his friends of so few days along the plank and out into the sea of air. Zura watched his tumbling, rapidly shrinking figure until it entered clouds where they had gathered below like foam of ether. Only then did she turn from the rail.
A picture of Hero’s face, furious, full of hatred and loathing, burned in her mind’s eye. She felt a chill wind on her like some strange omen.
“Set sail for Zura,” she ordered. Then, lifting her voice: “For Zura, I said, and quickly! That’s enough sport for one day …”
CHAPTER XII
Enter Gytherik
Eldin and Hero knew only one way to fall: noisily! But you can only yell for so long. They had yelled, both of them lustily, but more out of defiance of the unacceptable than in fear. You may fear death’s approach when he is stealthy and his shadow falls over you slowly until it shuts out life’s light, but when he leaps on you suddenly with his scythe already swinging … Now they merely fell, tumbling, breathlessly, between whirling heaven and earth, expelled by the one and attracted—fatally—by the other.
Limnar Dass, on the other hand, knew a different way to fall. If the pair who preceded him rapidly down leagues of sky and had his experience of the air-baths, they too might have made the same desperate attempt. An attempt not to fall but rather—to fly. For in the air-baths Limnar had learned the best way to hold his body in order to maintain a position without sinking to the end of his chain, and if it worked in the air-baths perhaps it would work here. Not so efficiently, no, for while in the air-baths perhaps it was simply a matter of maintaining one’s balance, here the fight was against gravity, a most powerful adversary.
In the waking world Limnar would have made a remarkable free-fall parachutist, but he had never lived in the waking world. Here in the dreamlands he could only do his best, and that without any parachute at all. Nevertheless, during those first few moments after casting himself from the plank, he had formed his body into the air-enclosing posture of the free-faller, and from this position he could observe through eyes half-closed against the whipping rush of his fall all that went on below.
In this position, too, he shot through the cloud-layer far beneath The Cadaver ; and only then did his speed become apparent, so that he knew for sure that try as he might he could in no way slow his fall. The only difference, if he could maintain his present spread-eagled position, would be that he would be conscious when he hit the surface of the Southern Sea. Or at least, until immediately before he hit it …
And down below he spotted the hurtling figures of his two friends—Eldin plummeting like a stone while Hero seemed to pin-wheel down the sky—and a sick feeling of defeat came over Limnar as he realized that he would see the two hurtle into the sea, and that a few moments later he would follow them. From this height it would be like falling onto solid rock.
Then—
An impossible sight! Limnar slitted his eyes more yet against the rush of air and stared at the speck which was Eldin. He must be close to the surface of the sea by now, mere seconds away.
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