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.Brak's temples ached.His eyes watered.He tried to stand.His left handbetrayed him, slipping.He fell again, onto his left side.For one instant hehad a distorted view of Civix teetering at the pit's edge as the stygiancloudiness enfolded him.Civix screamed in unbearable torment.The opaque blackness rolled away asquickly as it had come and, in an eyeblink, again became a part of thedarkness surrounding the rocks.Brak swiped at his mouth.No sign of Civix.The dark thing had taken him at the pit's rim and he wasgoneBrak's neck itched.He sensed evil hovering.Whatever the dark formlessnesshad been, one thing was certain.Itlived.The big barbarian felt baffled and deeply frightened.What could possibly havesnatched Civix away from ?He saw it then.Something rumpled and wrinkled.It lay in the shale where theman had been standing when the cloud caught him.Slowly Brak walked forward.The bile of fear rose in his mouth.Page 25ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlHe dropped to his knees, laid his broadsword aside.He put out his hands totouch the remains, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.He turned to stareat the rocks where the cloud had vanished.Civix was a boneless rag, of no more substance than the torn robe containinghis decimated corpse.Something had sucked out his bone and his blood and lefta bag of crinkled skin no thicker than Brak's own wrist.The man's head wasfolded down onto his shoulder like an empty sack.The barbarian swallowed,touched the dead cheek.It had a brittle, papery feel.He picked up Civix'sarm.Lacking stiffness, the arm hung from his hand like an empty sleeve.That was all Brak could bear.He turned away and emptied his stomach.Finally, after resting on a rock and holding his head till the dizzinesspassed, he was able to walk back to the ruin that had been his enemy.He reached down again with both hands.Just as he was about to touch thecorpse, he pulled his hands back a second time and growled low.On Civix's ankle, wrinkled and grimy, three tiny black prick-marks stood outstark.The three formed the points of an invisible triangle.It was the samedeathmark he had seen on Mother Mil.Instantly Brak's weary mind tumbled with unanswerable questions.What was thecloud-black thing that had killed Civix? Some kind of demon or evil essence?For no reason Brak saw a face like a medallion in his mind.Ky, pearl-eyed, head together with Civix in whispering colloquy.That made no sense! A nobleman of Jovis connected with this vileness? The twohad been unlikely companions recently.But how could that possibly explainCivix's awful lethargy, the lethargy which had left him behind to die victimof something while Captain Gorzhov, unwilling to face Brak, escaped?Countless tiny wounds from the white tentacles had leeched Brak's blood untilhe was near to fainting.A great dry nausea filled his belly.He lumbered tohis feet, seemed to clench his whole body.With one swift motion he scooped upthe flapping remains and flung them into the nearest pit.The corpse spread on the bubbling surface like a huge doll cut of cloth.Thena tentacle curled up and over the flattened head, dragged it under.The restsoon disappeared too.A bloody disastrous night.Brak limped back toward Helane, who still layunconscious.Well, he thought,at least now we know one thing for certain.If Logol ishaunted by demon-animals unknown to any who travel these wastes, then thedemon is following us.Sickened and afraid, he was tempted to run away.After a moment the desirepassed.He had cast his lot with Hadrios the Star-Tracker.No matter how he might wantto, he could not abandon the old man and the others in the caravan now.As hepassed the rocks from which the cloud-blackness had come he turned his headaway sharply.His face was wet with sweat.Helane did not seem badly hurt.Brak maneuvered her onto his shoulder, wentback to retrieve his broadsword and then started up toward the rocks withlabored step.A bubble went plip-plop.The haze drifted.Somewhere ahead men were hallooing,rushing out from the caravan with torches.Brak stumbled on.Chapter VRiver Sinister Fifty strokes.The hooking nose of old Hadrios stood out sharp against the flat gray sky ashe spoke.His lips pressed tight together.Then: And well laid on.Nervously the caravan boy named Kes uncoiled the long whip in the sand.A fewof the other boys stood about, none looking cheerful.Some had chosen not towitness the punishing, which was taking place at a discreet distance from themorning campfire.The wind lifted particles of sand against Brak's face.In the distance, one ofPage 26ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlthe mules brayed.The only other person present was Friar Pol.He faced theman to be punished but did not look at him.The Nestorian fingered his little stone cross.His lips moved.Talking to hisNameless God, Brak supposed, uncomfortably. Will you give me the count, master? Kes asked. I will, Hadrios replied. Begin.Craaack.The whip left a red line on Captain Gorzhov's naked back.The scout lay on his belly in the sand.His wrists and ankles were fastened totent pegs by ropes.His head was turned to the left.Shivering and itchinginside a borrowed cloak, the big barbarian could not see the Captain's eyes.But he saw Gorzhov's neck muscles tighten and cord as the lash was pulled backfor the second stroke. One, Hadrios said.His eyes were without pity.Kes laid on the next stroke. Two.Brak didn't enjoy watching.He would have been just as happy if matters hadbeen settled another way.But Hadrios had taken affairs into his own hands.Friar Pol clutched his cross to the bosom of his gray robe, raised closed eyesto a sky already filling with darker clouds.Brak's hide itched from the unguents and dressings that had been applied tohis wounds the night before.He eyed the sky as the sound of the whipquickened.If the Skulwind did not blow today, it would soon.Brak had no solid evidence for that belief.But it was still a firmconviction.If the worst could happen to this caravan it would.Craack. Fourteen.It went on and on, giving Brak no satisfaction, only a leaden certainty thatthere would be more trouble as a result of it.Gorzhov was a devious man.Hehad apparently chosen to return to camp the preceding evening as if nothinghad happened, gambling that Brak would never leave the area of the hell-pitsalive.It had turned out otherwise.The whip sang and popped. Twenty-four.At the count of forty-one, Captain Gorzhov groaned aloud.Hadrios held up ahand. Enough.Breath hissed out Gorzhov's teeth.Hadrios said,  Hear and heed me, Captain.If I am called upon to punish you for a similar offense again, I'll give youdeath, not the lash.The bearded scout groaned to signify he'd heard.His back glistened with redcriss-crossings but none was particularly deep.Despite Hadrios's instruction,the boy Kes had not lashed with all-out ferocity.He realized that CaptainGorzhov would still be with the caravan after his punishment.Obviously Kesfeared the scout's long memory.Hadrios caught up the hem of his robe and turned away. Cut him loose, hesaid as he left.Kes fumbled for his dagger.Brak stepped forward. I'll do it.Kes and the other boys departed.Alone with Gorzhov, Brak kneeled down besidethe big man and began to saw through the rope binding his left wrist.Gorzhov's eyes seemed tiny and dull.Whether the man was chastened or merelyhiding his hatred, Brak couldn't be sure.He suspected the latter.The rope strands parted.Brak stared straight at the Captain. This was none of my doing, he said [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]