The Return of Kavin by David Mason Read Free Book Online Page A

rubble. Overhead, a round circle of bright sky admitted light; there was no roof at all, and no window of any kind. The door through which they had come was oddly made; twice the height of a man, but so narrow that Zamor had some trouble squeezing his big body through it. Not a door for large folk, Hugon thought. Or… a door at all, then?
    “If we’re pursued, it’ll be hard on any man that comes through that,” Zamor grunted. “It’s tight as a virgin.” He moved to stand at one side of the slit door, and Hugon moved to the other. Cautiously, Hugon peered out.
    “We are pursued, brother,” he said, in a low voice. “But I’ll be damned if I know by what. Look, and see.”
    Zamor hazarded a look and drew back, eyes wide. His black face was grayer.
    “Great Snake!” he muttered.
    They were on the road below, standing in a close group, seeming to look toward the tower. They were like thickened smoke, Hugon thought. Oddly insubstantial, cylindrical, somehow like an ill-made imitation of an enormous human shape. But the heads were merely oval blank forms, without a single feature. And there were too many arms. How many, it was hard to tell; the Things seemed to shimmer, edgeless and ill-defined, as heat rising from a desert.
    But misty as they were, there was an air of purposeful menace about them that sent a prickle of cold down Hugon’s back. And there was no sign of Hazarsh; the creatures were capable of some harm, certainly.
    “The question is,” Hugon said, balancing the long sword thoughtfully, “can they feel a sword’s edge?”
    “We’ll know in a moment,” Zamor said, grimly. “One comes.”
    The Thing moved up the path toward the tower; Hugon, risking another glance, had the odd impression that it slid, rather than walked. It was obviously too large to pass the narrow door, though, he thought.
    Gorash, huddled against the wall, shrieked as he saw it through the slit door. He scrabbled at the wall behind him, as if trying to dig through it. The Thing was not in Hugon or Zamor’s sight, but, between them, a long gray arm suddenly emerged through the door. It stretched, impossibly; there seemed to be a hand, with clutching tentacular fingers, searching. The arm shot clear across the tower’s width, toward the squalling Gorash, and snatched at him, seizing a kicking leg. Then it drew him, writhing, across the stone floor.
    Zamor and Hugon swung together, their blades whistling into the gray stuff. The steel sank in, but seemed to stick, as if in thick clay; both men wrenched desperately, freeing their swords to hack again. There was a deep gash where each blade had cut, but no blood.
    Then, from outside, there was a whistling scream, an inhuman sound; but clearly a sound of pain from the Thing. The fingers writhed wildly, but did not release Gorash, who was now howling with mindless terror.
    Zamor hacked again, and Hugon slashed as well; but the gray tentacle drew back, still clutching Gorash, yanking him brutally through the narrow slit and out of sight. The Thing outside screamed again, and then again, and was silent. But the missing Gorash was equally silent.
    “It… feels something!” Hugon gasped. “You heard that noise!”
    “Yes,” Zamor said, his face grim. “But it doesn’t bleed.”
    “Look out, it’s back again!” Hugon cried, and swung. The exploring finger of gray sprang out of sight, and there was another whistle of pain from outside.
    “It seems to respect the sword, anyway,” Zamor grunted. They waited, but no further attempt came.
    “What in the name of the thirteen demons is that creature?” Zamor asked, his back flat against the wall and his eyes on the door. “Do you know, Hugon? You say you’ve studied such matters.”
    “It’s not in any book of monsters I’ve yet read,” Hugon told him, grimly.
    Gwynna, white as milk, came to her feet, and walked to the other side of the tower; she bent, and found the shortsword that Gorash had dropped at the last, scooped