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put an arrow through that Hollow Man."
"I think not," said another voice, unexpected but familiar to Jim, Dafydd and
Brian at least.
They turned to see that Carolinus had appeared beside them. The elderly
magician, his white beard and mustaches blowing in the cold wind that
continued to try to suck the strength from them, was wearing his usual faded
red robe that covered him from shoulder to ankle. He looked very frail.
"I think not, Dafydd," he repeated. He pointed. "See!"
They looked, just in time to see Eshan slipping off the back of the Worm and
disappearing as he went down on his stomach among the boulders and rubble.
"He cannot escape unless he comes into sight on the far side of that loose
rock, in order to run behind the cliff," went on Carolinus. "Watch the far
side of those boulders with an arrow at your bow. That is the only way you can
help James now, Dafydd."
"Yes," answered Dafydd slowly. Arrow nocked to his bowstring but not drawn,
he moved to his left several paces to where he could see all the far edge of
the tumbled rock.
"You see," continued Carolinus gently, his voice carrying easily to Dafydd in
the utter stillness of the moment. Even the birds, though they still circled,
but higher now, had fallen silent. "It isn't intended by the Dark Powers that
you help James in any way. And Brian you see that it's James who's to be
tested, here. The Worm is for him and no one else."
"Cannot you tell him something more that will help, then, Mage?" Brian's tone
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was close to one of pleading.
Carolinus shook his head.
"I cannot," he said. "And if I could, I would not be allowed to. James, it's
up to you."
The last words were addressed to Jim.
"You had best go for him on foot, then," said Brian, turning back to Jim.
"Keep your sword arm as high as you can, approaching it, so that it may not
trap it against your side; and keep your shield well up beside you also. Rest
its top edge against the shoulder boss of your armor and its lower edge
against one of your leg greaves. That way the great blow of its body's
forepart back at you will not be able to drive these edges into you. It cannot
break through the shield itself; and its mouth is so made that it cannot get a
grip on the upper or lower edge of the shield, to wrest it from your grasp."
"Right," said Jim.
He paused and looked around.
"I'd like a drink of something first," he said. "My mouth is dry as ashes."
"Alas " said Herrac, who had drawn close. But Carolinus was already pouring
from a small bottle into a thick blue glass almost as large as the bottle;
both of which had appeared without warning in his hands.
He handed the filled glass to Jim. Jim drank. The liquid looked and tasted
like the milk Carolinus drank; however, it was something more. It not only
satisfied Jim's thirst, but sent a fire of energy running all through him.
Suddenly he was light and strong. But then the feel of the strange wind came
back upon him as well.
He felt again the emptiness, the coldness of a fear that had come to him upon
that unnatural wind; but also, together with these emotions, there was a sort
of resignation, an acceptance of what awaited him. He descended from Gorp,
checked the position of the shield on his arm, drew his sword and began to
walk to meet the approaching monster.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jim and the Worm had started toward each other from about as far apart as the
clearing permitted, diagonally across from each other on it. Looking toward
the cliffs from Jim's point of view, he was at the right front edge of the
clearing, just in front of the trees there; while the Worm had come into sight
around the left edge of those same cliffs, which walled in nearly two-thirds
of the clearing.
The Worm, for all its size, and the sudden lightning movement of its upper
body, came on with relative slowness, certainly no faster than Jim was
walking, and possibly more slowly.
He saw now that the upper part of its body, that part that had lifted so
quickly to catch and swallow Dafydd's arrows in mid-air, was actually held
slightly off the ground. Behind it, the Worm's body moved by a series of
bones, or something like them, underneath the skin; the way a snake moves over
the ground, except that the Worm came straight on, rather than wriggling from
side to side to advance. He had not noticed this at theLoathlyTower fight
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because his attention had been all on the Ogre that was his particular
opponent.
In this moment of utter stillness, as he moved forward, Jim's mind felt
completely empty.
 No, not completely empty. Something was nagging at him. Some old memory was
stimulating him to move toward an idea that might improve his chances of
defeating the Worm. What was it?
Suddenly it came back to him. He stopped, swung about and strode, as hastily
in his armor as he could, back toward where Brian, Carolinus, Dafydd, Herrac
and his sons waited.
"I've just thought of something," he said breathlessly, coming up to them.
"Brian, Gorp's nowhere near as imaginative and high-strung as your war horse.
I think maybe Gorp will carry me up to the Worm, where Blanchard wouldn't. I
just remembered how, when I was in the body of Gorbash, the dragon, how I made
the mistake of flying directly against the lance of Sir Hugh de Bois de
Malencontri, who held my castle before me. I'd been warned about attacking an
armored knight with lance by Smrgol, Gorbash's dragon grand-uncle. But I'd
forgotten it completely. You remember how Sir Hugh wasn't hurt, but his lance
pierced me through and I nearly died as a result?"
"Well I remember it," said Brian grimly.
"It suddenly struck me," said Jim excitedly. "I've got nothing to lose by
trying to put a lance into that Worm from horseback. At full charge, with my
weight and the horse's behind it, that lance point can't miss going in deep
enough to do some serious damage to the vital parts of the Worm. If nothing
else, it'll cripple the creature, so that it bleeds internally, and it'll be
weakened when I come to fight it on foot."
"An excellent idea!A marvelous idea!" cried Brian."But not you, James. Not
you! You know that lance-work is the weakest of your fighting skills. However,
I have taken the prize at more tourneys than I have fingers on both hands.
Moreover, you are completely wrong. It was not the Worm that Blanchard feared
so greatly. It was the Ogre, because of his twelve feet of height. To
Blanchard he looked like a mountain, and Blanchard recognized the club in his
hand for what it was. No, I will take Blanchard and a lance and I promise you
I will put it in behind the front part of the body, where it will do the most
damage!"
He broke off.
"A lance!" he cried, looking about him. "Who will give me a lance? Fetch me a
lance!"
"You may have mine," said Herrac. "I left it behind a tree, when it became
plain that there would be no room for lance-work when we went in. Alan you
know where. Fetch it!"
His eldest son reined his horse around and galloped off. In a moment he was
back with the lance.
There were two bright spots of color on Brian's cheek. He sat as straight on
the back of Blanchard as if there had never been anything wrong with him. He
took the lance and laid it diagonally across the shoulders of the horse,
pointing forward; then clasped the butt of it under his upper arm against his
side, and lifted the point clear of its support.
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"A good lance a good weapon!" he said.
For a moment the point of the lance held there, steady in mid-air, its steel [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]