The warlock insane by Christopher Stasheff Page B
Authors: Christopher Stasheff
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Fantasy fiction, Fantasy, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy
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flow!"
"Too… late…" the doppelganger gasped. "Carotid… cut…" It was true. The whole front of his doublet was soaked in blood.
"What happened? No, don't answer—one of them got past your guard. With those claws, one swipe would do it." Rod leaped up and dug through the saddlebag frantically. "Got to be something in here!
Fess, I told you we should have packed some plasma!"
"Don't… trouble…"the doppelganger gasped.
"Don't trouble !" Rod whirled back down, staring at his own wan visage. "I can't let you die!"
"Do," the doppelganger urged. "Don't… trouble… I'll be back when… you need…" His voice trailed off, and his eyes dulled.
Rod stared, kneeling, frozen in the snow.
"Rod."
"Not now!" Rod glanced up at Fess in irritation, but when he turned back to the doppelganger, he was gone. There wasn't even a hollow in the snow to show where he had been. Rod stared.
"What has happened, Rod?"
"Six cat-men just attacked us,'' Rod heard himself explaining. "We killed two…" He glanced around. "I don't see them, either… And we chased off the rest. But one of them slit my double's throat."
"I had surmised as much," the robot sympathized. "But how shall we bury him, when the ground is frozen?"
'Rod glanced up at him in irritation. "Come off it! You know he wasn't really there." Then he stopped, startled by his own words.
"Neither were the bandits," Fess told him. "There were only two peasants, dressed in remarkably well kept brown jerkins and leggins. You drove them off."
But Rod wasn't listening. He was staring at the barren, unstained snow and muttering, "All the monsters we meet can't do more damage than cat-men do. Damn! Just when I thought I was getting to know myself, too!"
He sighed, mounted Fess, and turned away from the road, riding deeper into the forest.
Chapter Four
Page 37
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
It was one of those nights that seem to last forever. As soon as Rod realized that, he developed suspicions. "Fess, how long has it been since I left the family?"
"Approximately three hours, Rod."
"Is that all?" Rod was appalled to realize how much had happened in so short a time. "Is something wrong with my time sense?"
"Perhaps," the robot said slowly, "since you have experienced a multiplicity of events during that period."
"Well how long has it been since I found Granny Ban with her arm stuck in that tree?"
"Was that her difficulty? From the sound, I thought perhaps she had been ensnared by a troop of bandits."
"Not that I saw." Rod frowned. "Or should I say, 'That's not what / saw.' Anyway, how long?"
"Two hours and forty-three minutes have elapsed, Rod."
"You're kidding! That was two hours, if it was a minute!"
"It was more than a minute, Rod, but considerably less than two hours. It is nearly midnight."
"I could have sworn it was the wee hours, not the hours of wee folk. Y'know, I should be feeling sleepy by now."
"Perhaps you will be when the adrenaline ebbs."
" 'If,' not 'when.' What's that light up ahead?"
Fess expanded his video image. "I see no light but the moon's reflection, Rod."
"Not another hallucination! Well, I suppose I might as well get it over with." Rod dismounted. "Stay close, okay? And don't let me hurt anybody."
"I will endeavor to prevent damage, Rod—but I believe there is no cause for concern. I see absolutely nothing."
"Wish I could say that." Rod turned away, gathering his cloak about him, but he still shivered as he plowed his way through the snow toward the glow ahead.
In the distance, the bells of theRunnymede cathedral chimed midnight. Rod stopped on the edge of a little clearing. In its middle, a campfire burned—a tiny campfire, its flames guttering. A man knelt before it, his back to Rod, wearing a cowled cloak. Rod wondered what a monk was doing out at this time of night, then remembered that foresters' cloaks looked very much like monks'
robes—especially when you couldn't make out
"Too… late…" the doppelganger gasped. "Carotid… cut…" It was true. The whole front of his doublet was soaked in blood.
"What happened? No, don't answer—one of them got past your guard. With those claws, one swipe would do it." Rod leaped up and dug through the saddlebag frantically. "Got to be something in here!
Fess, I told you we should have packed some plasma!"
"Don't… trouble…"the doppelganger gasped.
"Don't trouble !" Rod whirled back down, staring at his own wan visage. "I can't let you die!"
"Do," the doppelganger urged. "Don't… trouble… I'll be back when… you need…" His voice trailed off, and his eyes dulled.
Rod stared, kneeling, frozen in the snow.
"Rod."
"Not now!" Rod glanced up at Fess in irritation, but when he turned back to the doppelganger, he was gone. There wasn't even a hollow in the snow to show where he had been. Rod stared.
"What has happened, Rod?"
"Six cat-men just attacked us,'' Rod heard himself explaining. "We killed two…" He glanced around. "I don't see them, either… And we chased off the rest. But one of them slit my double's throat."
"I had surmised as much," the robot sympathized. "But how shall we bury him, when the ground is frozen?"
'Rod glanced up at him in irritation. "Come off it! You know he wasn't really there." Then he stopped, startled by his own words.
"Neither were the bandits," Fess told him. "There were only two peasants, dressed in remarkably well kept brown jerkins and leggins. You drove them off."
But Rod wasn't listening. He was staring at the barren, unstained snow and muttering, "All the monsters we meet can't do more damage than cat-men do. Damn! Just when I thought I was getting to know myself, too!"
He sighed, mounted Fess, and turned away from the road, riding deeper into the forest.
Chapter Four
Page 37
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
It was one of those nights that seem to last forever. As soon as Rod realized that, he developed suspicions. "Fess, how long has it been since I left the family?"
"Approximately three hours, Rod."
"Is that all?" Rod was appalled to realize how much had happened in so short a time. "Is something wrong with my time sense?"
"Perhaps," the robot said slowly, "since you have experienced a multiplicity of events during that period."
"Well how long has it been since I found Granny Ban with her arm stuck in that tree?"
"Was that her difficulty? From the sound, I thought perhaps she had been ensnared by a troop of bandits."
"Not that I saw." Rod frowned. "Or should I say, 'That's not what / saw.' Anyway, how long?"
"Two hours and forty-three minutes have elapsed, Rod."
"You're kidding! That was two hours, if it was a minute!"
"It was more than a minute, Rod, but considerably less than two hours. It is nearly midnight."
"I could have sworn it was the wee hours, not the hours of wee folk. Y'know, I should be feeling sleepy by now."
"Perhaps you will be when the adrenaline ebbs."
" 'If,' not 'when.' What's that light up ahead?"
Fess expanded his video image. "I see no light but the moon's reflection, Rod."
"Not another hallucination! Well, I suppose I might as well get it over with." Rod dismounted. "Stay close, okay? And don't let me hurt anybody."
"I will endeavor to prevent damage, Rod—but I believe there is no cause for concern. I see absolutely nothing."
"Wish I could say that." Rod turned away, gathering his cloak about him, but he still shivered as he plowed his way through the snow toward the glow ahead.
In the distance, the bells of theRunnymede cathedral chimed midnight. Rod stopped on the edge of a little clearing. In its middle, a campfire burned—a tiny campfire, its flames guttering. A man knelt before it, his back to Rod, wearing a cowled cloak. Rod wondered what a monk was doing out at this time of night, then remembered that foresters' cloaks looked very much like monks'
robes—especially when you couldn't make out
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