Christy Poff [Internet Bonds 09] Terms of Surrender [WCP] (pdf)
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Fred Hoyle Comet Halley
Fred Saberhagen The Book of the Gods 01 The Face of Apol
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Fred Saberhagen Berserker Throne
Krahn Betina Ukryty pśÂomieśÂ (Skaza)
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actively come over to my side.
The leader of this particular search party the very man I'd dosed with Borgia
poison still suffered from a sore shoulder and a half-useless arm, besides a
few more general, systemic side effects. By the time he caught up with me, he
had recovered sufficiently to enter the lists again, and was burning for
revenge. Not only for the physical hurt, but for having made him look a fool.
* * *
Either of my two vampire-enemies who were present could have assumed mist-
form to enter my sanctuary without digging, but hunting a dangerous quarry by
that method has its own frightful perils; and neither of the nosferatu who had
come out against me had quite the stomach for any such tactic.
Having successfully located their quarry through magical or near-magical
sensitivity, they took up tools and weapons with eager, trembling hands, ready
to enjoy a triumph but fearing at every moment to provoke and alert the
monster underground. By this means they dug and scraped away the first two or
three feet of age-packed soil, using tools they had brought with them, or had
stolen nearby.
Then, unreasonably afraid that their noise and activity would rouse me
prematurely from my trance, they tried to impale me with wooden spears,
screaming as they thrust down at me through the last two or three feet of
earth.
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The remaining layer of soil was hardened by having lain undisturbed for many
decades, but it failed to muffle the louder scream of mingled rage and agony,
which now went up to them in answer.
I owe my life to their fear and to the fact that my potentially strongest
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opponent still suffered a weakness in one arm. The assault failed by being
launched prematurely, before they had dug deeply enough to be sure of my exact
position, and too tentative.
Having thus brutally been made aware of the presence of mine enemies, I
dragged myself awake as rapidly as possible. The process occupied only a few
seconds, much less than it would have taken ordinarily, but under the
circumstances it was still almost fatally slow. Long enough for my enemies,
stabbing blindly into the ground in a frenzy of over-confidence, to inflict
another wound or two.
I was struggling, trying to fight back, even before I was fully out of my
resting trance. Fortunately no more than two of the ten or more spear thrusts
into the dirt had actually struck me. Clawing my way up out of the earth,
spurting blood and spitting mud between bared fangs, I cursed my own
overconfidence, lack of prudence call it what you will that had caused me to
underrate my brother's ability to mobilize a force against me and to overrate
my own power to terrify and subdue the opposition.
Wounded, with only one arm fully functional, I erupted savagely in man-form
out of the temporary grave, raging and showering loose dirt in all directions.
Even still half-asleep, before I was completely up out of the earth, I used my
hunting knife to good advantage, slashing a breather's Achilles tendon and
thus bringing one opponent down.
Shortly I sustained a belaboring with wooden weapons which deprived me of this
handy knife. But moments later I was gripping in my right hand the fire-
hardened point of one spear I had already caught and broken off. With this
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weapon I quickly disposed of one more of my attackers.
Exactly what reaction my foes had expected of me when they provoked me to come
roaring up out of the earth, I do not know, but evidently not the berserk fury
of this counterattack. No mere breathing human possessed a fraction of the
speed and strength required to face one of the nosferatu in open combat. I
make no idle boast when I assure the reader that, had they not taken me by
surprise, no three or four of them would have been able to stand against me
for a full minute.
My strategy was to concentrate my efforts upon one of them ideally the most
dangerous, he of the poisoned arm and quickly put him out of action or drive
him away.
Knowing the best strategy and being able to achieve it while under multiple
attack are not the same thing.
The small grove echoed with the savage impacts of wooden weapons. One after
another, these went splintering away. Blood spattered violently upon the
nearby trees, and winged little breathing things, and running things, went
clamoring out of our way.
After making a good beginning to the fight, I was forced to endure a long
moment or two in which I could do little more than sit, almost helpless. They
might have finished me then with spear-thrusts, but they delayed a little. And
that little was too long.
They stamped and wheeled around me. Fortunately for me not all of them were
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skilled in personal combat and they got in each other's way, their wooden
spears and clubs clattering against each other, saving me from further
immediate
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damage.
A turning point came when I was able to seize my remaining breather attacker
by the ankle, and by main force throw the man off balance.
I fought my way to a standing position, only to be seized and dragged to the
ground again by the desperate effort of my opponents. Kicking viciously at
every ankle I could reach, I shattered several bones. In a moment I had again
regained my feet.
My enemies might have chosen to abandon the struggle at that point, but
instead were incautious enough to stand their ground and try to finish me off.
One factor in their calculations must have been that they still dreaded their
master more than me.
There is a peculiarity of vampire combat that I have seldom heard remarked
upon: that one never gasps or pants with exertion. Physical weariness ensues
at last, as it must in all living things, but not because of lack of oxygen.
One must resort to other means to gauge the weariness of one's opponent, or
ally. Even when one is mortally wounded, the voice ordinarily remains full and
well-
controlled. Only emotion, and not the need to gulp for air, may cause it to
break chaotically. When the broken fore-end of my captured wooden spear was
broken once again, this time into uselessness, I fought on with my bare hands
and, toward the bitter end, with a succession of small logs or fallen
branches. Stones, born of the ancient earth but as lifeless as brass or steel,
tended to be no more effective than those refined metals.
At this point, with only three of my original five assailants still on their
feet, the
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breather turned tail and ran away in terror. Evidently the thought of what
Radu might do to him was not enough to make him face me any longer.
One might, in emulation of Samson of the Old Testament, use an animal skull or
one of the long bones as an effective weapon. On occasion I have found the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
