In the Empire of Shadow. Lawrence Watt-Evans
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Название: In the Empire of Shadow
Автор: Lawrence Watt-Evans
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Научная фантастика
Серия: Worlds of Shadow
isbn: 9781434449801
isbn:
He considered turning to run now, dashing off into the forest at random, but that, he realized, might just take him into the jaws of some slimy black monstrosity.
Besides, if he died, perhaps he would be reunited with Nancy and Rachel. If he died bravely, went down fighting, didn’t he deserve to join them, wherever they were? Maybe if he died here he would wake up safely back home on Earth, in his own bed, alive and well.
But there was no point in being stupid, in making it easy for Shadow. He headed for Valadrakul and Susan; Valadrakul had his spells, Susan her revolver.
“’Tisn’t seeking us,” Elani said abruptly, breaking the silence.
“Is’t not?” Raven asked, startled. Pel saw that the nobleman had found a broken limb among the debris that the ship had brought down, and was holding it in his right hand like a club. His bandaged left hand was empty.
“Nay. ’Tis come to study the portal that brought us hither.”
Pel started to relax, then realized what that could mean. “It’ll find us soon enough, then,” he said.
“An it flies not on through, into Empire, aye,” Elani agreed.
“Mistress Thorpe,” Raven called, “can you send word, warn those who remain at Base One?”
“Of course, sir,” Prossie replied. “But I can’t promise they’ll pay any attention.”
Raven muttered a word Pel didn’t catch. It sounded like an archaic obscenity.
“The flying creature is at yon portal,” Elani announced, pointing upward.
“Goes it through?” Raven called.
Pel looked about, and saw that the party had collected into three groups—and one individual.
One group consisted of Elani, Amy, and Ted, clustered at the base of a large tree of undistinguished species; another was composed of himself, Susan, Valadrakul, Stoddard, and Prossie Thorpe, standing by the side of the downed ship; and the third was made up of Lieutenant Dibbs and his fourteen men, gathered under the ship’s stubby wing, farther astern. Raven stood alone, on an upthrust root of a gigantic oak, swinging his makeshift club stiffly and watching the leaves overhead.
And Colonel Carson’s body lay in the open part of the little clearing between the ship and the trees, near the center of the uneven quadrilateral formed by the survivors. Pel turned away, and found himself looking at the dead officer’s troops.
Dibbs had his men arranged in two rows of seven, one line facing forward, the other aft, with himself at the outer end; all of them were crouching, as the fin provided slightly less than six feet of headroom. Some, Pel saw, were clutching their blasters by the barrels; others were searching the ground for sticks or rocks.
“Are there any other weapons aboard the ship?” Pel called to the lieutenant, shifting back to the rear of his own cluster.
Dibbs shook his head.
“Nay,” Elani cried. “It turns away! It senses us!”
A dozen faces turned upward.
And a moment later, a dozen assorted black-winged horrors plunged down through the green leaves, claws outstretched, fanged mouths agape.
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