Lord of Snow and Ice. Heather Massey

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      Then he frowned. It wasn’t the woman who was moving.

      Stellan rose a few inches and gazed around. He studied the river, the woods, and the long stretches of grass. In the end, he found nothing untoward. Perhaps in the heat of his fixation he had let his imagination run wild. All the more reason he should depart. He had just begun to edge back from the river when a blur of movement passed across his vision.

      He narrowed his eyes. There it was, near the woods! Something had moved the tall grass bordering the trees on the opposite side. Tufts of greenery jerked back and forth. At first, it seemed random, as though the victim of impish field mice. But the longer he watched, the more quickly a pattern emerged. Every muscle tensed, turning to stone as he poised for the worst. Surely one of them wouldn’t be so brazen as to travel this far?

      He glimpsed a patch of brown. Could it be a swarm of rodents? Or perhaps an earth tremor loomed, threatening a cave-in. A large swath of grass shifted unnaturally, disproving his suppositions. Stellan wiped sweat from his forehead. What was causing the mysterious movement?

      Then his scalp tingled, and not because of sexual arousal. Squatting, he parted the reeds. Though his eyes could not yet discern the type of animal coursing through the grass, other senses, evolved among his kind for generations, had different means of analyzing this new development.

      Magick was present, and one of the most hostile sorts in existence.

      The creature began to emerge more clearly. Its mottled-brown hide stretched far back into the woods even as it pushed forward toward the river. Stellan could both sense the enormous size and see the disturbance it created among the flora. As though revolted, the trees and grass seemed to flatten themselves away from it. This undulating menace was not indigenous to Aldebaran, of that much he was certain.

      Stellan rose. The new vantage point revealed startling details. Before him was a huge slithering entity, not quite a snake, but not exactly a lizard, either. With its misshapen legs and crooked, gangly protrusions, it reminded him of a centipede, albeit the largest he had ever seen. The image was too fantastic to describe, even for the tallest of tales.

      A chill passed through him. He’d been so busy studying the pulsing quagmire of flesh that he’d momentarily failed to gauge its purpose.

      The creature was heading straight toward the woman.

      Cursing, he leaped forward–and then fell. Snarling, he glanced down. Ropy weeds latched fast to his black boots as if trying to yank him underwater and drown him like the merfolk of legend. But only one thought dominated his mind: save the woman.

      To accomplish that goal, he needed supplies from his saddlebag. With a violent kick, he freed himself and lunged toward the trees concealing his horse. It seemed too great a distance to cover. But cover it he must, or feel his soul burn eternally for failing.

      Once at the horse’s side, Stellan wrenched the bag free. After affixing a coil of rope to his right shoulder, he ran back toward the river. He gulped in great breaths, pumping his legs past their limits. At this point, it didn’t matter if the woman saw him.

      Words spilled from his lips, syllables of ancient tongues summoning forces from phantasmagorical realms. With a final, guttural inflection, Stellan flew across the river, the tips of his boots skimming the water’s surface. At the far bank, he jumped nimbly over a boulder and ran up the slope.

      A putrid smell washed over him. The sickening scent suggested a mountain of deer carcasses dripping with rancid fat in the summer’s hot sun. He covered his nose and mouth with a gloved hand. But now, at least, he knew his adversary.

      As so often was the case, the whole encounter made him ill–physically ill, but also emotionally. This foul creature had no right to invade such healthy, wholesome land. Furthermore, it represented all he held in contempt about his own kind. Yet the ignorance of Aldebaran’s citizens troubled him only slightly less. Fools, all of them!

      Before he could catch his breath, the creature reared at least ten feet into the air. A lolling, cactus-like appendage formed some kind of antennae. Too many bristly, clicking pincers to count made a madcap of its head. Undoubtedly they were poisonous. Its red-slashed hide leaked sallow-colored pus, sloughing off in random bursts. Globs of it now littered the surrounding grass. Slowly, the grotesque brute began swaying back and forth, acting as though time was its slave to abuse with impunity.

      Why, and for what purpose? Any further philosophizing on the vagaries of nature would have to wait, however. Its heinous existence strengthened his resolve to conquer and abolish it. Were he any other man, Stellan might simply have whisked the woman away to safety, where no doubt a kiss of gratitude would be his to claim. Perhaps more. But he wasn’t just any other man. Indeed, some would say he wasn’t a man at all.

      A hungry thought blasted his mind. The alien craving was ancient and primitive and greedy–feed.

      Stellan debated whether he should call out to the woman. Did slumber have such a stranglehold on her senses? How could she be so heedless? But in his heart he knew she could not have known the danger. She was an innocent person simply enjoying nature’s bounty. Over the years, Stellan had done his job almost too well, but as of late his fortune had been changing. This awful development was proof enough of that. Nevertheless, for whatever reason, the woman was clearly unaware of the hoary predator.

      The creature stopped swaying. Stellan caught a flash of bright red. A protrusion he hadn’t noticed before now extended from the creature’s maw. Long. Vein-ridden. Thick. Stellan shaded his eyes against the bright sun as the appendage lengthened. Alien sensations invaded his mind once again. Rape and devour, devour and rape–in no particular order. The intent was all too clear–the creature meant to ravage the woman as fully as it knew how.

      Stellan’s features contorted with disgust, but then a wave of shame coursed through him. Ripe memories of rampant lust echoed in his mind. He’d just had a brush with his own animalistic tendencies. Was he any different than the beast before him? The woman deserved far better regard than he had given.

      He had to act now. If he failed, then his only task would be to rip open the beast’s body to free nothing but a dead woman.

      The creature was drawing its abominable length into a lopsided, uneven coil even as its upper body targeted the woman. The dangling rod of flesh stretched before it like a herald.

      No! Stellan rushed toward it. He lashed his rope around the centipede’s head. He’d force it away from the woman and into the woods. There, hidden from prying eyes, he’d destroy it.

      That was the plan, anyway.

      Stellan pulled hard—and crashed to the ground. Sharp stones dug into his back. He gritted his teeth against the pain. He dug his ankles into the ground and pulled again. The rope grew taut. His feet carved deep grooves in the soft earth, yet the creature moved only a few hand-lengths.

      It’s useless. This damnable thing is too strong! He would have to kill it first.

      Stellan lashed the rope to a nearby tree. He rummaged in his satchel for the needles with bulbous gray tips. Moving quickly, he inserted them into the creature’s flesh. Then he retreated to a safe distance.

      The monstrosity twitched. So hungry, came the thought, followed by a questing probe. It turned around, seeking the source of disturbance. Then Stellan’s neutralizer began coursing through its body, infusing it with a searing, thaumaturgic fire. Its primitive mind broadcast an onslaught of excruciating СКАЧАТЬ