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The Lure of the Basilisk

Page 21

by Lawrence Watt-Evans


  Garth, the great lord of overmen north of Skelleth, a head taller than any man, red-eyed and black-haired, leather-skinned and fur-chested, swore ever to serve the Forgotten King, so long as he should live.

  The yellow-garbed bargainer, a figure in many a dim and evil legend, older than any man knows, swore in exchange that Garth’s life would not pass unnoticed; that so long as anything shall live upon the earth, his name would be remembered with awe.

  Such was the bargain.

  Original prologue to “The Master of Mormoreth”:

  Garth the overman rode into Skelleth alone, his battle-axe in hand, his armor gleaming; his blazing red eyes gazed ever straight ahead, ignoring the curious townspeople who stared at him from street and window.

  Well might they stare, for only rarely were overmen seen in human realms, and Garth was impressive even for one of his race. He stood six feet ten inches tall and was proportioned to match, with broad, well-muscled shoulders and chest; his skin was the inhumanly tough, leathery brown typical of his kind, his nose nonexistent, his huge eyes vivid crimson; his black hair, never cut, reached little past his shoulders, while his unshaven jaw was as innocent of beard as a newborn child’s.

  Under his armor his hair was thick indeed, almost deserving the name fur; it was black, soft and silky as a panther’s pelt.

  Never before had Skelleth seen his like; as he wound his way through the dusty streets a crowd of children followed wonderingly behind his great black beast.

  He alighted at the King’s Inn, and gave his animal into the care of a stablehand; axe still in hand, he strode silently into the tavern-room, surveying the scene. A dozen tables, each designed to accommodate four diners, occupied most of the floor-space; three of them were occupied. Opposite the door he had entered by was a large stone fireplace, with a log burning pleasantly; down the left-hand wall ran a counter, with a plump man behind it polishing plates. The wall behind him held a large, many-paned window, while the right-hand wall was mostly taken up with a staircase to the upper floor.

  The table nearest the counter held three scruffy-looking farmers, drinking heavily; one in the niche beneath the stairs served a pair of soldiers, swords nearby, who were engrossed in a game of dice; and lastly, a table just to the left of the fireplace held a single robed figure, his face invisible beneath his yellow hood. Garth crossed immediately to this last, and sat down opposite the hidden man.

  They sat without speaking for a long moment; then Garth said, “Hear me, old one.”

  “I will hear you.” The voice was little more than a whisper, dry as autumn leaves.

  “I am called Garth. I am chief among the overmen of all the lands north of Skelleth.”

  The other made no reply.

  “I seek the Forgotten King.”

  “I am he.”

  “So I had hoped.”

  “Why do you seek me?”

  “O King, I am weary of life as it has been. I have lived long, as do all my kind, yet I have done little, it seems, and nothing of import.”

  “Such is the lot of all, be they man or overman.”

  “I would not have it so. O King, I know my place in the cosmos, I know that I shall never cause the stars to change, nor shall I alter the fate of the world; but I would have an influence upon the dwellers in this world, I would have it that my name be remembered throughout all the future of this planet, as long as anything that speaks shall live upon it.”

  The figure in yellow stirred. “Why would you have this?”

  “O King, it is vanity. Though vanity is reputed not a good nor manly trait, it yet lives within me; I cannot rid myself of it.”

  “You know then that that is all? You do not make pretense to any other purpose?”

  “There is no other purpose possible to such a desire.”

  “Think you not that your desire exceeds reason, even in vanity? What will it profit you that you be remembered when dead?”

  “None. But I would know, while I yet live, that I shall be thus remembered; for this knowledge will comfort me when it comes my turn to die.”

  “So be it, Garth of the overmen; if you serve me without fail for as long as you live, I promise you that your name shall ever be known, as long as there shall be life upon this earth.”

  “I shall serve you, O King.”

  “Then listen; this is the first errand I set you . . .”

 

 

 


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