(eng) L. Sprague de Camp - Harold Shea 04 by The Enchanter Reborn

Author:The Enchanter Reborn [Reborn, The Enchanter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

IV. KNIGHT AND THE ENEMY

Harold Shea, tired of walking along the unchanging road, thumped down solidly on the nearest rock. He sighed and stared at the bleak landscape around him. On one side, low hills rolled to the horizon, rounded and grimly browned, dotted with clumps of dead grass and stunted trees. On the other, a flat plain sprawled, equally sere and rocky but dotted in the distance with windmills that spun slowly in the hot, sluggish breeze, as if any movement were an effort. The sun lay near the horizon, but it was obviously rising; the day could only get hotter. A steady breeze blew past, but it was already stifling and heavy with dust. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, and the heavy woolen tunics from the world of Aeneid, stuck to his skin wherever they touched.

Behind him, Reed Chalmers groaned and muttered, "I don't suppose you have any idea where we might be now, do you, Harold?"

"I'd considered asking you the same question." Shea watched the dusty two-rut road that bisected the parched hills. A shimmer and a pillar of dust crept along the road out of the hills, moving closer. He felt at his side for the reassuring presence of the saber, and curled his fingers around the wire-wrapped grip inside the basket hilt. It was a good saber—a better travelling weapon even than the épée that had served him so well in previous jaunts. When forms materialized inside the nearing dust cloud, he merely smiled. After all, a man who had fought giants side by side with the god Heimdall, and bested foul enchanters in the world of the Faerie Queen, had little to fear.

"Someone's coming," he told his associate.

Chalmers, who had been watching the listless performance of the windmills, looked where Shea pointed. "Quite so," he agreed. The psychologist ducked behind a boulder. "I hope they aren't hostile. Why don't we stay out of sight—at least until we get some idea what universe we're in?"

Shea remained standing and used his hand to shade his eyes while he tried to make out details of the approaching figures. All he could make out was that there were two of them. "I hope they can tell us where to find something to eat. I'm starving."

"While I value you as a travelling companion, Harold," Chalmers huffed, "I find you lacking in prudence. Get out of sight! May I remind you that dead men have very little need for food?"

"I'd rather you didn't," Shea said, and kept his eyes on the approaching travellers. "I'll just watch from here, thanks."

"I wish you wouldn't take this attitude toward adventures," Chalmers fumed. "You refuse to consider that I am not a young man anymore, and that my contributions to this campaign must be mental, not physical."

Shea chuckled. "You're saying that you're a theoretician, not a fighter?" He glanced over his shoulder at the psychologist and raised an eyebrow. "I already knew that, Reed." Shea looked back down the road. "I can finally make them out.

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