Amazon Slaughter & Curse of the Ninja by Piers Anthony & Roberto Fuentes

Author:Piers Anthony & Roberto Fuentes [Anthony, Piers & Fuentes, Roberto]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

After that my memory becomes sketchy. Perhaps it was the recurring agony of the gallstone, or the mind-affecting coca I chewed to alleviate it; more likely it was what happened next. I was entering the most awful period of my life, physically, mentally and emotionally. But that’s another story, a tortuous one. I can provide only snatches, with certain retrospective interpretations, and I can not promise even these are completely accurate. So for what little it may be worth, I offer these bits:

The Black Castle seemed to be in ruins, surely that’s a mistaken image, but I swear that’s what I remember, with stones tumbled about. The plain around it seemed to have been flooded recently, though there was no river in sight, and there was a stench as of a recent bloody battlefield.

Inside it was bare, but that was only the surface. Below there was an incredible labyrinth of tunnels and chambers. Like an iceberg, nine-tenths of the castle was beneath the surface. The important thing was that we had made it; we were safe!

Except—another horrible vision. The boylike Fu Antos, larger than I remembered him but still a child, met me not with open arms of welcome, but with a great sword. This memory is the most nonsensical of all; it could never have happened that way! I was surely delirious. But I report the snatch as I have it. I, crippled by my physical agony and sheer astonishment, was unable to resist effectively. Those terrible hypnotic eyes of the lord of the ninjas, four hundred years old; the gleaming blade swinging at my head—

It was Dulce who threw herself between us, intercepting the sword with a wooden chair. “Stop!” she cried. “Spare him, Lord Ninja! Only let him live, and I will do as you wish.”

And what could Fu Antos want of Dulce, whom he had never met before? More of my delirium, of course; I must have run a hell of a fever!

Yet I found myself alone on a crude wooden raft, drifting down the mighty Amazon River, with only a few coca leaves for sustenance.

In my fevered vision, that I knew must be untrue, I had been betrayed by my best friend, Fu Antos, at the time I least suspected. With my lucky Figa lost, only the sacrifice of the girl who loved me, Dulce, had saved my life.

All false, of course. But one thing was not false: I was dying. For my gallstone had not been removed. My whole body was turning yellow from the jaundice of this malady. I could not survive long.

Something bit my hand, which was dragging in the water. I jerked it out. Must be piranha fishes; they would get me in the end. My whole life passed before me, as I have recorded it now. For now the pain was starting again.

I hear the cry, the raucous scream of some hungry jungle bird. It sounds like the gleeful laughter of a vengeful voodoo god. But it fades as I

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