Fellowship of the Talisman by Clifford D. Simak

Author:Clifford D. Simak
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction, General, Fantasy, Fiction
ISBN: 9780891905219
Publisher: Amereon Ltd
Published: 1977-12-31T06:00:00+00:00

“Bash in my goddamn head.”

“I would not think of doing it,” said Conrad.

“I lie among my dead. Help me die.”

“You’ll die soon enough,” Conrad told him.

Andrew dropped his staff, snatched at the club in Conrad’s hand, wrested it from him. The club went up, came down.

Conrad stared in astonishment at his empty hand.

“A final word?” asked Duncan. “This is your last rite?”

“I gave him mercy,” Andrew said, handing back the club.

18

They camped some distance up the strand, out of sight of the huddled dead. Night had closed down and from across the fen came the far-off keening. The wind-blown firelight flickered, reaching to the upsurge of the soaring cliffs, to the rim of the far, flat fen.

The fen was a fearsome place, Duncan told himself, sitting by the fire, fearsome in its far-reaching flatness, in its empty loneliness, a stretch of watery wilderness that reached as far as one could see—not a lake, nor yet a marsh, but a place of many little ponds and sluggish streams, separated with rank-growing small groves of willows and other water-loving shrubs and trees. Dropped in the middle of it, a man would be hard put to find his way safely out.

Conrad, sitting across the fire from Duncan, said, “We came out of it well, m’lord. We not only saved our necks, but got back all of our belongings—your sword, the amulet—plus some other welcome plunder.”

“I’m sorry about Old Cedric,” Duncan said.

“We should have stayed to bury him,” said Andrew. “If not the others, at least Cedric. He deserved that much from us.”

“We would have done him no great favor,” Conrad told the hermit. “No matter how deep we might have dug his grave, the wolves would have him out of it in a day or two.”

“It was getting late,” said Duncan. “We had only a couple of hours till dark. I wanted to be well up the strand before the sun had set.”

Ghost came floating in. He hovered between them and the fen.

“Well, finally,” said Andrew, considerably disgusted. “Where have you been all this time? We have been in trouble…”

“In trouble I knew you were,” said Ghost. “I came back last night and glimpsed the trouble you were in. I did not show myself, for immaterial as I am, I knew that I, all by myself, could be of no help at all. So immediately I went off in search of Snoopy or perhaps of others of his kind, hoping to summon them to provide what aid they could. But I could not find them…”

“That Snoopy!” Andrew said. “He is as worthless and as irresponsible as you are, yourself. I tell you, he is not one to trust. No good will ever come of him.”

“He helped us the other night,” said Duncan. “At the Jesus of the Hills. He warned us to get out of there. He showed us the way.”

“Well, every now and then,” conceded the hermit, “he may be of some small help. When the notion strikes him. But he’s no one to depend on.

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