Outlanders 56 - Cradle of Destiny by James Axler

Author:James Axler
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Enkidu sat up, looking to see the magnificent figure of Malesh, seven feet tall and carved of golden, nearly feline beauty. She was unmistakably human in her form, except that her apparent slimness was in proportion to a body that was stretched tall. Her limbs would have been willowy twigs on a woman of five-and-a-half feet, but at seven feet in height, the truth was that she was a powerful example of superhuman perfection. Dark hair with golden streaks poured down over her shoulders. Though Humbaba had said she was his sister, the resemblance was merely in the eyes. She could have passed for a normal woman, if humans naturally grew to seven feet or more in height. The only signs that she had alien blood were her cold, yellow cat eyes and a slight flatness to her nose, which could have simply made her African in origin. “You understand me, or I understand you,” Enkidu said numbly. “That means…” “I knew your meaning when you challenged my brother’s beast pawn,” Malesh said slowly. She milked each word of the sentence, everyone a measured intonation that held both seduction and threat toward the man. “Of course, the very fact that you traveled from Eridu to my forest was an indication of your hostile intent.” “So what kept you from eliminating me?” Enkidu asked, pushing himself to his feet. He had been lying on a mat that bore the contour of his body. He must have lain there, immobile, for the entire two weeks to have created such a perfect impression. Either that or the mat had been molded especially for him, a perfect cradle for an injured, unconscious human. He had no symptoms of stiffness, no bed sores from lying stationary for two weeks, so it was likely built to his specifications. This was not the technology of a woman who had been exiled to the primitive backwoods of a preindustrial planet. He winced as such an assumption hurt his brain due to its familiarity. Someone he had known in another lifetime had said such things, almost on a regular basis. Thus, he knew what he was talking about, but the lack of identities, either of him- self or the cherished friend who had spoken those words, reminded him of the gaping wounds in his memory.

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