The Ship Of Ishtar by Abraham Merritt

Author:Abraham Merritt
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: The Reading Room
Published: 2011-11-09T09:08:38+00:00

CHAPTER 17

THEY SEEK SORCERERS’ ISLE

Luck clung to them. The silver mists hung close about the ship, shrouding her so that she sailed within a circle not more than double her length. Ever the mists hid her. Kenton, sleeping little, drove the slaves at the oar to point of exhaustion.

“There is a great storm brewing,” warned Sigurd.

“Pray Odin that it may hold back till we are well within Emakhtila,” answered Kenton.

“If we but had a horse I would sacrifice it to the All Father,” said Sigurd. “Then he would hold that storm till our needs called it.”

“Speak low, lest the sea horses trample us!” warned Kenton.

He had questioned the Viking about that interruption of his when the captain of the captured galley had said that the captured woman was Priestess of Bel’s Bower.

“She will be safe there, even from Klaneth—so long as she takes no other lover than the god,” Sigurd had said.

“No other lover than the god!” Kenton had roared, hand dropping to sword and glaring at Sigurd. “She shall have no lover but me—god or man, Sigurd! What do you mean?”

“Take hand from sword. Wolf,” Sigurd had replied. “I meant not to offend you. Only—gods are gods! And there was something in that captain’s talk about your woman walking in dream, memory withdrawn from her—was there not? If that be so—blood-brother—you are in those memories she has lost!”

Kenton winced.

“Nergal once tried to part a man and a woman who loved,” he said, “even as Sharane and I. He could not. I do not think Nergal’s priest can succeed where his master failed.”

“Not well reasoned, Wolf.” It was Zubran who had come quietly upon them. “The gods are strong. Therefore they have no reason for subtlety or cunning. They smite—and all is done. It is not artistic, I admit—but it is unanswerable. And man, who has not the strength of the gods, must resort to cunning and subtlety. That is why man will do worse things than the gods. Out of his weakness he is forced to it. The gods should not be blamed —except for making man weaker than they. And therefore Klaneth is more to be feared by you than Nergal, his master.”

“He cannot drive me out of Sharane’s heart!” Kenton cried.

The Viking bent his head down to the compass.

“You may be right,” he muttered. “Zubran may be right. All I know is that while your woman is faithful to Bel, no man may harm her!”

Vague as he might be on that one point, the Viking was direct and full of meat upon others. The Norseman had been observant while slave to the priests of Nergal. He knew the city and the Temple of the Seven Zones intimately. Best of all he knew a way of entering Emakhtila by another road than that of its harbor.

This was indeed all important, since it was not within the bounds of possibility that they could enter that harbor without instant recognition.

“Look, comrades,” Sigurd scratched with point of sword a rude map on the planks of the deck.

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