They Never Come Back by Leo Brett Lionel Fanthorpe & Patricia Fanthorpe

Author:Leo Brett, Lionel Fanthorpe & Patricia Fanthorpe [BRETT LEO, FANTHORPE LIONEL, FANTHORPE PATRICIA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: Orion Publishing Group
Published: 2015-12-31T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XI

Pursuit

ZYNZAK of Bihor, the gigantic, bearded, old Rumanian—Merlin screamed in wrath and ferocity as Petrov Scarla literally swung from his beard, for Petrov Scarla was not a light man. Hair was coming out of the old giant’s chin in handfuls. He leapt and danced with rage, swinging Petrov this way and that like a spider swinging on the end of the thick and tangled skein of his broken web.

Gradually the roaring became articulate.

“I will destroy you!” Scarla was astounded at the old man’s strength. He had known ever since joining the coven that Zynzak of Bihor was more than mortal. He had known that Zynzak of Bihor was more than human. He had known that Zynzak was superhuman, and of incredible age. Now, added to that incredible age this all-too-terrifying revelation of incredible, unguessable strength, strength which Petrov knew could not possibly have emanated from that ancient frame.

“I will destroy you!” The guttural roar, still tinged with pain, boomed up from the giant’s throat sounding as though it had come from some cave deep in the heart of the mighty mount Bihor itself…. The monstrous magician raised his arms and with some thought of poetic justice in his mind, Petrov Scarla felt a great hand lock around his throat. He staggered back, away from the giant beard. His fingers released their hold, his feet were striking wildly at the ground. He wriggled and tried to break free, but he might just as well have tried to wriggle through an iron collar. Petrov Scarla, however, was a fighting man. He had been a semi-professional rough-houser since he was big enough to hold his own in any kind of fight. Since his early teens he had been a scrapper, and a fight to the death was no new thing to him. He knew that from the point of view of survival this was the most desperate fight in which he had ever been involved. He took hold of the little finger only of the hand which was wrapped around his throat. He strained with all his might against that one finger. There was a sickening click, and the pressure on the throat relaxed. The great cavernous voice let out a booming roar of pain. Petrov Scarla found himself staring into a pair of huge, bloodshot eyes, eyes that looked sheer death and destruction at him, eyes which burned into his very body.

He could feel the enormous mental power of Zynzak burning into him. But where the mental power had overcome the girl completely, it could only slow down the mighty mind of Petrov Scarla. In his own way, and a very peculiar way it was, Petrov Scarla was strong. He was strong in the way that a great mountain wolf is strong and free and wild and dangerous. There was strength in his freedom and there was freedom in his strength. The magician raised his damaged hand in the air and made a strange mystic pass with it. Something that might have been a dark shadow seemed to streak down through the early morning sky, for it was almost dawn.

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