Arena of Antares Read Online Free

the River Magan, had looked like Rapechak to me, and not like any other Rapa.
    This second flying man said: “They are apim. I say we do not trust them.”
    “And I say,” said the leader, in a fashion I admired, “that I will stick you if you do not keep quiet, Quarda.”
    “We are apim,” I said. “But we are not Canops.”
    The leader laughed. It was a good belly-laugh, rich and round and boiling up from a well-filled stomach.
    “We know that, dom. Had you been Canops you would have stepped upon the road as dead men.”
    “That’s comforting to know.”
    He thought I meant it was comforting to know we had not been killed. What he did not know was that I scented allies here in the straggle to come against the iron men from Canopdrin.
    One of the other flying men in the pack shouted: “The Miglas will be here soon. There was enough noise and torches on the river — let us kill them and be gone.”
    The leader did not turn.
    He said, “Quincher — hit that onker Quilly for me.”
    There came the sound of a blow and a yelp from the dark mass of flying men. The leader nodded, as though satisfied. I rather liked his style.
    “You tell me who you are, dom,” he said. “And then we will decide to kill you — or not.”
    I am not given to idle boasts. “Tell me who you are.”
    He spoke in a very reasonable tone. “You are unarmed. We have weapons, of bronze and of steel. Surely, you must see it is in your own interests to tell us first. After, I will be happy to tell you, and, by the Golden Feathers of Father Qua, it would sadden me to slay a man without weapons in his hands.”
    I glanced at Turko. He did not betray his thoughts, but they were clear enough.
    “What you say is indeed reasonable, dom. This is Turko, a Great Kham, and these are two foolish girls, Saenda and Quaesa, who live on the opposite shore of the Shrouded Sea.”
    “And you?”
    The dark eyes regarded me with a closer intent.
    “My name is Dray Prescot.”
    A buzz of conversation from the flying men, which told me they had not heard of me or of Turko, was followed by the leader bellowing for order. He took a few steps forward, his tail high and arrogant in that pink moonlight.
    “I am Obquam of Tajkent. I seek for a certain cramph of a volrok called Rakker — Largan Rakker of the Triple Peaks. Know you of this vile reaver and his whereabouts?”
    “No, Horter Obquam,” I said at once. There was no sense in beating about the bush here. “We were attacked by the whole pack of volroks and escaped only because they attacked the Canops in the galleys. This Rakker — he has done you an injury?”
    “Aye! And more, may the black talons of Deevi Quruk rip out his entrails and strip his wings so that he falls into the Ice Floes of Sicce!”
    For the moment I had learned all I needed to know. Local detail could be filled in later. At any moment the commotion which had attracted so much unwelcome attention would bring a patrol of Canops to the scene. There was light enough still to see the wheeling flock of volroks above the galleys, although they were hidden from direct view. I fancied there were fewer flying men over there. I put it to this Obquam of Tajkent.
    “If the one you seek flies with that pack there, why do you not wing over and discover the truth for yourself?”
    He drew himself up, not so much with hauteur as with offended pride. I had suggested blatantly enough that Turko shook his hands and arms, loosening up, readying for the fight he thought must be imminent.
    “Look there, apim!” Obquam pointed.
    Out over the river the volroks were in turmoil. Their thin screeching reached us blown on the wind. Now among them appeared the larger and bulkier shapes of men astride flying beasts and birds, flutsmen astride fluttrells, as I thought then. The gleam of weapons turned to a bright glittering. I saw volroks falling, and fluttrells, too, with their riders pitching off to dangle by their clerketers all the way into the water.
    The