Fortress of Lost Worlds Read Online Free
skin prickled. He glanced about the cavern circumspectly, but there seemed nothing to fear. He had crossed the Pyrenees several times, knew its lore, yet he could recall nothing about this.
Still, something troubled him. There was a long-ago campfire warning. Whose? Concerning what?
He shrugged at last and moved deeper into the system of caverns. Which was to be preferred: succumbing helplessly to the pitiless wrath of winter or matching strike for strike with some unknown, faceless terror?
They crept deeper into the beckoning womb of the glowing cavern system.
Hearing the gurgle of water, Gonji discovered a small cavern wherein bubbled a cool mountain stream. Wending down from the snowmelt high above them, it poured through a fissure and meandered along an eroded course that carried it into other caves beyond. Flowing like molten gold in the basking rays of the heat stones, it emerged clear and cold in the samurai’s scooping sallet. Tasting it gingerly at first, Gonji found it delightful and, abandoning all caution, slaked his thirst. Tora awaited no invitation, doing likewise.
In this cave Gonji discovered shelves of rock, untouched by the light of the glowstones, in which sprouted mushrooms of a familiar, edible variety. These he wolfed down with audible appreciation, staying his eagerness after a while out of both discipline and common sense. For although his belly grumbled for more, it would be tender in its shriveled state; further, the warrior who glutted himself to bursting in the face of possible enemy action burdened himself with two enemies.
Higher up on the cave wall—a short reach from Tora’s stirrups—there grew a curious dwarf tree that, upon close inspection, was found to yield small berries that were tart but edible. These Tora took a liking to, though his interest soon switched to the leaves of the tiny tree itself.
The tantalizing thought occurred to Gonji: What else might I discover in this mount-of-plenty if I move still deeper? But he quickly remembered that his life followed no such serendipitous progression and dispersed the seductive vision of a cave in which table was set with trout, fresh bread, and French wine. Instead, he sat back and counted his blessings, then inventoried his fingers and toes.
The layered weather-wrapping he slowly removed had barely preserved his digits against permanent damage, but indeed no serious harm had been done. When the prickling burn of frostbite had ceased, he rose and tried to make Tora as comfortable as possible while soothing and examining the faithful steed. Satisfied, Gonji was again drawn to the amazing heat stones.
Gathering several of these into a pile, he scraped and chipped at them with his tanto knife. He learned that as he worked off outer layers of the rock—which crumbled readily under pressure—the stones grew both brighter and hotter. The core itself, he painfully discovered, would cook flesh or boil water in its blinding yellow or cobalt sear. He constructed a fine hearth and nodded with self-satisfaction.
No more running. Here I make my stand this night.
With deep reverence and measured movements, he sat cross-legged before the pulsing glow. Holding the magnificent Sagami horizontally before his vision, he drew its gleaming blade slowly from the scabbard. His eyes diminished to dark slits of flickering ebon as he studied the heavenly coruscations flashing from the wave pattern of the blade’s working.
If any night fiend or cave-haunt dare disturb my harmony…
Memories tortured his serenity. He ground his teeth when he thought of the gargantuan cave worm that had tried to eat its way through the militia of Vedun. Of the wyvern’s strafing flight, spewing missiles of filth; of the Black Forest dragon; the weeping vampire sisters; Wolverangue, the Hellspawn…
Gonji smiled thinly and replaced the splendid blade. He laid it along his left side—the place of easy draw—and set about heating water for a ritual cleansing that was
Still, something troubled him. There was a long-ago campfire warning. Whose? Concerning what?
He shrugged at last and moved deeper into the system of caverns. Which was to be preferred: succumbing helplessly to the pitiless wrath of winter or matching strike for strike with some unknown, faceless terror?
They crept deeper into the beckoning womb of the glowing cavern system.
Hearing the gurgle of water, Gonji discovered a small cavern wherein bubbled a cool mountain stream. Wending down from the snowmelt high above them, it poured through a fissure and meandered along an eroded course that carried it into other caves beyond. Flowing like molten gold in the basking rays of the heat stones, it emerged clear and cold in the samurai’s scooping sallet. Tasting it gingerly at first, Gonji found it delightful and, abandoning all caution, slaked his thirst. Tora awaited no invitation, doing likewise.
In this cave Gonji discovered shelves of rock, untouched by the light of the glowstones, in which sprouted mushrooms of a familiar, edible variety. These he wolfed down with audible appreciation, staying his eagerness after a while out of both discipline and common sense. For although his belly grumbled for more, it would be tender in its shriveled state; further, the warrior who glutted himself to bursting in the face of possible enemy action burdened himself with two enemies.
Higher up on the cave wall—a short reach from Tora’s stirrups—there grew a curious dwarf tree that, upon close inspection, was found to yield small berries that were tart but edible. These Tora took a liking to, though his interest soon switched to the leaves of the tiny tree itself.
The tantalizing thought occurred to Gonji: What else might I discover in this mount-of-plenty if I move still deeper? But he quickly remembered that his life followed no such serendipitous progression and dispersed the seductive vision of a cave in which table was set with trout, fresh bread, and French wine. Instead, he sat back and counted his blessings, then inventoried his fingers and toes.
The layered weather-wrapping he slowly removed had barely preserved his digits against permanent damage, but indeed no serious harm had been done. When the prickling burn of frostbite had ceased, he rose and tried to make Tora as comfortable as possible while soothing and examining the faithful steed. Satisfied, Gonji was again drawn to the amazing heat stones.
Gathering several of these into a pile, he scraped and chipped at them with his tanto knife. He learned that as he worked off outer layers of the rock—which crumbled readily under pressure—the stones grew both brighter and hotter. The core itself, he painfully discovered, would cook flesh or boil water in its blinding yellow or cobalt sear. He constructed a fine hearth and nodded with self-satisfaction.
No more running. Here I make my stand this night.
With deep reverence and measured movements, he sat cross-legged before the pulsing glow. Holding the magnificent Sagami horizontally before his vision, he drew its gleaming blade slowly from the scabbard. His eyes diminished to dark slits of flickering ebon as he studied the heavenly coruscations flashing from the wave pattern of the blade’s working.
If any night fiend or cave-haunt dare disturb my harmony…
Memories tortured his serenity. He ground his teeth when he thought of the gargantuan cave worm that had tried to eat its way through the militia of Vedun. Of the wyvern’s strafing flight, spewing missiles of filth; of the Black Forest dragon; the weeping vampire sisters; Wolverangue, the Hellspawn…
Gonji smiled thinly and replaced the splendid blade. He laid it along his left side—the place of easy draw—and set about heating water for a ritual cleansing that was
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