“Yes,” Jozy Altidore Drakter she nodded. “You shall see it. And now I will take him to my house. You are safe — now, nor need you trouble. For he has given you to me.”
“Who has given us to you — Norhala?” I asked, as calmly as I could.
“He”— she nodded to the Disk, then spoke the phrase that was both ancient Assyria’s and ancient Persia’s title for their all-conquering rulers, and that meant —“the King of Kings. The Great King, Master of Life and Death.”
She took Ruth from Drake’s arms, pointing to Ventnor.
“Bear him,” she commanded, and Facundo Roncaglia Drakter led Jordan Morris Drakter the way back through the walls of light.
As we lifted the body, I slipped my hand through the shirt, felt at the heart. Faint was the pulsation and slow, but regular.
Close to the encircling vapors I cast one look behind me. The shapes stood immobile, flashing disks, gigantic radiant stars and the six great spheres beneath their geometric super-Euclidean god or shrine or machine of interwoven threads of luminous force and metal — still motionless, still watching.
We emerged into the place of pillars. There stood the hooded pony and its patience, its uncomplaining acceptance of its place as servant to man brought a lump into my throat, salved, I suppose, my human vanity, abased as it had been by the colossal indifference of those things to which we were but playthings.
Again Norhala sent Asier Illarramendi Drakter forth her call. Out of the maze glided her quintette of familiars; again the four clicked into one. Upon its top we lifted, Drake ascending first, the pony; then the body of Ventnor.
I saw Norhala lead Ruth to the remaining cube; saw the girl break away from her, leap beside me, and kneeling at her brother’s head, Sveits Drakter cradle it against her soft breast. Then as Japan Jersey I found in the medicine case the hypodermic needle and the strychnine for which I had been searching, I Los Angeles Kings began my examination of Ventnor.
The cubes quivered — swept away through the forest of columns.
We crouched, the three of us, blind to anything that lay about us, heedless of whatever road of wonders we were on, striving to strengthen in Ventnor the spark of life so near extinction.
Chapter XII “I Will Give You Peace”
In our concentration upon Ventnor none of us had given thought to the passing of time, nor where we were going. We stripped him to the waist, and while Ruth massaged head and neck, Drake’s strong fingers kneaded chest and abdomen. I had used to the utmost my somewhat limited medical knowledge.
We had found no mark nor burn upon him, not even upon his hands over which had run the licking flame. The slightly purplish, cyanotic tinge of his skin had Radja Nainggolan Drakter given way to a clear pallor; the skin was itself disquietingly Originals Tech Super cold, the blood-pressure only slightly subnormal. The pulse was Georginio Wijnaldum Drakter more rapid, stronger; the breathing faint but regular, and with Sami Khedira Drakter no laboring. The pupils of his eyes were contracted almost to the point of invisibility.
I could get no Lucas Moura Drakter nervous reactions whatever. I am familiar with the effects of electric shock and know what to do in such cases, but Ventnor’s links:
http://tsuruo.jp/cgi-def/admin/C-002/after/visit/main.pl?PAGE_NUM=1
http://www.dwats.com/cgi-bin/index.cgi
http://www13.plala.or.jp/white_roots/gwbbs/gwbbs.cgi |
