Garan the Eternal Read Online Free PDF Page A

watchdogs and slaves of the Black Ones.
    From a second pair of stairs directly across the pit arose a moaning call. A door opened and two men came down the steps. The morgels surged forward, but fell back when whips were cracked over their heads.
    The masters of the morgels were human in appearance. Black loincloths were twisted about them and long, wing-shaped cloaks hung from their shoulders. On their heads, completely masking their hair, were cloth caps which bore ragged crests not unlike cockscombs. As far as Garin could see they were unarmed except for their whips.
    A second party was coming down the steps. Between two of the Black Ones struggled a prisoner. He made a desperate and hopeless fight of it, but they dragged him to the edge ofthe pit before they stopped. The morgels, intent upon their promised prey, crouched beneath them.
    Five steps above were two figures to whom the guards looked for instructions. One was a man of their race, of slender, handsome body and evil, coldly patrician face. His hand rested possessively upon the arm of his companion.
    It was Thrala who stood beside him, her head proudly erect. The curves of laughter were gone from her lips; there was only sorrow and resignation to be seen there now. But her spirit burned like a white flame in her eyes.
    “Look!” her warder ordered. “Does not Kepta keep his promises? Shall we give Dandtan into the jaws of our slaves, or will you take back certain words of yours, Lady Thrala?”
    The prisoner answered for her: “Kepta, son of vileness, Thrala is not for you. Remember, Beloved One"—he spoke directly to the Daughter—"the day of deliverance is at hand!”
    Garin felt a sudden strange emptiness at the ease with which the prisoner had called Thrala “beloved.”
    “I await Thrala’s answer,” Kepta demanded. And her answer he got.
    “Beast among beasts, you may send Dandtan to his death, you may heap all manner of insults and evil upon me, but still I say the Daughter is not for your touch. Rather will I cut the line of life with my own hands, taking upon me the punishment of the Elder Ones.” She lowered her gaze to the prisoner. “To you, Dandtan, I say farewell. We shall meet again beyond the Curtain of Time.” She held out her hands to him.
    “Thrala, dear one—!” One of his guards slapped a hand over the prisoner’s mouth, putting an end to his words.
    But now Thrala was looking beyond him, straight at the grill which sheltered Garin. Kepta pulled at her arm to gain her attention. “Watch! Thus do my enemies die. To the pit with him!”
    The guards forced their prisoner toward the edge of the pit and the morgels crept closer, their eyes fixed upon that young, writhing body. Garin knew that he must take no hand in the game. The Ana was tugging him to the right and there was an open archway leading to a balcony running around the side of the pit.
    Those below were too entranced by the coming sport to notice the invader. But Thrala glanced up and Garin thought that she sighted him. Something in her attitudeattracted Kepta; he too looked up. For a moment he stared in stark amazement, and then he thrust the Daughter through the door behind him.
    “Ho, outlander! Welcome to the Caves. So the Folk have meddled—”
    “Greeting, Kepta.” Garin himself was surprised at the words which fell so easily from his tongue. “I have come as was promised, to remain until the Black Throne is no more.”
    “Not even the morgels boast before their prey lies limp in their jaws,” flashed Kepta. “What manner of beast are you?”
    “A clean beast, Kepta, which you are not. Bid your two-legged morgels loose the youth, lest I grow impatient” He swung the green rod into view.
    Kepta’s eyes narrowed but his smile did not fade. “I have heard of old that the Ancient Ones do not destroy—”
    “As an outlander I am not bound by their limits,” retorted Garin, “as you will learn if you do not call off your stinking pack.”
    The master of