His groping hand reached up and found the edge of
the wall; his fingers grasped it gratefully and he pulled himself up to
hang by both hands and survey the interior of the fortress.
A deserted floor stretched before him, shadowed by the late-afternoon
darkness which crept down from the mountains to rest on the aged remains
of the city. Forty feet down the walkway he saw stairs descending, but
his head swam and all he could focus on clearly was the light film of
dust and sand which covered even this topmost level of the city, blown
in shallow drifts against the walls which rose a few feet above the
floor here. There were no footprints in that dust; no one had walked
here for thousands of years.
Wearily, he pulled himself over the last barrier and fell numbly to the
floor, where he lay for long minutes fighting for breath. His lungs were
raw; the thin air of the planet caught and rasped in his throat. His
hands were torn and bleeding, and the knife-scar over his right eye had
begun to throb, but he ignored the pain.
Pages:
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140