Free The Guns of Avalon by Roger Zelazny Page A

do you mean?”
    “He was a foot soldier in a battle that took place there two nights ago. He turned coward during the fighting and deserted.”
    The youth began to mouth a denial and Ganelon kicked him.
    “Silence!” he said. “I’m telling it now-as you told me!”
    The boy moved sideways like a crab and looked at me with wide, pleading eyes.
    “Battle? Who was fighting?” I asked. Ganelon smiled grimly.
    “It sounds somewhat familiar,” he said. “The forces of Avalon were engaged in what seems to have been the largest-and perhaps final-of a long series of confrontations with beings not quite natural.”
    “Oh?”
    I studied the boy and his eyes dropped, but I saw the fear that was there before they fell.
    “. . . Women,” Ganelon said. “Pale furies out of some hell, lovely and cold. Armed and armored. Long, light hair. Eyes like ice. Mounted on white, firebreathing steeds that fed on human flesh, they came forth by night from a warren of caves in the mountains an earthquake opened several years ago. They raided, taking young men back with them as captives, killing all others. Many appeared later as a soulless infantry, following their van. This sounds very like the men of the Circle we knew.”
    “But many of those lived when they were freed,” I said. “They did not seem souless then, only somewhat as I once did-amnesiac. It seems strange,” I went on, “that they did not block off these caves during the day, since the riders only came forth by night...”
    “The deserter tells me this was tried,” said Ganelon, “and they always burst forth after a time, stronger than before.”
    The boy was ashen, but he nodded when I looked toward him inquiringly.
    “Their General, whom he calls the Protector, routed them many times,” Ganelon continued. “He even spent part of a night with their leader, a pale bitch named Lintra-whether in dalliance or parlay, I’m not certain. But nothing came of this. The raids continued and her forces grew stronger. The Protector finally decided to mass an all-out attack, in hopes of destroying them utterly. It was during that battle that this one fled,” he said, indicating the youth with a gesture of his blade, “which is why we do not know the ending to the story.”
    “Is that the way it was?” I asked him.
    The boy looked away from the weapon’s point, met my eyes for a moment, then nodded slowly.
    “Interesting,” I said to Ganelon. “Very. I’ve a feeling their problem is linked to the one we just solved. I wish I knew how their fight turned out” Ganelon nodded, shifted bis grip on his weapon. “Well, if we’re finished with him now. . .” he said.
    “Hold. I presume he was trying to steal something to eat?”
    “Yes.”
    “Free his hands. Well feed him.”
    “But he tried to steal from us.”
    “Did you not say that you had once killed a man for a pair of shoes?”
    “Yes, but that was different”
    “How so?”
    “I got away with it.”
    I laughed. It broke me up completely, and I could not stop langhing. He looked irritated, then puzzled. Then he began laughing himself.
    The youth regarded us as if we were a pair of maniacs.
    “All right,” said Ganelon finally, “all right,” and he stooped, turned the boy with a single push, and severed the cord that bound his wrists.
    “Come, lad,” he said. “I’ll fetch you something to eat,” and he moved to our gear and opened several food parcels.
    The boy rose and limped slowly after him. He seized the food that was offered and began eating quickly and noisily, not taking his eyes off Ganelon. His information, if true, presented me with several complications, the foremost being that it would probably be more difficult to obtain what I wanted in a war-ravaged land. It also lent weight to my fears as to the nature and extent of the disruption pattern.
    I helped Ganelon build a small fire.
    “How does this affect our plans?” he asked.
    I saw no real choice. All of the shadows near to what