Free In the Moons of Borea by Brian Lumley

for more than ever before he kept his thoughts closed to her. This could well be for her own good; he might not want her sharing his worries; but on the other hand was it not at least feasible that he secretly harboured a desire to be rid of her and Borea forever?
    And always the problem returned to the same stumbling block — the question of the Warlord's loyalty, his love for her — so that in the end Armandra resigned herself to the one possible course of action. If the time should ever arrive when she could assist de Marigny in the recovery of his time-clock, then she would do so, and in so doing, she would give the man she called husband, Hank Silberhutte, every opportunity to leave her.
    Having made her decision and considered its possible conclusions, she then turned her thoughts to certain inner nightmares — to dwell upon the vast spaces between the stars and the even greater voids between dimensions — and having done so, she shuddered. Long and long had her father tried to tempt her away to walk with him on the winds that continually blow between the worlds . . . and wasn't she his daughter? If Hank Silberhutte had not come to Borea when he did, then by now she might —
    But thoughts of Silberhutte, her man from the Mother-world, and of their man-child, stilled her fears at once. No, it could never happen, she was sure of the Warlord's love; so sure that at the first opportunity she would put him to the ultimate test. Then she would see what she would see, for only then could her faith in him — her great love for him — earn its reward .. .

8 Rough Justice
    De Marigny was asleep and dreaming wonderful dreams of Elysia, of Earth's dreamworld, and of all the strange and marvellous planets out on the very rim of existence, so that he all but cried out in anger when Hank Silberhutte shook him unceremoniously awake.
    `Henri, wake up, there's something you should see. This may be our chance to get the clock back!'
    Hearing the Warlord's words, the dull edge of sleep was driven instantly from de Marigny's mind. He got up and quickly followed Silberhutte to one of the square windows overlooking the white waste. Even without binoculars he could see a lot of unaccustomed activity about the Snow-Thing's distant altar. lthaqua's peoples were there in their thousands, forming a dark oval blot on the white of the frozen earth.
    Taking up his glasses and focusing them on the distant scene, de Marigny asked: 'Why has he mustered them? Is there to be an attack on the plateau?'
    The Warlord shook his head. 'No, not that. He lost three-quarters of his army the last time he tried it — yes, and he learned a terrible lesson in the bargain. They've gathered to witness his departure, to be instructed in the arts of their master and to be reminded of the penalties for any sort of treason or action in defiance of his laws. When last the Wind-Walker was away raping and murdering some poor girl of the tribes, three of his wolf-warriors — probably relatives of the girl — tried to defect to the plateau. It's not the first time; we've gained several useful citizens that way even in the time I've been here. On this occasion, however, they . .
    He paused and shrugged. 'This time they were caught and taken back alive. Before he goes, Ithaqua will deal with them.'
    `He'll kill them?' de Marigny asked.
    The Warlord nodded. 'It won't be pleasant to watch, and that's not why I awakened you. My reason for doing so is simple: once Ithaqua leaves Borea, we may be able to recover the time-clock. And the sooner we get moving the better. Armandra says she'll help us — in fact she seems to have turned completely about-face on the thing. She wouldn't even talk of it at one time — now she says she'll do all she can to help you get the clock back.'
    `But that's marv-' de Marigny began, but the Warlord cut him off with:
    `Look there. What's happening now?'
    Again training his binoculars on the totem temple, de Marigny answered, 'The ice-priests