It screamed along the tunnels, its banshee-wail bouncing madly from stone to stone.
Twoflower staggered up, bent double in the teeth of the astral gale.
“What the hell is this?’ he shouted.
Rincewind half-turned. Immediately the howling wind caught him, nearly pitching him over.
Poltergeist eddies, spinning in the rushing air, snatched at his feet.
Hrun’s arm Shot out and caught him. A moment later he and Twoflower had been dragged into the lee of the ravaged altar, and lay panting on the floor. Beside them the talking sword Kring sparkled, its magical field boosted a hundredfold by the storm.
“Hold on!’ screamed Rincewind.
“The wind!’ shouted Twoflower. “Where’s it coming from? Where’s it blowing to?’ He looked into Rincewind’s mask of sheer terror, which made him redouble his own grip on the stones.
‘We’re doomed,’ murmured Rincewind, while overhead the roof cracked and shifted. ‘Where do ShadowS come from? That’s where the wind is blowing. ‘
What was in fact happening, as the wizard knew, was that as the abused spirit of Bel-Shamharoth sank through the deeper chthonic planes his brooding spirit was being sucked out of the very stones into the region which, according to the discworld’s moSt reliable prieSts, was both under the ground and Somewhere Else. In consequence his temple was being abandoned to the ravages of Time, who for thousands of shamefaced years had been reluctant to go near the place. Now the suddenly released, accumulated weight of all those pent-up seconds was bearing down heavily on the unbraced stones.
Hrun glanced up at the widening cracks and sighed. Then he put two fingers into his mouth and whistled.
Strangely the real sound rang out loudly over the pseudosound of the widening astral whirlpool that was forming in the middle of the great octagonal slab. It was followed by a hollow echo which sounded, he fancied, strangely like the bouncing of strange bones. Then came a noise with no hint of strangeness. it was hollow hoofbeats.
Hrun’s warhorse cantered through a creaking archway and reared up by its master, its mane streaming in the gale. The barbarian pulled himself to his feet and slung his treasure bags into Side 62
Pratchett, Terry – Discworld 01 – The Colour of Magic a sack that hung from the saddle, then hauled himSelf onto the beast’s back. He reached down and grabbed Twoflower by the scruff of his neck dragging him acroSs the saddle tree. As the horse turned around Rincewind took a desperate leap and landed behind Hrun, who raised no objection.
The horse pounded surefooted along the tunnels leaping sudden slides of rubble and adroitly side stepping huge stones as they thundered down from the straining roof. Rincewind, clinging on grimly looked behind them.
No wonder the horse was moving so swiftly Close behind, speeding through the flickering violet light, were a large ominous-looking chest and a picture box that skittered along dangerously on its three legs. So great was the ability of sapient pearwood to follow its master anywhere, the grave goods of dead emperors had traditionally been made of it…
They reached the outer air a moment before the octagonal arch finally broke and smashed into the flags.
The sun waS rising. Behind them a column of dust rose as the temple collapsed in on itself, but they did not look back. That was a shame, because Twoflower might have been able to obtain pictures unusual even by discworld standards.
There was movement in the smoking ruins. They seemed to be growing a green carpet. Then an oak tree spiralled up, branching out like an exploding green rocket, and was in the middle of a venerable copse even before the tips of its aged branches had stopped quivering. A beech burst out like a fungus, matured, rotted, and fell in a cloud of tinder dust amid its struggling offspring. Already the temple Was a half-buried heap of mossy stones.
But Time, having initially gone for the throat, Was now setting out to complete the job. The boiling interface between decaying magic and ascendant entropy roared down the hill and overtook the galloping horse, whose riders, being themselves creatures of Time, completely failed to notice it. But it lashed into the enchanted forest with the whip of centuries.
“impressive, isn’t it?’ observed a voice by Rincewind’s knee as the horse cantered through the haze of decaying timber and falling leaves.
The voice had an eerie metallic ring to it.
Rincewind looked down at Kring the sword. It had a couple of rubies set in the pommel. He got the impression they were watching him.
From the moorland rimwards of the wood they watched the battle between the trees and Time, which could only have one ending. It was a sort of cabaret to the main business of the halt, which Was the consumption of quite a lot of a bear which had incautiously come within bowshot of Hrun.
Rincewind watched Hrun over the top of his slab of greaSy meat. Hrun going about the business of being a hero, he realised, was quite different to the wine-bibbing, carousing Hrun who occasionally came to Ankh-Morpork. He was cat-cautious, lithe as a panther, and thoroughly at home.
And I’ve survived Bel-Shamharoth, Rincewind reminded himself. Fantastic.
Twoflower was helping the hero sort through the treasure stolen from the temple. It was mostly silver set with unpleasant purple stones.
Side 63
Pratchett, Terry – Discworld 01 – The Colour of Magic Representations of spiders, octopi and the tree-dwelling octarsier of the hubland wastes figured largely in the heap.
Rincewind tried to shut his ears to the grating voice beside him. It was no use.
” and then I belonged to the Pasha of Re’durat and played a prominent part in the battle of the Great Nef, which is where I received the slight nick you may have noticed some two-thirds of the way up my blade,’ Kring was saying from its temporary home in a tussock. “Some infidel was wearing an octiron collar, most unsporting, and of course I was a lot sharper in those days and my maSter used to use me to cut silk handkerchiefs in mid-air and – am I boring you?’
‘Huh? Oh, no, no, not at all. It’s all very interesting,’ said Rincewind, with his eyes still on Hrun. How trustworthy would he be? Here they were, out in the wilds, there were trolls about . . .
“I could see you were a cultured person,’ Kring went on. ” seldom do I get to meet really interesting people, for any length of time, anyway.
What I’d really like is a nice mantelpiece to hang over, somewhere nice and quiet. I spent a couple of hundred years on the bottom of a lake once.’
“That must have been fun,’ said Rincewind absently.
“Not really,’ said Kring.
“No, I suppose not.’
“What I’d really like is to be a ploughshare. I don’t know what that is, but it sounds like an existence with some point to it.
Twoflower hurried over to the wizard
“I had a great idea,’ he burbled.
“Why don’t we
‘Yah,’ said Rincewind, wearily.
get Hrun to accompany us to Quirm?’
Twoflower looked amazed. “How did you know?’
he said. “I just thought you’d think it,’ said Rincewind.
Hrun ceased stuffing silverware into his saddlebagS and grinned encouragingly at them. Then his eyeS Strayed back to the Luggage.
.if we had him with us, who’d attack us?’ said Twoflower.
Rincewind scratched his chin. “Hrun?’ he suggested.
“But we saved his life in the Temple!’
.Well, if by attack you mean kill,” said Rincewind, “i don’t think he’d do that. He’s not that sort.
He’d just rob us and tie us up and leave us for the wolves, I expect.’
“Oh, come on.’
“Look, this is real life,’ snapped Rincewind. ‘I mean, here you are, carrying around a box full of gold, don’t you think anyone in their right minds would jump at the chance of pinching it?’ I would he added mentally – if I hadn’t seen what the Luggage does to prying fingers.
Then the answer hit him. He looked from Hrun to the picture box. The picture imp was doing itS
laundry in a tiny tub, while the salamanders dozed in their cage.
“I’ve got an idea,’ he said. “i mean, what is it heroeS really want?’
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Pratchett, Terry – Discworld 01 – The Colour of Magic
‘Gold?’ said Twoflower.
gNo. I mean really want.’
Twoflower frowned. “i don’t quite understand he Said. Rincewind picked up the picture box.
“Hrun,’ he Said. cCome over here, will you?
The dayS passed peacefully. True, a small band of bridge trolls tried to ambush them on one occasion, and a party of brigands nearly caught them unawares one night (but unwisely tried to investigate the Luggage before slaughtering the sleepers). Hrun demanded, and got, double pay for both occasions.
“if any harm comes to us,’ said Rincewind, “then there will be no-one to operate the magic box. No more pictures of Hrun, you understand?’