By Michael Moorcock
The concluding quantity of the glorious, epic story of the everlasting Champion, wherewe make the fearsome trip to Tanelorn, and finally the everlasting Champion's lengthy fight nears it end...volume 14 of the Millennium Uniform versions of Michael Moorcock's incredible fiction.
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Extra info for Count Brass (Eternal Champion, Volume 15)
Hawkmoon frowned. 'And what was once his message? ' 'He waits for you within the marshes each evening, there to take his vengeance upon you. ' Hawkmoon drew a deep breath. He adjusted his sword-belt on his hip. 'Then i'll visit him this night. ' Czernik seemed apparently at Hawkmoon. 'You are usually not afraid? ' 'I am now not. i do know that whoever you observed can't be count number Brass. Why should still I worry a fraud? ' 'Perhaps you don't keep in mind betraying him? ' Czernik advised vaguely. 'Perhaps it used to be all performed through the jewel you as soon as wore on your brow? may it's the jewel which pressured you to such activities, in order that while it was once got rid of you forgot all that you simply had deliberate? ' Hawkmoon provided Czernik a bleak smile. 'I thanks for that, Czernik. yet I doubt if the jewel managed me to that volume. Its nature used to be a bit assorted. ' He frowned. For a second he had began to wonder whether Czernik have been correct. it'd be scary if it have been precise . . . yet no, it might no longer be real. Yisselda might have recognized the reality, in spite of the fact that a lot he may have attempted to conceal it. Yisselda knew he was once no traitor. but anything used to be haunting the marshlands and take a look at- ing to show the people of the Kamarg opposed to him and for this reason he needs to familiarize yourself with it as soon as and for all lay the ghost and turn out to humans like Czernik that he had betrayed not anyone. He stated not anything extra to Czernik yet became and strode from the tavern, mounting his heavy black stal- lion and turning its head in the direction of town gates. during the gates he went and out into the moonlit marsh, listening to the 1st far-off, keening notes of the mistral, feeling its chilly breath on his cheek, seeing the outside of the lagoons ripple and the reeds practice an agitated dance in anticipation of the wind's complete strength which might come a couple of days later. back he permit his horse locate its personal direction, for it knew the marsh larger than did he. And in the meantime he peered in the course of the gloom, taking a look this fashion and that; searching for a ghost. bankruptcy THE assembly within the MARSH The marsh was once filled with small soundsscuttlings and slitherings, coughs, barks and hoots because the evening animals went approximately their company. occasionally a bigger beast could emerge from the darkness and mistake prior Hawkmoon. occasionally there will be a heavy splash from a lagoon as a wide fish-eating owl plunged upon its prey. yet no human figureghost or mortalwas noticeable through the Duke of Koln as he rode deeper and deeper into the darkness. Dorian Hawkmoon used to be careworn. He used to be sour. He had seemed ahead to a lifetime of rural tranquillity. the single difficulties he had expected have been the issues of breeding and planting, of the normal company of rais- ing childrens. And now this damned secret had emerged. no longer even a possibility of warfare might have disturbed him part as a lot. warfare, albeit with the darkish Empire, was once fresh in comparison to this. If he had obvious the brazen ornithopters of Gran- bretan within the skies, if he had noticeable beast-masked armies and ugly carriages and the entire different strange para- phernalia of the darkish Empire within the distance, he could have identified tips on how to take care of it.