"Camp & Lin Carter - Conan Of Cimmeria - 01 - The Curse Of The Monolith" - читать интересную книгу автора (Camp L. Sprague de)

Frantically, he pulled his arm out of the sleeve of the unlaced
side of the mail shirt. With his free hand, he unbuckled his
sword belt and the chin strap of his helmet. Then he tore
himself loose altogether form the deadly constriction of the
mail, leaving his tulwar and his armor flattened against the
stone.

He staggered free of the column and stood for an instant on
trembling legs. The moonlit world swam before his eyes.

Glancing back, he saw that the jelly-beast had now engulfed his
helmet. Baffled in its quest for flesh, it was sending more
pseudopods down and outward, wavering and questing in the watery
light.

Down the slope, the demoniac piping continued. Feng sat cross-
legged on the grass of the slope, tweedling away on his flute as
if absorbed in some inhuman ecstasy.

Conan ripped off and threw away the gag. He pounced like a
striking leopard. He came down, clutching hands first, upon the
little duke; the pair rolled down the rest of the slope in a
tangle of silken robe and thrashing limbs. A blow to the side of
the head subdued Feng's struggles. Conan groped into the
Khitan's wide sleeves and tore out the ivory cylinder containing
the documents.

Then Conan lurched back up the hill, dragging Feng after him. As
he reached the level section around the base of the monolith, he
heaved Feng into the air over his head. Seeing what was
happening to him, the duke uttered one high, thin scream as Conan
hurled him at the shaft. The Khitan struck the column with a
thud and slid unconscious to the ground at its base. The blow
was merciful, for the duke never felt the slimy touch of the
haunter of the monolith as the glassy tentacles reached his face.
For a moment, Conan grimly watched. Feng's features blurred as
the rippling jelly slid over them. Then the flesh faded away,
and the skull and teeth showed through in a ghastly grin. The
abomination flushed pink as it fed.

5.
Conan strode back to camp on stiff legs. Behind him, like a
giant's torch, the monolith stood against the sky, wrapped in
smoky, scarlet flames.

It had been the work of moments only to strike fire into dry
tinder with his flint and steel. He had watched with grim
satisfaction as the oily surface of the slime-monster ignited and
blazed as it squirmed in voiceless agony. Let them both burn, he
thought: the half-digested corpse of that treacherous dog and his