fantasy

Her name was Julia, and I’d been damn certain she was dead back on April 30 when it all began. My finding her grisly remains and destroying the doglike creature which I’d thought had killed her were pretty much the way it started. And we had been lovers, which I suppose was how things had really commenced. Long before. / Perhaps I could have trusted her more. Perhaps I should never have taken hex on that shadow-walls which led to denials that took h…

As I probed forward with two of the more lethal energies of the spikard the Logrus image intercepted them and turned them off. / „I didn’t save him for you to take him out this easily,“ I said, and just then something like the image of the Pattern but not really the same flashed into existence nearby. / The Sign of the Logrus slid to my left. The new thing-whatever it was-kept pace with it, both of them passing silently through the wall. Almost immedia…

I felt no real change with the disengagement that Ragma told me was taking place. I kept my eyes firmly fixed on Charv, who was going round and round, fiddling with the Rhennius machine, with frequent reference to a manual he carried in his pouch. It was not that I was squeamish. Well, maybe it was. / The incision in my left arm stung a bit but was not especially painful. Ragma had wanted to avoid the introduction of additional chemicals of unknown …

ROGER ZELAZNY is an expatriate Ohioan who now resides on a mountaintop in New Mexico with his wife, Judy; sons Devin and Trent; daughter, Shannon; assorted typewriters, oriental rugs, unanswered letters, and science fiction awards. The awards, which he keeps close on hand in his office-„Never can tell when you might need one in a hurry“-consist of three Hugs, three Nebulas, a Balrog, and the mystical presence of the Prix Apollo. He has had 26 boo…