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The Lerios Mecca

Dirsham: Tilter of Worldes: Book 1

Gene Lancour

Noise filled the room. Several of the Masters closed around Gadeth, helping him off with his official robes. The cowled figure that Dirsham recognized as Keerem came over to him. In his hands he held Akmatoth, the weapon that dirsham had gotten in the dead city of Telhawa. "Here is your blade. I brought both, in case it should come to this by some odd chance. You are favored by Rema. the Grandmaster wants to break the powers of the local Chapters and chose this way to do it. Had I known he was planning this I would have warned you, but the man keeps his own counsel."

Dirsham smiled a mirthless grin. "No matter, now I have the chance I needed. I take it he is a good fighter, otherwise he would not have chosen to use the knife. "

The War Machines of Kalinth

Dirsham: Tilter of Worldes: Book 2

Gene Lancour

The two nomads had been tracking Dirshan for over two days; now it was time to end this menace to his back trail...

As they approached the rolled-up blankets below that simulated his sleeping body, Dirshan rose to his bull height on the ruin above them. Ajavelin was in one hand. One mightly heave of his are and the spear, aided by gravity and the powe of his throw, plunged out the darkness and transfixed the first Kalinthian as he bent over the file. The second nomad has one chance to look up before the secon javelin found his body. It plunged deep into and through his stomach, pinning him to the ground. Except for his moand, the night was again quiet.

Dirshan remained on the parapet above, careful not to outline himself against the moon behind. No movement came from the ground except the heaving form of the second nomad clutching at his belly. But it was buried too deep and he could but remain beside his dead companion.

Finally sure he was alone, Dirshan came down from his perch and walked over to the struggling man. In the moonlight he was clearly visible, eyes dark pools dilated from the pain. His hands, blood from tugging at the shaft, fluttered feebly at his stomach. Dirshan watched him for a second. At another maon he removed his dagger from the sheath and cut his throat. One final gurgle and the Kalinthisn subsided, his soul with whatever dark gods he worshiped. Dirshan wiped the blade on the corpse's jerkin and stood erect...

Right into the arrow that slammed into his back...

Sword for the Empire

Dirsham: Tilter of Worldes: Book 3

Gene Lancour

He carefully put the ne wbow in its case ans slung it by the attached straps ove r his back. In the process he has to remove his oouch, and it was then he remembered the cavern underneath the tny isle. He removed the small carved box he has taken there; still with its curious weight and incised with the strange glyphs. He handed this to Jahnlig, saying, "Since words of friendship have passed between us I will say nothing of the bow, but I offer this in return. I know not what it is, but it may be that your craft can discover a use for it."

Handlig received it, his face lighting up as he moved itnot eh light inorder to more carefully examine the glyphs. What he saw there seemed to give him a start, for with quick steps he walked over to one of the table. Spreading out a dark cloth he carefully se the box theron and opened it.. Handlig gave out a gasp of pleasure. He clapped Dirsham around the shoulder and said: "You have rewarded me princely for my meager gift, for this might be the key with wich one can unlock the prison that holds me...

It is a mantle of stealth, created by the wizard, Singonath... this piece of cloth--once the jewel is charged--if wrapped around the neck will convery to the wearer complete invisibility for as long as the charge of the jewel remains..."

The Man-Eaters of Cascalon

Dirsham: Tilter of Worldes: Book 4

Gene Lancour

All was quiet in the darkness, the sound of fighting fading as he went forward. Some steady walking and then suddenly from a wide bend in the rocky passage Dirshan could make out a seeping light that filered and shone in the blackness. He paused, letting his eyes adjust to it, not liking its strange beauty and comlelling feeling that he was being drawn to it. Dirshan flexed his hand on his blade. Something warned him strongly of renewed danger, for that waxing light afore him was not from a torch, and as he cautiously advanced it began to grow brighter with a cold brilliance. It waxed in strength even as he watched, seeming to pulse liek the slow steady breathing of some gigantic beast. Suddenly Dirshan dropped to his hands and knees, creeping foward to peer around the concealing mass of rock that obscured his vision into the rest of the passage...

There was a widening of the passage beyond that created what was in effect a large chamber. Here were gathered five of the white-garbed Ayal. A sixth form, that of Liiene, was slumped to the floor, staring as if dead on an object which shone with a pulsing brilliance and was the source of the strange light. Because of this Dirshan could not get an exact idea of its shape and fashion, though it seemed to have the outline of an open box of unknown work. But it shome with a light that gripped the mind and pierced the soul, drawing his attention like a war beacon in the blackness. All about it moved the shapes of the five Ayal, murmering some strange and uncouth cantrip as they moved their hands in obedience to some arcane ritual. Dirshan felt the pull of that light, his mind sucking down the shafts of light that came from it into oblivion.