Howdy, all! In the wake of Snowpocalypse 2008, in which we got inches—inches!—of snow and therefore couldn't possibly make it into the office, but rather holed up in our houses waiting for the imminent apocalypse, we're all rushing a bit to catch up and get our latest books off to press. Books like The Reavers of Skaith, Leigh Brackett's epic conclusion to the Eric John Stark novels which began with The Secret of Sinharat. For a taste of what's in store for all you Planet Stories aficionados, check out this scene, which made it onto the cover, illustrated by James Ryman:
Victims customarily went smiling to their deaths. Only at the very end, when they had been cast into the sea and the Children had begun to share them, were there cries amid the blood and the floating garlands; and both cries and blood were pleasing to the Mother. The monks sang in their growling voices and did not notice that Stark had ceased to smile.
He was still beyond any rational thought. He only knew the death was coming swiftly through the silken water to claim him. The life within him stirred—a simple, uncomplicated force that rose of itself to fight against extinction.
Ashton was at his right hand. At his left was a monk, and then a second monk, and then the unguarded edge of the steps.
Stark swung his left arm viciously. The blow took the nearer monk across the throat and swept him back into those who climbed behind him. In falling, he clutched at the second monk and cost him his balance. Blue-robes tumbled and fell, splashing into the shallow water. Stark rushed up out of the space he had opened, clearing more space ahead of him by knocking other monks into the water. Hands caught at him, tearing away the garlands but slipping on his naked, oiled body. Some of the fingers had talons that drew blood, but they could not stop him. He gained the platform with a wild bull's rush.
The blue-robe with the horn turned about, startled. He had an especially brutish face. Stark took the horn from him. With it, he broke the face and sent the blue-robe flying out into the water on the far side of the platform. Then Stark swung the long horn like a ten-foot club to clear the upper steps.
He shouted, "Simon!"
Then he heard a faint voice calling his name, N'Chaka, Man-Without-a-Tribe, and he wondered who on this death-bitten godhaunted planet knew that name to call him. And suddenly he realized that the voice was in his mind...
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