By C. L. Moore
Jirel of Joiry, the 1st of the nice girl warriors, the gorgeous commander of the most powerful fort within the nation, may face any risk to guard her liked nation. She wielded her vibrant sword opposed to amazing armies, the sinister magic of evil sorcerers and fearsome castles guarded by way of the lifeless, even bold to descend into Hell itself...Northwest Smith, the scarred and weathered outlaw, the mythical hero of the spaceways, pressured to confront the poor mysteries, the terrifying, mythic monsters of the universe...Jirel of Joiry and Northwest Smith are C.L. Moore's maximum creations and he or she used them not just to spin spellbinding stories but in addition to discover the mysteries of the human psyche.
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Extra resources for Black Gods and Scarlet Dreams (Fantasy Masterworks)
The green glow was fading from that dagger-sharp gaze as the Alendar's eyes stabbed into Smith's. The Earthman gave his head a little shake to clear away the vestiges of that devouring desire, and took a fresh grip on the butt of his gun. The familiar smoothness of it brought him a measure of reassurance, and with it a reawakening to the peril all around. He knew now that there could be no conceivable mercy for him, to whom the innermost secrets of the Minga had been unaccountably revealed.
A flight of stairs wrought from dully gleaming bronze curved at the end of it. Then came another hall lighted with rosy lanterns that swung from the arched ceiling, and beyond another stairway, this time of silvery metal fretwork, spiraling down again. And in all that distance they met no living creature. Voices hummed behind closed doors, and once or twice strains of music drifted faintly to Smith's ears, but either the corridors had been cleared by a special order, or incredible luck was attending them.
Smith's eyes narrowed. A sweeter drink. Danger, danger — the smell of it in the air — instinctively he felt the peril of opening his mind to the plunging gaze of the Alendar, the force of those compelling eyes beating like strong lights into his brain. . “Come,” said the Alendar softly, and moved off soundlessly through the gloom. They followed, Smith painfully alert, the girl walking with lowered, brooding eyes, her mind and soul afar in some wallowing darkness whose shadow showed so hideously beneath her lashes.