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. . . GONE!"
Her voice broke into harsh, strangled laughter which rose
in deafening volume. The monstrous five-headed serpent,
thrashing at its leash, dove to within an arm's-length of
William's face. All five death-heads bared their fangs and
slithered closer. William could smell the decay, the venom,
the evil. The laughter of the maiden had become hysterical,
gibberish, smothering rage. Waves of chillbumps cascaded
over poor William's shivering body.
William inched backward toward sanctuary, choking,
gasping, sobbing for deliverance.
Encircling him was the mist and the dreadful black pit.
Moving with him, glowing in the darkness, were the
serpent's five heads. The maiden's screaming was so painful
he had to put his hands over his ears.
THE CHAIN LEASH SNAPPED.
A hard, tightening force fastened onto his shoulder.
A scream started deep down in his throat.
"William, wake up!" The voice was loud, guttural. Snorting
in terror, William Sweetwater opened his eyes and stared up
into the face of his friend, Sintk the Dwarf. William made
an oinking sound, wrenching himself out of slumber into a
moment of confusion before becoming oriented to reality.
William was sitting on a stool behind the polished bar of
the Pig and Whistle. Sintk the Dwarf leaned across the bar,
his hand firmly gripping and shaking William's shoulder.
The dwarf was a muscular man, big in the shoulders, with a
blunt, tanned, half-smiling face
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