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The Hexer from Salem - The Tyrant from the Deep

E-BookEPUB0 - No protectionE-Book
99 Seiten
Englisch
Bastei Lübbeerschienen am17.10.20161. Aufl. 2016
In the night, clouds had risen from the sea - a dark, seething front that extinguished the full moon's pale glow and pelted the earth with a torrent of frozen rain. A gusty, ice-cold wind blew the rain sideways across the water's surface, ensuring the residents of this strip of coastline forgot it was high summer. That the nights should be warm.
The lake was like a black hole, swallowing all available light. Somewhere, not far from the boat, something dark and massive was starting to circle the small boat...




Wolfgang Hohlbein is a phenomenon: With more than 200 books selling over 40 million copies worldwide, he is one of Germany's most prolific fantasy writers. Hohlbein is well-known for his young adult books and above all his novel series, The Hexer from Salem.mehr

Produkt

KlappentextIn the night, clouds had risen from the sea - a dark, seething front that extinguished the full moon's pale glow and pelted the earth with a torrent of frozen rain. A gusty, ice-cold wind blew the rain sideways across the water's surface, ensuring the residents of this strip of coastline forgot it was high summer. That the nights should be warm.
The lake was like a black hole, swallowing all available light. Somewhere, not far from the boat, something dark and massive was starting to circle the small boat...




Wolfgang Hohlbein is a phenomenon: With more than 200 books selling over 40 million copies worldwide, he is one of Germany's most prolific fantasy writers. Hohlbein is well-known for his young adult books and above all his novel series, The Hexer from Salem.
Details
Weitere ISBN/GTIN9783732513529
ProduktartE-Book
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Format Hinweis0 - No protection
FormatFormat mit automatischem Seitenumbruch (reflowable)
Erscheinungsjahr2016
Erscheinungsdatum17.10.2016
Auflage1. Aufl. 2016
ReiheAn Occult Fantasy Series
Reihen-Nr.2
Seiten99 Seiten
SpracheEnglisch
Artikel-Nr.2194712
Rubriken
Genre9200

Inhalt/Kritik

Leseprobe
The Tyrant from the Deep

The lake was like a black hole, swallowing all available light. In the night, clouds had risen from the water - a dark, seething front that extinguished the full moon´s pale glow and pelted the earth with a torrent of frozen rain. A gusty, ice-cold wind blew the rain sideways across the water´s surface, which ensured the residents of this strip of coastline forgot it was high summer, when the nights should be warm.

The relentless rainfall muffled the rhythmic clap of the oars as they dipped into the water. Steve Cranton let go of them with an exhausted sigh, sat upright and stretched his arms. His back ached. They had been circling the small, round lake for nearly an hour and the boat was now laden with rainwater. The frigid water came up to his ankles, the cold creeping in though two layers of wool socks where the water pooled inside his rubber boots. Everything up to his knees was numb.

Tired? O´Banyon asked quietly. I could take over for you ...

Cranton shook his head and grabbed hold of the oars again but kept his hands still and the oars motionless. The boat rocked lightly and, as if to answer O´Banyon´s question, the wind beat another spray of rain against them. Cranton shuddered as water dripped into his raincoat and ran down his neck with an icy chill.

No, he answered a little late. I´m slowly seeing the futility of rowing in a circle and getting completely soaked. Let´s stop.

O´Banyon laughed lightly. You´re afraid, he said.

Cranton shot back an angry glare. O´Banyon wasn´t more than a few feet from him but his face was just a dark, shapeless form before the even darker backdrop of the lake. The cloud cover was like an opaque ceiling.

No, Cranton snapped. I don´t like feeling stupid, that´s all. They´re probably all sitting in Goldspie laughing at us.

You are afraid, O´Banyon repeated, ignoring those last words. It´s too late now, my friend. He sighed and rummaged around in his raincoat for a moment before pulling out his tobacco pouch and pipe. Cranton looked on with a frown as he carefully packed the pipe despite the unceasing rain and lit a match, using his hand to block the wind. The tobacco caught but because of the rain was more smoke than fire. O´Banyon grunted something, shook the pipe out against the edge of the boat and put it away. Then he took out his pocket watch and lit a second match, trying to read his watch in the flickering light of the tiny flame.

It´s time, anyway, he said. Midnight in a few moments.

And then it comes, I suppose, Cranton tried sounding derisive but an undertone of fear denied him the desired effect. The monster of Loch Shin, what a joke! These are stories you use to scare your children when they don´t want to sleep. Or fool clueless city folk.

By which you mean me, O´Banyon said shaking his head. Cranton wanted to protest but O´Banyon stopped him with a quick gesture and continued to shake his head. I don´t blame you, my friend. I suppose I´d think the same if I were in your place but you haven´t heard what I´ve heard.

Idle chatter of crazy people, Cranton growled. What´s it worth?

He described it! O´Banyon answered with conviction. More precisely than I ever could. You can´t make that up, Steve. I ...

Somewhere, not far from the boat, something rippled along the water´s surface. O´Banyon cut himself off mid-sentence, bolted upright and stared out with narrowed eyes at the all consuming blackness which smothered the lake. What was that?

Your monster, Cranton murmured, though his voice trembled even more than before.

O´Banyon ignored him. It´s something, he mumbled. I can sense it clearly ... He looked out again for a few seconds then swung back around excitedly and waved his arms about. The lamp! he cried. Quickly, Steve. The camera too!

There was a soft tap along the bottom of the boat. Cranton lost his balance, slipped off the narrow bench and grabbed hold of the boat´s edge to break his fall. The small boat rocked as something soft, pliable but nevertheless intensely strong bumped against it. The water broke with hard claps and a wave smacked into the hull, spraying the two in a shower of icy lake water.

Cranton cursed and reached for the waterproof oil sack, grasping the equipment with his clammy fingers.

Hurry up, Steve, O´Banyon said impatiently. There´s something out there. I can see it!

The lake was suddenly overcome by a frenzy of noise. Wave after wave smacked against the boat at an ever faster rate and somewhere from the left close by, something dark and massive was moving over the water.

The lamp! O´Banyon demanded. How long does it take?

Cranton shifted with a grunt and handed O´Banyon the small, specially formed lamp, all the while his heart pounded and his gaze fixed on the surrounding darkness. He felt something. What it was exactly, he couldn´t say, but whatever it was, it was big.

Goddamn it, Jeff. Let´s get out of here, he said. I don´t have a good feeling about this.

O´Banyon had lifted the lamp´s glass lantern and was trying to light a match with his trembling fingers. The wind blew out the flame just as he put it into the lamp. His eyes darted across the sea and fixed on the black thing that had emerged from the darkness. Meanwhile, the boat was rocking wildly on top of the waves, slowly starting to turn. A new and eerie tone mixed in with the howl of the wind, a noise neither man had ever heard before, like a deep, intense breathing and a snort so powerful, both men trembled.

Let´s get out of here, Cranton said again. Jeff, please!

O´Banyon´s answer was another strike of a match, cradling the flame in his hand, finally getting the lamp to light.

Blinded, Cranton shut his eyes as the darkness was abruptly besieged by the lamp´s bright, white flash. O´Banyon blinked and with his left hand raised the lamp to eye level, while with his right he fumbled with the mirror contraption that would beam the light across the lake. A flickering, triangular cone of white brightness dashed over the surface. O´Banyon cursed, raising the lamp a bit higher and adjusting the mirror to emit a thinner, compact beam which extended fifty feet from the triangular light source. Something moved just where the light ended - something formless, black and gigantic. An unshakeable, unbelievably deep rumble rippled outwards, and for a moment, the light made out a bizarre shape in the darkness.

Stop, Jeff. I beg you! Cranton gasped.

There it is, O´Banyon blurted out. I was right, Steve. Truman didn´t lie. He moved about, clapped Cranton on the shoulder with his free hand and motioned with the lamp towards the lake. Look, Steve! Truman wasn´t crazy! He was right! The creature really does exist. It´s real and ...

Cranton pushed his hand aside. I don´t want to know! he yelled. I want to get out of here, nothing else! Goddamn it, Jeff. Don´t you get it?! This monster will kill us!

O´Banyon looked back at him in confusion. He didn´t seem to be aware of the danger.

A new, especially strong wave hit the boat - so powerful, both men lost their balance and fell over each other.

Cursing, they got themselves back up. The boat continued rocking wildly, but somehow the lamp stayed lit. Its bright, white beam flashed across the lake like a thin, pale finger, drilling into the sky and then sinking back down again.

My God, Jeff. No!

Cranton´s scream was lost in a massive, trumpeting roar. The shadow at the end of the light emerged with monstrous force, exploding with black and gleaming scales, and leaped towards the men with violent speed.

The boat pitched upwards. Another wave struck it, tore one oar away and sent the end of the other swinging like a club. Cranton screamed as the flat side of the oar hit the back of his head, again sending him flying forward. O´Banyon also let out a fearful cry, as he tipped backwards. The lamp fell, its light spun over the lake as it hit the edge of the boat. The flame went out with a hiss.

At the last fraction of a second, the light revealed a violent, nightmarish outline.

O´Banyon could no longer say what happened thereafter or in what order. Something hit the boat, smashing it like a toy. He screamed, heard Cranton nearby yelling, and, choking on water himself was thrown into the lake and pulled with great force under the water. He sucked in an instinctive breath of air and with all his might tried to swim away from where the boat was sinking. His heart pounded, and it felt like a steel wheel was laid on his chest, slowly pushing down. Blind with fear, he reached out. He broke through the surface of the water and took in as much air as he could.

The lake boiled around him. The moonlight suddenly pierced through a gap in the clouds, basking the lake in its brilliant, silver light as if an invisible...
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Autor

Wolfgang Hohlbein is a phenomenon: With more than 200 books selling over 40 million copies worldwide, he is one of Germany's most prolific fantasy writers. Hohlbein is well-known for his young adult books and above all his novel series, The Hexer from Salem.
The Hexer from Salem - The Tyrant from the Deep