What had been his limbs were gone now; the chill was spreading inward. It no longer lay passively waiting for him to drift into it but reached out for his body and mind. He felt the cold gulp up half his body in an instant. It was a living and hungry thing now, seeking to devour him.
The rest of his body went in the next instant. Now only his mind remained, neither sending nor receiving messages. There was nothing sending or receiving out there in the blackness around him-only the cold, the hungry cold. It crept up on him still further; he felt a tangible pulse of icy wind. Then cold and complete blackness swallowed him, swallowed all sensation.
Chapter Three
The pain in his head told Blade that consciousness was coming back to him. Then an equally sharp pain in his naked bottom made him yelp and leap to his feet in spite of his throbbing head. Looking down, he saw that he had landed on his rear in the middle of a large patch of thistlelike plants with springy, woody stems, thin purple leaves, and spectacularly long and pointed stickers. Under his feet was moss-grown stone; he lay down on it until the headache had vanished and his exploring fingers had removed all the prickers. Then he rose to his feet again and cautiously looked around him.
He realized that the moss-grown stone he had been lying on showed a pattern of cracks too regular to be natural, with great clumps of purple thistles growing out of them. Blade saw the stone stretching off in an unnaturally straight line on either side. It was flanked by trees set at roughly thirty-foot intervals and rising so high that Blade had to crane his neck up toward the graying sky to see their bushy tops. Their trunks were massive and at first glance appeared to be covered with green scales. Closer examination revealed a choking tangle of vines and weeds clinging to the bark. A chill breeze blew past, making Bade shiver and the glossy green leaves of the vines and the dull purple ones of the thistles dance.