Ziska

Ziska Synopsis

Excerpt from Ziska: The Problem of a Wicked Soul
Dark against the sky towered the Great Pyramid, and over its apex hung the moon. Like a wreck cast ashore by some titanic storm, the Sphinx, reposing amid the un dulating waves of grayish sand surrounding it, seemed for once to drowse. Its solemn visage that had impassively watched ages come and go, empires rise and fall, and generations of men live and die, appeared for the moment to have lost its usual ex pression of speculative wisdom and intense disdain - its cold eyes seemed to droop, its stern mouth almost smiled.

The air was calm and sultry and not a human foot dis turbed the silence. But towards midnight a Voice suddenly arose as it were like a wind in the desert, crying aloud: Araxes!
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