To Dream with the Dragons (Hyborean Dragons)
Page 9
He rose up to his full height and proudly lifted his head to face Anduin. Staring into the dragon’s eyes for the first time, he extended his arms overhead and gave his death cry, a wild sound that only the horse peoples of the steppe could produce.
Therian advanced and aimed a killing stroke at his exposed neck. Gruum did nothing to stop it.
A dark whisper of smoke dashed in and grabbed Succor. Although the sword did cut deeply into the wispy hand that sought to grasp it, the blade didn’t slice all the way through the shimmering flesh. A whistling scream echoed from the creature’s mouth, a formless void made of the stuff of midnight.
Gruum staggered back, shocked to find himself face-to-face once again with the shadow creature. He gazed for a fraction into its slitted, smoky eyes, and knew then that it was the same creature that had tried to slay him some days earlier. These same non-existent hands that had sought his throat then, now prevented his death.
“I spare thee, jackal,” said Anduin, “You will serve my champion well.”
End of To Dream with the Dragons
BONUS Excerpt:
The Dragon-Child
(Hyborean Dragons #2)
by
B. V. Larson
-1-
Upon returning from Anduin’s domain, Gruum found weeks had past, although it seemed to him he had spent but a single night in the Black Dragon’s strange domain. Therian laid plans to take to the sea at the first opportunity to fulfill the Anduin’s demands. The ice, however, had other designs. It was more than a month before the blue-white floes broke enough to allow ships to leave the harbor.
Therian prepared carefully. He took pains to disguise their departure, telling his staff he would be away on a diplomatic journey of a discreet nature. By this time, the various stewards and councilors who had survived the first year of his reign gave him no argument. They murmured their approval and shuffled away, backing and bowing until they were out of his sight. Their velvet slippers made only the softest, whispering sounds on the flagstones. No doubt, Gruum thought, they would all be glad to see their grim King leave for as long as possible.
They opted to depart quietly when the shipping lanes finally reopened for the season, making no fanfare about it. Identifying himself only as a Hyborean noble who sought warmer climes, a common enough theme among passengers leaving Corium, Therian took passage upon a nondescript smuggler’s vessel. They had reasoned that a Hyborean dreadnought, cruising toward southern ports, would surely warn the Queen of their arrival and give her time to flee. Barely forty paces in length, the Innsmouth was a ratty, two-masted brig with a mob of lean-muscled, gap-toothed men for a crew. The ship left the harbor ice behind and sailed away southward, unnoticed by the cheerless people of Corium.
After visiting several of the nearest southern ports, they had found nothing. When they put silver into dirty palms and asked to be led to fine ladies, they found themselves presented with cackling crones and whores with missing clumps of hair.
Gruum noted that Therian had spoken no more words to him about the Queen’s escape. He felt relieved, hoping that the issue had been resolved between them, at least for now. He wondered how things might go if they did indeed meet the fair Lady Sloan again.
To curious crewmen, they traveled as a Hyborean lord whose lands had been lost to the glaciers, accompanied by his last faithful man-at-arms. It was a believable enough guise, and none questioned it. After learning more of Therian, the inquiries stopped. Word got around that asking questions of the moody noble was a dangerous pastime.
With each passing week, Therian became more sullen and resolute. He spoke little, and the crew responded by falling quiet in his presence. As they traveled from port to port, Therian became known as a man who was quick to anger. It was said he often dueled with common folk in dimly-lit side streets. These fights would always end in bloodshed and, some whispered, a vile curse. Gruum suspected that Therian picked upon the surliest of the dock scum in the ports they visited that he might draw their strength from them and thus keep up his own. Over time, everyone came to avoid him.
At the least, Gruum reflected, this far south the sun did give a hint of warmth, although it was only a fraction of what it had provided a decade ago. As was his habit of late, Gruum took to the stern deck and sat beside the First Mate, Karn.
“Hail, Gruum,” said Karn, an easy-going man whom Gruum had come to like. He wore a cap of black felt and pantaloons of ragged silk. He offered Gruum a jack of hot mead, which Gruum took and sipped contentedly.
“Well met,” replied Gruum. “This mead will do the trick to take the chill out of a cold evening.”
The helmsman stood nearby. He was a saturnine man who took his job most seriously, and did not even acknowledge the other two. He worked the creaking wheel, his eyes distant as he watched the stars and the currents with dark, vigilant eyes.
“Good to see you, Gruum. How is your master this evening?” asked Karn.
“Sullen, and in a foul mood.”
Karn nodded, sipping his mead. “Still no hint as to his lady fair?”
Gruum shot the man a glance. Did everyone aboard know of his master’s search for a lost woman? He hesitated, but then decided that secrets weren’t meant to be kept upon a ship at sea. “No, no sign.”
“Ah, lost love has a way of warping a man’s soul.”
Gruum nodded, taking a heavy gulp of mead. It ran hotly down his throat and exploded with warmth in his belly. “Yes, it does indeed.”
None of them spoke for a time. The sea furled at the prow and splashed up the sides of the ship. The sails overhead ruffled and snapped in the chill winds.
“And how is your master this evening?” Gruum asked finally.
Karn gave him a glance, and smiled. “Sullen, and in as foul a mood as yours. I imagine he is abusing the cabin boy again.”
Gruum grunted. Karn’s master, the Captain of the Innsmouth, was indeed a brute.
The deck creaked behind them. It was their only warning.
Gruum ducked as something swished over his head. Karn was not so lucky. A heavy pinion of stout hardwood caught him in the ear and dashed him to the deck.
Gruum rolled and came up with his saber in his hand.
There, drunken and swaying, stood the hulking shape of the Innsmouth’s captain. A very large man, he loomed over them. His huge arms seemed to hang down to his knees. “So, drinking on watch again, Karn?”
Gruum lowered his saber and stepped back uncertainly. This was a matter between the ship’s master and his mate.
The Captain eyed Gruum. “Aye, you’d best be putting that toy away, little man.”
Gruum glowered, but did not raise his saber. He stood beside the helmsman, who quietly watched the scene with inscrutable eyes.
Karn took this moment of distraction to spring up and attack his master. A sliver of steel flashed in his hand. The Captain whirled back to face him, faster than his bulk and his drunken state should have allowed. Karn slashed open the Captain’s arm, but the pinion rose and came down again, dashing Karn to the deck a second time.
Karn sprang back up and circled the bigger man, a dagger plainly in his hand. He favored his left side, which no doubt now carried a set of broken ribs.
“You’ll take your thrashing and like it,” breathed the Captain. “Put away that tiny blade or it will go the worse for you.”
“I’ve taken my last beating on his ship,” Karn snarled. “You are my master no longer.”
Gruum looked around and realized that many of the crewmen had slipped up from below decks and were watching the fight. He was surprised that none moved to stop it. But then, perhaps they would cheer if Karn slit the huge bastard’s throat.
The Captain lashed out with the pinion again, but this time Karn darted to one side and thrust his dagger into a meaty shoulder. The Captain howled and slammed his fist into the smaller man, sending him reeling back. Again, Karn circled.
Therian appeared at Gruum’s side. “An opportunity,”
he said quietly.
Gruum turned to him. Therian looked weak and drawn. Seeker was out, but its twin Succor was still sheathed.
“Milord?” asked Gruum.
“I’m tired of fish and seabirds. Their tiny lives do nothing to warm my bones on this freezing ocean.”
So saying, Therian approached the two sparring men.
They paid him no attention, until he stepped close and without ceremony thrust Seeker’s tip into Karn’s side. The man howled and twisted upon the sword.
Everyone staggered back, stunned. Therian eyed them, his teeth tightly clenched. “He took up a weapon against his rightful Captain,” he cried aloud, addressing the surprised crew. “On any ship, the Captain is as a lord over the crewmen. Karn’s life was thus forfeit by the law of the sea.”
Then Therian began to speak the words of the Dragons, and all there cried and clutched at their ears, save the Captain and Gruum, who merely winced. Upon the starlit deck, eldritch lights of yellow and green chased one another along the length of Seeker’s blade, which was still planted firmly in Karn’s ribs.
“I beseech thee, milord,” shouted Gruum. “Damn him not!”
“Aye! Aye!” cried the crewmen.
“Have mercy, sorcerer!”
The helmsman spoke for the first time. “He does not deserve an eternity with the Dragons for defending himself.”
Therian gritted his teeth while the lights did play upon his blade. The spell was unfinished. He turned his wolfish gaze upon the Captain. “How say you, master of this vessel? Is he at fault or were you?” he hissed out.
The Captain blinked and his mouth sagged as he faced of the horrors of sorcery. “He does not deserve to sleep with the Dragons. I gave him cause for his mutiny.”
“Very well,” Therian snarled. He ripped the sword from Karn’s ribs and allowed the corpse to sag down upon the deck. The lights upon the blade dimmed. In moments the twisting sparks turned to silvery gossamer and floated away toward the stars. The spell had been broken.
The terrified crewmen crawled upon the rigging and tried to cower into the very deck of the ship in their fear, but upon a small vessel at night in a frozen ocean, there was nowhere to hide. With terror and fascination, they watched the sorcerer. Even as they stared, they desperately strove to avoid his attention.
END Excerpt
To purchase the entirety of the second book in the series, search for The Dragon-Child on your Ebook Seller's website, or go to BVLarson.com
More Books by B. V. Larson:
HYBOREAN DRAGONS SERIES
To Dream with the Dragons
The Dragon-Child
Of Shadows and Dragons
The Swords of Corium
The Sorcerer’s Bane
The Dragon Wicked
HAVEN SERIES
Amber Magic
Sky Magic
Shadow Magic
Dragon Magic
Blood Magic
OTHER BOOKS
Swarm
Extinction
Mech
Mech 2
Shifting
Velocity
Visit www.BVLarson.com for more information.