Read Online King of the Bastards by Brian Keene, Steven L. Shrewsbury - Free Book Online

fingers and ears?”
    “Trophies, or totems as they call them, mementos of their
conquered foes.”
    Akibeel was silent. He seemed to be waiting on Rogan’s answer.
    Rogan kicked the sand with his boot heel. “So, I must be a
mercenary again, aye; a general for these Kennebeck? Perhaps I should’ve stayed
in my bed in Albion after all and perished from oral oblations of the maids.
That would have been a fine way to die; drained dry.”
    “Akibeel warns that if we do not help, there will be no world to
go back to. Croatoan will move on to destroy more and more of the planet, until
it is all gone.”
    “There isn’t one man amongst his kin who will rise to the
challenge?”
    “He has some help, but not enough to attack Amazarak’s black
lodge.”
    “Is that his help that I smell in the woods?”
    Javan translated for the shaman. Akibeel’s smile faded and
confusion clouded his face.
    “I can smell the musk of a woman a mile off, Kennebeck man!”
Rogan laughed. “Especially one in heat. Give me the wind and a stiff will and
they are mine. A woman has never been able to hide from me, so why hide some in
the forest?”
    Akibeel understood Rogan’s inference, if not his words. He
muttered beneath his breath.  
    Javan said, “The women in the forest are not of his tribe, but
aide his kin in their quest.”
    “Ask him why we should help him kill this shaman if he has a
couple of women on his side? What do they need an old man and a boy for if he
has a few tough women to hold his sack for him? Can he spirit me back to Albion
if I do?”
    “He promises to place enough men to man the boat at our disposal.
They will help us repair it, thus to return home, if we aide his tribe. A few
will also agree to serve as crew. And they will provide enough provisions to
see us on our journey back across the sea.”
    “Or at least to our friends down south again. So they will fight
behind me, but not for themselves? In my old age, I am to serve as a mercenary
general to an army, plying my skills the way the whores in Sodom do? By Wodan,
what a damned joke! But if we wish to return home in time… Fine. I will accept
the terms. But tell him if he leaves out any information or double crosses me,
the next guts he reads will be his own.”
    Akibeel smiled, his black eyes signaling understanding.
    §
    Akibeel and his people slowly settled in around the
campfire. Rogan eyed them uneasily, still not completely trusting their
intentions. Javan, ever the diplomat, offered the Kennebecks fat slabs of
cooked bear meat, which they gratefully accepted. They smacked their lips,
rumbling with pleasure. One of the red-skinned natives produced a leather skin
filled with liquor, and passed it around the circle. Rogan took a swig and
handed it to Javan. The youth drank greedily, and then it made another round.
    After a few draughts, the aged barbarian warmed up to his new
employers.
    “Tell Akibeel that his people make good wine.”
    Javan translated for Rogan. “He thanks you, sire, and promises
there is more where that came from.”
    “Bring out these women,” Rogan laughed. “I would see them. Why do
they hide? Let them come forth and drink. Are they deformed like the men?”
    The moon vanished behind dark clouds, and the campfire seemed to
dim, as if swallowed by the darkness. Akibeel cried out in panic. He thrust a
bony finger toward the distant mountain range.
    Rogan yanked his sword from its sheath, half falling back to his
ass. “What now, dammit?”
    Javan said, “He fears that Amazarak is casting a spell from his
lodge on high. They regret not bringing along their two champions to meet us.”
    “Champions?” Rogan grunted. “If they have these men, what need
have they of us?”
    “These two champions, Takala and Eyota, want no part of the
fight. They wish to leave the area.”
    Akibeel grew more animated.
    “He says the spell gets stronger. Be wary, sire.”
    Rogan eyed the shaman skeptically and then gazed at the