Read Online Rise of the Death Dealer by James Silke, Frank Frazetta - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Silke, Frank Frazetta
Tags: Science-Fiction, Fantasy
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marched into the forest, Sharn at his side.
Brown John started to follow, but gave up. He mumbled unpleasantly, then shouted recklessly, “Barbarian, if you think your pride and arrogance will protect you from the Kitzakks, you are sadly mistaken.” Defying the humiliation which had turned his bumptuous cheeks apple red, Brown John advanced to the edge of the clearing, propped a fist on his hip, raised the other over his head and shook it with the bravado of a commander standing at the head of forty regiments of foot and ten of horse. “Do you hear me? Your pride is not enough. You, the tribes, none of you can survive alone.”
The sounds of undergrowth being crushed by booted feet were the only response he got.
Brown John had an answer for it. He shook a scolding finger and shouted louder, “And do not think I will quit! Not for a moment. Just because I have been beaten, peed upon and rudely rejected, do not think I am unable to see past these trifling humiliations to the greater truth. I may not have your animal power, Gath of Baal, but I have a different gift. I see things coming. Yes! And I can assure you I have not failed to measure the import of the fact that today, for the first time, the Kaven, the Cytherian and the Barhacha rode together. Don’t for a minute think that I am blind to that miracle, or that I fail to recognize it for what it truly is, a portentious omen of an even greater unity to come! Perhaps even a triumphant one!”
Brown John stared at the forest shadows. Only silence answered him now. He muttered to himself, then the bravado went out of him. It shortened him by half a foot. He glanced about at the scene of slaughter, moved to the spilled silver, got down on his knees and began to pick up the coins.
A short time later, when he rejoined his waiting sons, he was leading his horse and deep in thought. When the bastards started to inquire as to what had happened, he silenced them with a lifted hand and thought some more.
After a long while he looked up, said, “You will find some bodies, six to be exact, in a clearing about fifty yards up ahead.” He pointed it out. “Bury them, so that no man or animal will find them. Ever. Bury their armor with them, and make sure you find all their parts. There are, I think, twelve or fourteen, perhaps more. I do not remember clearly.”
Bone and Dirken gave each other a sober glance, then mounted and rode off leaving their father alone.
Brown John stood silently, thinking again. As he did, he smoothed his hair with a hand and tucked it back over an ear with a thumbnail, but this failed to groom his troubled mind. The furrow of wrinkles creasing his forehead dug so deep they grew dark. His brow drooped so low that his bushy white eyebrows tickled his cheeks. Feeling their touch his scowl grew even deeper. Then the words came to him.
It was a line of dialogue from
A Fig for the Ice Queen,
a line he had delivered on countless occasions on countless stages. But now, as he said them aloud to no one, there was no trace of fiction in the words, no trace of the actor in his tone or in his suddenly boyish smile.
He said, “I’ve got it. I’ll get the girl.”
Twelve
ROBIN LAKEHAIR
T he Dragon Lizard sprawled lazily on a flat grey boulder in a manner that made hard rock look warm and comfortable. The boulder rested atop a stack of boulders which formed the bend in the river.
He looked contentedly at blue-green water flowing around a rocky bend some fifteen feet below. It rippled over half-submerged rocks, formed ponds at the edges of a pebbled beach until it widened into a large pool. Cascading on, the stream churned itself to white water on a scatter of small boulders and flowed on.
The lizard obviously liked the view.
His sun-drenched body lay just out of dappled shadows cast by a scrub oak. He was the length of a child’s forearm, the color of the stone except for shiny gills reflecting greens of the forest trees and the gold of the morning
Brown John started to follow, but gave up. He mumbled unpleasantly, then shouted recklessly, “Barbarian, if you think your pride and arrogance will protect you from the Kitzakks, you are sadly mistaken.” Defying the humiliation which had turned his bumptuous cheeks apple red, Brown John advanced to the edge of the clearing, propped a fist on his hip, raised the other over his head and shook it with the bravado of a commander standing at the head of forty regiments of foot and ten of horse. “Do you hear me? Your pride is not enough. You, the tribes, none of you can survive alone.”
The sounds of undergrowth being crushed by booted feet were the only response he got.
Brown John had an answer for it. He shook a scolding finger and shouted louder, “And do not think I will quit! Not for a moment. Just because I have been beaten, peed upon and rudely rejected, do not think I am unable to see past these trifling humiliations to the greater truth. I may not have your animal power, Gath of Baal, but I have a different gift. I see things coming. Yes! And I can assure you I have not failed to measure the import of the fact that today, for the first time, the Kaven, the Cytherian and the Barhacha rode together. Don’t for a minute think that I am blind to that miracle, or that I fail to recognize it for what it truly is, a portentious omen of an even greater unity to come! Perhaps even a triumphant one!”
Brown John stared at the forest shadows. Only silence answered him now. He muttered to himself, then the bravado went out of him. It shortened him by half a foot. He glanced about at the scene of slaughter, moved to the spilled silver, got down on his knees and began to pick up the coins.
A short time later, when he rejoined his waiting sons, he was leading his horse and deep in thought. When the bastards started to inquire as to what had happened, he silenced them with a lifted hand and thought some more.
After a long while he looked up, said, “You will find some bodies, six to be exact, in a clearing about fifty yards up ahead.” He pointed it out. “Bury them, so that no man or animal will find them. Ever. Bury their armor with them, and make sure you find all their parts. There are, I think, twelve or fourteen, perhaps more. I do not remember clearly.”
Bone and Dirken gave each other a sober glance, then mounted and rode off leaving their father alone.
Brown John stood silently, thinking again. As he did, he smoothed his hair with a hand and tucked it back over an ear with a thumbnail, but this failed to groom his troubled mind. The furrow of wrinkles creasing his forehead dug so deep they grew dark. His brow drooped so low that his bushy white eyebrows tickled his cheeks. Feeling their touch his scowl grew even deeper. Then the words came to him.
It was a line of dialogue from
A Fig for the Ice Queen,
a line he had delivered on countless occasions on countless stages. But now, as he said them aloud to no one, there was no trace of fiction in the words, no trace of the actor in his tone or in his suddenly boyish smile.
He said, “I’ve got it. I’ll get the girl.”
Twelve
ROBIN LAKEHAIR
T he Dragon Lizard sprawled lazily on a flat grey boulder in a manner that made hard rock look warm and comfortable. The boulder rested atop a stack of boulders which formed the bend in the river.
He looked contentedly at blue-green water flowing around a rocky bend some fifteen feet below. It rippled over half-submerged rocks, formed ponds at the edges of a pebbled beach until it widened into a large pool. Cascading on, the stream churned itself to white water on a scatter of small boulders and flowed on.
The lizard obviously liked the view.
His sun-drenched body lay just out of dappled shadows cast by a scrub oak. He was the length of a child’s forearm, the color of the stone except for shiny gills reflecting greens of the forest trees and the gold of the morning
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