Read Online The Tomb of Horrors by Undead), Keith Francis Strohm - (ebook by Flandrel - Free Book Online

the
ground, holding the jagged edge of his shattered bone as it protruded brutally
from his leg.
    “Kaerion, look out!” Majandra shouted from her vantage point
by the bar.
    Warned of an impending attack, Kaerion brought up both arms.
The movement saved him from the full crushing force of the chair, which broke as
it struck him from the side. Dazed, Kaerion could do nothing as two men leapt
upon him and brought him crashing to the ground. Instinctively, he curled into a
ball, warding off as many blows as possible, but even he could not delay the
inevitable. He caught sight of the bottle descending upon his head before
darkness claimed him.
     
    * * *
     
    Terys Van stood with arms folded, surveying the damage in the
tavern’s common room. Wooden tables and chairs lay overturned or smashed
Splinters of wood and broken shards of glass and crockery crunched under the
booted tread of his guardsmen. Here and there, he spotted small clumps of
bloodied rushes, and the occasional tooth. The stench of stale beer and cheap
smoke mingled with the sour musk of sweat, producing the familiar smell of
desperation.
    Fourteen years as a sentinel in the city watch, however, had
pretty much inured him to the darker and more violent aspects of life in Rel
Mord. So it was with a somewhat bored nod of his head that Terys acknowledged
the young guardswoman who stood at attention to his left, waiting to offer her
report.
    “Typical bar fight, sir,” the smartly uniformed guard spoke
at his signal. “No deaths. Three wounded seriously. The clerics are seeing to
those. They’ll be ready to meet the king’s judgment. The rest are being escorted
to the prison now.”
    “Good work,” he responded. The entire investigation had been
quick and efficient. The sentinel was calculating the time it would take him to
stamp the paperwork through and head home for the night when he noticed the
guardswoman still standing stiffly to his side.
    “What is it, Kendra?” he snapped. He was in no mood for
complications.
    “Sir,” the young guard straightened at her commander’s tone,
“several witnesses identified the one who started the fight.”
    She pointed to a spot near the bar, where a bear of a man
leaned heavily against the wall, arms bound behind his back. Blood covered his
tunic, and even from his position, Terys could make out an angry bruise
beginning to blossom on one side of his face.
    “I see,” he said, dismissing the guardswoman with a sharp
wave of his hand. “I’ll handle it from here.”
    “But, sir,” Kendra called out, “I think—”
    Another wave of his hand silenced the protesting guard. “I
said that I would take it from here, Corporal.” He sent her to deal with the
proprietor of the tavern, who was complaining loudly about the loss to his
business.
    The prisoner looked up as he approached, and Terys’ steps
faltered for just a moment. The man’s face was handsome enough, even with the
rapidly deepening bruise, but his eyes—they were hard eyes, steel blue and
penetrating. The eyes of a killer.
    The guard stopped a few feet from the sulking prisoner,
leaving enough room to draw his sword should the need arise. The man was still
drunk, evidenced by his slightly swaying posture and his rapid, irregular
breath, but there was no reason to leave himself completely vulnerable should
the man’s anger overcome his common sense.
    Terys ran calloused fingers across his goatee, in a move
calculated to disguise his own tension. He regarded the prisoner briefly, hoping
that the interrogation would move along quickly so that he could finish up for
the night, but the man’s flat gaze revealed nothing.
    Puzzled, he drew breath to speak but was cut off by the sound
of a feminine voice. “There you are, Captain. I’m glad to see you’ve finally
arrived.”
    Terys flinched. The voice was rich and textured, almost
sultry, but even he could hear the biting tone of self-conscious authority mixed
with