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CONAN 01 Conan Robert E. Howard
Bourne Trilogy 2 The Bourne S Ludlum Robert
CONAN 30 Conan niszczyciel Robert E. Howard
CONAN 27 Conan z Czerwonego B Robert E. Howard
CONAN 52 Conan nieposkromiony Robert E. Howard
CONAN 23 Conan obronca Robert E. Howard
CONAN 20 Conan z Aquilonii Robert E. Howard
CONAN 33 Conan wielki Robert E. Howard
CONAN 67 Conan i noce Szadiza Robert E. Howard
Cooper, Diane In gluecklichen Umstaenden

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.Yes, she was dead, for not a muscle moved on that pile of wood.She was dead, or soon would be.Already, the flames ringed her round in a wall five feet high.With a righteous roar, Miltiades flung back the double doors and emerged at a run into the courtyard.He swung his hammer in an arc that would pulverize two of the robed heads and splatter them against a third.The wicked celebrants fell back before his onslaught.The silver hammerhead only grazed a shoulder, but that slight contact alone was enough to send the worshiper sprawling.Not pausing to finish off this foe, Miltiades leapt through the searing wall of fire that surrounded Eidola.He landed beside her in the blazing inferno, snatched her from the smoldering pallet, and wrapped his vast arms around her.Then, his own tabard and cape blazing, Miltiades vaulted through the fire and landed in a crouch beyond.Ignoring the flash of his hair, singing away across his scalp, Miltiades gently laid Eidola down on a verge of grass.He then stood, flung off his burning livery, and hoisted his hammer.Kern, Trandon, and Jacob had emerged behind him.With hammer, staff, and sword, they had corralled the cultists in a frightened mob at one corner of the courtyard.Miltiades strode toward them and swung his smoking maul ominously overhead."Who is your master!" he roared."I will slay only him.But if you conceal from me his whereabouts, I will slay each of you in turn!"A small-framed Mar, eyes raging in his middle-aged face, said, "Who are you? What right have you to do this?""Are you the leader of these… these infidels?" Miltiades asked, leveling his hammer at the man."I am head of this household, and I demand by what right you-""By what right?" Miltiades shouted as he drew himself to his full height before the man."By what right? By the right of justice.By the right of honor and decency.By the authority of Piergeiron Paladinson of Waterdeep and Emperor Aetheric III of Doegan-""These rulers give you the right to barge into our funeral service, break my nephew's shoulder with that hammer of yours, rip my mother from her pyre, and threaten to kill us all?" the man replied, incredulous.Miltiades's lips drew up in a sneer, "It is too late for your lies.You have slain Lady Eidola of Neverwinter, and for that you will pay in blood.""What? Slain whom?"A staying hand fell upon Miltiades's shoulder, and he whirled in anger, almost striking Kern with his hammer.The golden paladin did not shy back, only saying softly, "Look.He's right.Look at the body.That woman is Mar.She's old.She's not Eidola."Face red from sun and exertion and burns, Miltiades stared at the body he had rescued from the pyre.Kern was right.She was Mar, a withered crone."B-But how do we know this is a funeral," Miltiades hissed to Kern, "and not a cannibalistic ritual?"Kern's voice was barely a whisper."There would have been nothing left of her to eat.Let's go, Miltiades.We need rest.We can search more tomorrow.We need rest.""Yes," the silver knight said heavily.He took a staggering step away from the Mar, gaping behind him."Yes.I'm weary to the bone.""Wait.What of my family? What of my wounded nephew, and my dishonored mother?" the Mar man called after the retreating knights."What justice is there for us? What justice for the Mar?"Chapter 4ConfabulationNo longer in tatters, Artemis Entreri, Shar, her new plaything, Noph, and the band of pirates settled in beside the garden pool of a local tavern.Prior to their arrival, they had "requisitioned" a loaded clothesline behind a noble estate.Now the whole crew was dressed in the fine, flowing clothes favored by the natives of Eldrinpar.After changing, they sought a safe tavern where they could rest and eat.The first two places, hung with huge signs and overflowing with patrons, were vetoed by Ingrar.He said they smelled metallic, like death.They all had had enough death for one day.The tavern where they ended up looked, on the outside, like nothing at all.Its walls were flaking adobe, its windows draped with tattered curtains.It seemed more a collection of slumping hovels than a safe house.Still, Ingrar swore by the aroma of the place-comfortable coolness beneath ragged eaves.He was right.Venturing through a vacant outer room, the company came to a fine establishment, patronized exclusively by elite Mar [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]