Lord of Snow and Ice. Heather Massey
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Название: Lord of Snow and Ice

Автор: Heather Massey

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Зарубежная фантастика

Серия:

isbn: 9781616504953

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ were not easy to come by, and their synthesis had been highly complex. However, if this worked, those long, hard hours would be more than acceptable. This alternative held far more appeal than a fire, which could lead to discovery. He eagerly awaited the results.

      Stellan crept forward; the beast could not outrun him now. Yet caution would still be prudent, for the mutated animal could turn against him at any moment. He had one chance and one chance only to make this work. Slowly, he removed a glass vial from his side pouch. He poured its contents into a small dart. At the sound, the mountain lion’s head turned to him, a silent wail behind its eyes. Affixing the dart to a small mechanical launcher, Stellan slowly took aim.

      “I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

      Stellan whipped around. Four sinister horsemen stood before him. The mountain lion uttered a weak snarl and then slumped to the ground. Stellan hid the launcher in the folds of his cape. It was too late. His window had closed. Through gritted teeth, he spoke. “What do you want, Alucard?”

      The lead rider was an older man with platinum-gray hair. Neatly combed, it fell to his shoulders. Haughty features like those of an eagle looked down upon Stellan with amusement.

      “How devastating.” He raised a hand to his chest in mock grief. “I would have thought your words would be kinder for your estranged uncle. I’ve missed you, boy.” Alucard’s harsh tone belied his words. He signaled, and the other men grouped their horses around Stellan, blocking him from the beleaguered animal.

      Alucard inched his own steed closer. Stellan felt like slicing daggers through his uncle’s patronizing expression. He envisioned the blood soaring out into a hundred rainbow-like arcs. No, make that two hundred. He deliberately locked his face into a stone-hard expression, a frequent habit because he often felt so angry. The unexpected visit from his kinsfolk only stoked his ire more. You will get nothing from me, he thought.

      Alucard assumed a bored look. “What we want is what doesn’t belong to you.” He gestured lazily to his men.

      Stellan watched as the other riders unfolded a sturdy wooden cage. They proceeded to load the mountain lion into it, being quite careful to avoid its abnormal parts.

      Stellan tried to hide his confusion. Why were they collecting it? “That doesn’t belong to anybody,” he said, jutting his chin up in defiance. “It’s merely a sick wild animal.”

      “Wrong!” Alucard lunged forward and hit Stellan across the cheek. His next statement sounded more like a hiss. “It belongs to the Black Mage. And he’s livid about your continued interference.”

      The blow stung, but Stellan had endured worse. Breathe. Breathe, and don’t say a word. Though prudence might save his life, he couldn’t resist a retaliatory barb. “Aren’t you rather close to Leopold’s kingdom? I hear Aldebaran swordsmen enjoy smiting barbaric warlocks like you.”

      Alucard glowered, but he refused to take the bait. “Our business takes us wherever His Highness desires.” His gaze took on a distant look. “Aldebaran and its guileless yet hateful citizens will soon acquaint themselves with the true meaning of fear.” His eyes closed as if in rapture. “The storm is gathering.”

      The new development made Stellan suspicious. “Enough riddles. What do you mean?”

      An ominous smile fell over Alucard’s face, one masking answers Stellan desperately wanted to uncover. Why have you been following me? Why now, after so many years of silence?

      “We’re finished here,” said one of the men.

      Alucard nodded slowly and regarded his nephew with a stern expression. “If we find you interfering like this again, it will mean your life. I don’t care who your father is. Oh, and here.” He reached into a pocket and withdrew a small gray sack. It landed at Stellan’s feet and something metallic clinked inside. “Something for your trouble.” Alucard snickered. “I know times have been rough.”

      Stellan remained still, sullen and resolute, avoiding their gazes.

      In the background, he heard one of the men whisper, “Look at the fool! He’s waiting for us to leave so he can pick up the money.” Raucous laughter followed.

      The men hooked the cage to one of the horses and signaled the animals to ride. A few jeers floated back in the air, followed by even more riotous laughter. Eventually, it faded. All around him, the wood creatures resumed their light chatter. They too seemed to take great delight in the impoverished man before them. Stellan rammed a fist against the nearest tree. Damn you all, then!

      His scalp tingled. Looking around, he spotted a hooded figure astride a horse many yards distant, peeking at him from among the trees. The rider wore a lavender cape–a woman’s raiment. His wary gaze followed her for a few moments, but he quickly tired of the game.

      “Be gone, sister,” he muttered. He watched until she, too, retreated.

      Then, and only then, did he pick up the bag of coins. It wasn’t much, but despite Alucard’s arrogant ways, his uncle was right–he did need the money. His food stores were hideously low. Even his scullery maid had complained there was only a finite number of ways one could cook potatoes, and no doubt she had tried them all numerous times over the past few months.

      But what else could he do? There were more important issues at stake here than receiving a full-course meal every night.

      Stellan pondered the recent encounter as he walked to his horse. Alucard had just threatened his life. How serious was he? Stellan’s ties with his blood relatives had been estranged, to put it mildly, since that dread event so long ago.

      But his uncle had never openly threatened him with death before. And what did his parting words mean? Aldebaran and fear, along with something about a gathering storm? Surely his “kin”–how the word left a sour taste in his mouth–would not be foolish enough to wage war on Aldebaran. They would be slaughtered, having neither the numbers nor strategy to face down King Leopold’s military might. Alucard knew this fact, otherwise he would have led an attack long ago.

      Stellan shook his head. The sorcerers of the Western Wastes had a long history of infighting. They would never successfully unite. He had learned one thing from the confrontation with his uncle, though, gaining confirmation of a suspicion he’d harbored for years now.

      Their Pestilence was spreading.

      “Pestilence” was his name for the virulent plague that had sickened the mountain lion, along with numerous other beasts of the forest. This included, he now knew, the bear that had attacked Lionel. It also explained the monstrosity at the Elysian River. To his knowledge, only animals had been infected so far, but how long would it remain that way? How susceptible were people? Alucard’s newfound confidence about the whole thing didn’t sit well with him at all.

      Stellan came to an uneasy realization–he may have to forego isolation and make formal contact with King Leopold to warn him of the danger. How much assistance should he offer? After all, the affected creatures tended to hide in dark and isolated places such as Dungeon Forest. But recently the tide had shifted. Aldebaran royalty had been exposed. What, he wondered, had Lionel and the others reported to the King? Stellan frowned. Everything, most likely, down to his wolf’s furry tail.

      If Stellan himself reported these new developments, would the King believe him? Would he even allow Stellan to enter his halls? But most importantly, should Stellan even care about Aldebaran considering the kingdom’s СКАЧАТЬ