King of the Bastards Read Free

Rogan finally responded, gripping the handle of the
broadsword attached to his heavy leather belt. “Rohain feels the wanderlust in
his blood, too, but he seems more apt to deal with generals and politicians
than I.”
    His attention returned to the sky.
    “Your daughter Erin is a striking damsel and will make someone a
fine bride,” Javan said. “Young Teran is a powerful, if impetuous youth.
Algeniz is a wonderful girl. All my cousins are blessed. There is much to be
happy with in your life, sire.”
    “Happiness isn’t all there is in life,” Rogan brooded, squinting.
The flock of birds was gone, leaving a single circling shadow, much larger than
the others. “It’s only a portion of it. Once one has done all and achieved so
much, what is there when the blood still calls? What is there to yet be done?
To be seen, tasted, and felt?”
    “It is hard for you to handle contentment, sire?”
    The seas grew choppier. Captain Huxira cursed, and several of the
sailors mumbled in agreement.
    “No matter how gentle your words, Javan,” Rogan said, “yes, that
is so.”
    “But you regret this adventure now?”
    Rogan shrugged his bronzed shoulders and watched the giant bird
as it drew closer.
    “What a wingspan on that beast, it cuts an odd image, no? It
reminds me of fetishes made to Damballah, a god of the dark continent across
the sea to the south.”
    “Sire?”
    Rogan shook his head as if to shake a memory loose. “Nothing—it’s
nothing, boy. Just an old adversary. What was I saying? Oh, yes. I seek not
just an escapade, but something else. Something indefinable. After one grows to
an age, one can feel the ebbing away of power and lusts. My mind is willing,
but the body, well, it thinks about disgracing me.”
    Javan nodded, unsure of what to say.
    Rogan glowered. “Don’t think that of me, boy! I can still knock
down a woman and claim her. I still awake each morning with timber beneath my
loincloth. I just don’t want to die in my bed, Javan. To die in bed, surrounded
by weeping maidens? That’s not the way for one such as me.”
    The waves grew stronger, lapping at the bireme. Several of the
sailors had to grab on to the sides to keep from being thrown to the deck. They
shouted in despair.
    “Steady,” Captain Huxira called. “The sea grows angry.”
    Rogan and Javan glanced at him, and then finished their
conversation.
    “You are a man born in Caucausia,” Javan said. “None of your kin
would want that either. But we don’t know what the future holds. Perhaps seeing
these grand sites will—”
    Every breath on the bireme suddenly stopped as two reddish
serpentine tentacles exploded from the choppy waves, thrusting up from the
right and left sides. A half-dozen more tendrils quickly joined the scarlet
appendages.
    “Sea monster,” Harkon shouted, drawing his steel. “To arms!
Quickly!”
    Wagnar stepped to his brother’s side, sword at the ready. “I told
you that fish was a bad omen. Now, Dagon sends another of his spawn!”
    The slaves, still chained to their rowing posts, screamed in
horror as the waters churned. Oars snapped like twigs in the creature’s
tentacles. The long red arms angrily slapped the craft, rocking it back and
forth. Many of those standing were thrown to the deck. Arms flailing, Javan
slammed into Rogan. They tumbled backward, collapsing in a tangled heap on the
nose of the bireme. Rogan pushed the boy aside and stood. The waters foamed and
then the main body of the creature surfaced off the right front side.
    All of the men, young and old, Alatervaeian and Olmek-Tikalize,
screamed.
    All of them…except for Rogan.
    Grinning, he spat into the wind. The monster would provide far
more sport than the fish had.
    “Come on, then,” he challenged the beast.
    Javan sprang to his feet, but the tentacles slammed into the
bireme again. The youth nearly flipped over the edge, but Rogan grabbed the
nape of his tunic and pulled him back.
    “Fill your bow, Javan,” Rogan