King of the Bastards Read Free Page A

snarled. He leapt into a crouch and
barked at the crew. “Get your pikes and spears up here, Wodan damn you all!”
    Amazed that the ship still ran level, Javan fought to gain his
balance. He swallowed down the fear in his throat, unslung his bow, fixed two
arrows and drew back, setting his eyes on the beast. All sound had ceased, save
his pulse, throbbing in his ears. His heart beat like a rabbit. He hesitated,
staring at the slender, tube-shaped head protruding from the beast’s bulbous
red torso. Two obsidian circles stared back.
    “It looks like a banana,” he sputtered, “or a gourd with eyes…”
    Teeth clenched, Rogan grabbed a spear from a stunned sailor,
reared back and threw it at the creature.
    “Even a gourd with eyes still
has
eyes, boy! Let your aim
find them.”
    Clearing his head, Javan drew in a breath and released. The steel
tipped arrows sailed toward the main body of the beast, striking just as
Rogan’s spear deflected off an area between its eyes. A high-pitched screech
ripped the air, not in pain, but rage. The creature’s maw opened, side to side,
like a split beak.
    One elongated arm coiled around a young sailor and dragged the
flailing victim below the surface. When the limb emerged from the water, the
sailor’s struggles had ceased and the body hung limp.
    Lurching forward on the swaying deck, Harkon and Wagnar hurled
spears at the monster. In response, one of its tendrils twisted around the
handrails on the edge of the boat, snapping them like sticks. Wagnar buried his
broadsword in the rubbery flesh. The steel sank deep into the tentacle, lodging
in the middle. Pulpy fluid burst from the wound. Ichor ran across the deck and
Harkon slipped on the boards, striking his head on the butt of an oar as he
went down.
    Rogan watched the beast try to reposition itself to the east side
of the ship. Head swiveling, he assessed the situation, reverting to his days
as a battlefield commander.
    “You men, help me with the grapnels!”
    The sailors obeyed Rogan’s edict as the bireme went up on its
left side, nearly capsizing. More appendages thudded from beneath the hull.
Javan fired twice more at the eyes of the beast, missing again. He cursed his
faulty aim.
    “My father would hang his head in shame were he to see this
display.”
    “Tis not your skills, young master,” the toothless Captain Huxira
advised him, stabbing a seeking tendril with his curved dagger. “Tis the
pitching of this craft. Surely, the beast means to sink us.”
    Harkon and Wagnar’s swords flashed up and down, glinting in the
sunlight. The brothers fought as one. Gore and fluids covered them but they
didn’t seem to notice.
    “Javan,” Rogan called out, “to me.”
    Javan ran to his uncle’s side, half sliding past him. “What have
you in mind, sire?”
    Rogan grabbed the long, heavy grapnels. “If that sea monster
wants to hug us, by Wodan, he’ll feel my embrace first. AWAY!”
    They released the grapnels. The long cords took hold of several
of the creature’s squirming tentacles.
    “Pull,” Rogan implored all who could hear him.
    A dozen men heaved on the lines.
    Wagnar yelled, “Sire, we will flip over or be dragged down with
it!”
    “Nay!” Rogan bellowed as the bireme leveled out, using the force
of the giant beast against it.
    A few of the grapnels bit into the monster’s appendages, severing
them. The creature roared again, and several of the sailors clasped their ears.
Enraged tentacles slapped at the men, crushing and twisting. One appendage
coiled around a young sailor’s midsection, squeezing him in half, letting his
crushed upper half sag over, leaving legs to stand for a moment, not realizing
they were dead. Another snaked over Huxira, but the old man stabbed it with his
dagger and the tendril recoiled. The screams of a slave grew muffled as a tentacle
wrapped around his head and flexed, crushing his skull like an overripe melon.
His brains dripped from the arm as it sought out more prey.