King of the Bastards Read Free Page B

Still, he held his
oar and stayed at his post.
    The bireme lurched again and knocked Rogan to the deck. He slid across
the ship and flipped over, almost going into the churning sea.
    “Rogan!” Javan reached out for his uncle’s hand as if he could
breach the great distance for him.
    “Stop crying, dammit,” Rogan snapped as he got to his feet. A
tentacle whipped by his head. He withdrew his broadsword and ordered, “Release
the grapnels again.”
    The sailors released the grapnels and the beast’s embrace
slacked. It surged toward them again, long arms flailing, wrapping around the
ship’s hull.
    As the bireme slanted, Rogan leapt past the cringing sailors.
Sword held high up like a spear, he dropped onto the creature’s head, right
above its maw. The monster bellowed, infuriated at this intrusion.
    “For Wodan!” he shouted, driving the blade deep into the beast’s
left eye, seeking a death stroke. The thing’s screams increased as Rogan shoved
the sword deeper, twisting as if he were planting fence posts. The hilt jutted
from the head, and the creature shuddered. Using the wound as a foothold on the
slippery hide, Rogan inserted a boot into the bloody gash and yanked his sword
free. Stabbing down again, he probed for the brain. Finding none, he dodged the
frenzied tendrils, still clinging to the monster’s head.
    A great cheer went up from the sailors. Javan shook his head from
side to side.
    Rogan used the beak of the monster as a stepping-stone, and
crossed over; thrusting the blade into the beast’s other eye. The creature
heaved backwards with a tumultuous splash. One massive tentacle gripped Rogan’s
waist, dragging him beneath the waves. The creature submerged and all that was
left was a mass of red foam.
    The bireme rocked as the sailors ran to the side, desperate for a
glimpse of their barbarian leader.
    The red water’s surface grew still.
    “Oh goddess, no,” Javan whispered.
    Then, from the crow’s nest high above their heads, a sailor
shouted, “I see him!”
    Rogan surfaced, spitting water and shaking his mane.
    Captain Huxira laughed, shoving his men into action. “Throw him a
line. The sharks will be out for a meal soon. The blood in the water calls to
them. Hurry now.”
    Javan shuddered as Rogan was hauled back onboard. Sleek, angular
shark fins already jutted from the water, racing towards them.
    “That took a lot of stones,” Harkon muttered.
    “Or no brains,” Wagnar whispered.
    Tired, but defiant, Rogan chuckled. “Harkon. Wagnar. You boys are
hardly alive. You haven’t even seen your twenty-first summer yet. I have seen
sixtyof them. Never have I been more ready to die, yet felt more
alive.”
    Javan found a dry cloak in the back of the ship and slipped it
around Rogan’s shoulders.
    “Sire,” Wagnar exclaimed, “never have I seen such a beast. Surely
Dagon sent it to impede us?”
    Saving his breath, Rogan shrugged.
    “Or perhaps Leviathan,” Harkon muttered.
    The others blanched at the name, making the various signs of
their own preferred deities. Rogan eschewed such religious nonsense, but even
he turned grim at Leviathan’s mention.
    “Speak not of the Thirteen,” Javan warned Harkon. “Lest you draw
their attention. They have many doors into this world. To speak of them is to
invite them entry.”
    Rogan spat over the side. “The Thirteen need no invitation,
Javan. None of their kind does. If they want to come, let them come. I’ll face
them while the rest of you cower.”
    The crew fell silent.
    Huxira grimaced. “This creature that attacked us was just that—a
creature, rather than some demonic beastie. I have seen its like from afar, but
they never come this close to shore. Methinks this attack wasn’t chance. It was
guided. We are lucky to have our lives.”
    “A guided beast?” Rogan laughed, but his response held no humor.
“Oh, bullcrap.”
    Frowning, Javan looked up. Even after the battle, the huge lone
bird still circled in the empty sky.
    And