Shadow of a Dark Queen Read Free Page A

shall break free from whatever pit of hell holds it and cross the gulf to hunt you down if it takes ten thousand years.”
    The priest bowed and hissed, “Lord, my life and honor are yours. I remain, to add my small aid to your rear guard. In this pitiful fashion I show my people’s respect and wish to bring the Saaur, who are so like us in so many ways, to our home.”
    If Jarwa was impressed by the sacrifice, he gave no hint. He motioned his youngest son outside the great tent. The youth followed his father to the ridge and looked down upon the distant city, made hellish in the demons’ fires. Faint screams, far beyond those made by mortal throat, tore the evening, and the young leader pushed back the urge to turn his face away.
    â€œJatuk, by this time tomorrow, on some distant world, you will be Sha-shahan of the Saaur.”
    The youth knew this was true no matter how much he would wish it otherwise. He made no false protest.
    â€œI have no trust of snake priests,” whispered Jarwa. “They may seem like us, but always remember, their blood runs cold. They are without passion and their tongues are forked. Remember also the ancient lore of the last visit to us by the snakes, and remember the tales of treachery since the Mother of us all gave birth to the hot bloods and the cold bloods.”
    â€œFather.”
    Putting his hand, calloused with years of swordwork and scarred by age and battle, upon his son’s shoulder, he gripped hard. Firm young muscle resisted under his grasp, and Jarwa felt a faint spark of hope. “I have given my oath, but you will be the one who must honor the pledge. Do nothing to disgrace your ancestors or your people, but be vigilant for betrayal. A generation of service to the snakes is our pledge: thirty turnings of this alien world. But remember: should the snakes break the oath first, you are free to do as you see fit.”
    Removing his hand from his son’s shoulder, he motioned for Kaba to approach. The Sha-shahan’s Shieldbearer approached with his lord’s helm, thegreat fluted head covering of the Sha-shahan, while a groom brought a fresh horse. The great herds had perished, and the best of what remained would go to the new world with the Saaur’s children. Jarwa and his warriors would have to make do with the lesser animals. This one was small, barely nineteen hands, hardly large enough to carry the Sha-shahan’s armored weight. No matter, thought Jarwa. The fight would be a short one.
    Behind them, to the east, a crackle of energy exploded, as if a thousand lightning strikes flashed, illuminating the night. A second later a loud thunder peal sounded, and all turned to see the shimmering in the sky. Jarwa said, “The way is open.”
    The snake priest hurried forward, pointing down the ridge. “Lord, look!”
    Jarwa turned to the west. Out of the distant flames small figures could be seen flying toward them. Bitterly Jarwa knew this was a matter of perspective. The screamers were the size of an adult Saaur, and some of the other fliers were even larger. Leathery wings would make the air crack like a wagoneer’s whip, and shrieks that could drive a sane warrior to madness would fill the dark. Looking at his own hand for any signs of trembling, Jarwa said to his son, “Give me your sword.”
    The youth did as he was bid, and Jarwa handed his son’s sword to Kaba. Then he removed Tual-masok from his scabbard and gave it, hilt first, to his son. “Take your birthright and go.”
    The youth hesitated, then gripped the hilt. No loremaster would glean this ancient weapon from his father’s body to present to the heir. It was the first time in the memory of the Saaur that a Sha-shahanhad voluntarily surrendered the bloodsword while life remained in his heart.
    Without another word, Jatuk saluted his father, turned, and walked to where his own companions waited. With a curt wave of his hand, he