The Sword & Sorcery Anthology
Anti-hero Elric infiltrates a band of mercenaries to match wits with a powerful sorcerer. With her trio of dragons, Daenerys Stormbringer makes a fool’s bargain with slave traders. A mage’s apprentice, the young Grey Mouser uses newfound power to battle an evil duke. Conan breaks into the Tower of the Elephant to steal a spectacular jewel with a dark secret. Despite her drunkard’s ways, Malmury slays an old sea troll before facing his powerful daughter.
Fatalistically, Tain polished the thin traceries of inlaid gold. “Are you?... Is that real?” “Yes, Rula.” He reattached the mask to his helmet. “I was a leading centurion of the Demon Guard. The Demon Prince’s personal bodyguard.” He returned mask and helmet to his mule packs, started collecting the rest of his armor. He had to go. “How?... How can that be? You’re not....” “We’re just men, Rula. Not devils.” He guided the mule to the packs, threw a pad across her back. “We have our
forces.... Hadn’t Toma blamed Mikla? Didn’t Rula accuse Toma? “That’s all. I can’t do any good shouting. Torfin is spending the night. Rula. Steban gave you a package.” She nodded. She refused to speak. “Thank you.” For an instant he feared she hadn’t understood. But the packet came with a murmured, “It’s all right. I’ll control my feelings.” “Is the broth ready?” He felt compelled to convince Rula. She ladled a wooden bowl full. “Tain.” “Uhm.” “Don’t expect me to stop feeling.” “I
got a customer,” she told them. “Why don’t you see what she wants?” “We don’t serve murderers,” one of them said. Cori smiled at him. “You served me with enough eagerness last winter, when I came in different clothes. If I remember—yes, weren’t you the one who suggested I could serve you below the Sea Wall?” A few people laughed; a few more joined in when the waiter blurted out, “That’s a lie. I’ve never seen her before in my life.” An older waiter slapped him on the back. “Forget it, Jom,” he
is only horror.” He swayed, and she caught hold of him. “Take me with you, Mouse,” she said. He stared frowningly into her eyes. “You do not hate me then, for what I have done to your father? Or what I have done to the teachings of Glavas Rho?” he questioned puzzledly. “You are not afraid of me?” “I am afraid of everything,” she whispered, clinging to him. “I am afraid of you, yes, a great deal afraid. But that fear can be unlearned. Oh, Mouse, will you take me away?—to Lankhmar or to Earth’s
your king!” shouted Topops. “I will kill no more slaves to Lomboan’s words! A king does not punish slavery!” But as he retreated into the shrine, his adversary sheathed his sword in the sand and poised a knife to throw. He refused Topops even the honour of a sword; instead, a knife, as one impaled a criminal. Topops clamped his mind about the shrine and the doorway contracted, cleaving the man’s hands and arms as he sought to hold back the walls. Then Topops, out of pity, brought the walls