Barbarian Backlash: Dragon Wars - Book 14 of 20: An Epic Sword and Sorcery Fantasy Adventure Series by Craig Halloran

Author:Craig Halloran [Halloran, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Two Ten Book Press, Inc.
Published: 2021-01-30T16:00:00+00:00

26

Dyphestive couldn’t believe his ears. The crowd roared like a crashing waterfall. He stood at the gate, stripped down to his trousers, his mask in hand, and watched the metal door split open. He took a deep breath.

One step at a time, he wandered toward the opening. The two guardians posted at the gate gazed upon him.

“Victory or death,” one said.

“You’re the champion of us all,” said the other.

Holding the mask in his crushing grip, he lifted it before his face and stared into its haunting eyes. “I have a feeling I’m going to need Iron Bones today.” He pulled the mask over his head and adjusted it. A coldness fell over his body. He walked into the sunlight and stood before the howling crowd.

“I give you your champion, people of Ice Vale!” the arena master hollered. “He slays giants, ettins, some say he even slays dragons! The future lies in his fists. Our lives rest on his broad shoulders. Will you be victorious, White Ice Slayer?”

Dyphestive moved deeper into the arena and climbed the rocks piled on the south end. He didn’t see any sign of Mad Wolf, but Hercullon, his family, and his guests sat in the box in the stands behind him. He noted Commander Shaw, Dirklen, and Magnolia, who looked upon him with mild amusement. He saw no sign of Grey Cloak.

The arena master lifted his arms high and dropped them suddenly, quieting the crowd. “I see your eyes searching the gate, waiting to see the challenger, a warrior of great renown in the Rocks, a fighter that has never failed. Where are you, Mad Wolf the Berserker?”

People leaned over the arena wall, on one another’s backs and shoulders, craning their necks toward the northern entrance. Silence fell over the stadium.

The grinding of metal hinges sounded as the guardians pulled the north gate open. They remained safely on the other side of the gate facing the shadows in the tunnel. Mad Wolf the Berserker eased out of the tunnel. The silence was broken by the whispers and gasps of the crowd as their jaws dropped.

Mad Wolf stood every bit of seven feet tall, broad shouldered and deep chested. The seasoned man wore a long fur cloak with wolves’ heads on the shoulders and leather bracers. He had nasty pink scars on his albino skin. His wild hair, covering his ears and stopping at his neck, was as black as coal. His big eyes were like wildfires. His flat nose flared. Cords of muscles twitched in his arms and legs as he moved like a great cat and stood upon the icy rocks in bare feet.

The Wolves from the Rocks started to chant and cheer as Mad Wolf removed his cloak and slung it to the ground. He crouched down, lifted his face to the sky, and bayed like a wolf. His brethren joined him. The sound grew louder, and the dragons roared in return.

Dyphestive glanced back at Hercullon. The man’s brow furrowed, and his fists clenched the arms of his chair.

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