Dragon of the Black Tower by Jack Conner

Author:Jack Conner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: epic fantasy
Publisher: Jack Conner
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Of course, thought Baleron as he watched it happen. A sickening feeling grew in his gut. I should’ve known.

Throgmar had said it himself: Gilgaroth’s true talent lay with inflicting pain. He had given Baleron back Rolenya only now to take her away again—raising the prince’s hopes only so that he’d have something to dash.

Her wide, panicked blue eyes shot from her brother to the black beast that shared the arena with her. Its lips lifted back from long, dripping fangs. Its awful, intelligent eyes narrowed to cruel slits.

The Borchstogs, for once, did not cheer for it; they were still too moved by Rolenya’s song to root for her bloody demise.

Baleron watched on helplessly.

The cuerdrig, Thorg, stalked arrogantly over to the princess, weaving through the mounds of wrecked bodies and body parts strewn by previous fights. He stuck his black face up close to her small pale one and sprayed her with his steaming breath. She shook in fear and wrenched her head away.

Outraged, Baleron screamed, “Nooo!” and attempted to rise. A Borchstog cuffed him and he sank back down, still bound to the chair.

Below, the great black wolf began circling Rolenya. Tearful, she shook her head, denying the reality of it all.

Gilgaroth issued a sound that may have been a laugh.

“No!” Baleron shouted again.

“Ah, but yes,” said Gilgaroth. “I want you to see her rent to pieces. My pet can go as slow as I wish.”

“Don’t kill her! Put me in her place.”

The Dark One said simply, “No.”

“Fine,” Baleron growled. “Then give me a sword! You want sport? I’ll give you sport!”

“I do not want sport.”

“What do you want?”

The Dark One leaned forward. “I want you to do my bidding, and you are now too aware of your Doom for it to act without your consent.”

Baleron began to sweat. His left hand throbbed painfully. Sound began to drift in and out of his hearing, and the world began to tilt.

“I will not serve you,” he shouted. “I am not your Savior. I will never be your Savior.”

“Serve me and have purpose. Serve me and save ... Rolenya.”

“No,” Baleron said, half to himself, shaking his head wretchedly. “No. I can’t.”

Lord Gilgaroth raised an armored hand as if clutching something invisible, as if summoning something, and once more, Rolenya screamed. At her feet, the ground cracked and a huge serpent unwound from the earth, thick and spined and hissing. It coiled about her bound body, squeezing, caressing, winding slowly, almost lovingly, about her—then began to constrict.

She tried to cry out but could not draw breath. It would mash her into boneless jelly.

“NOW what do you say?” asked Gilgaroth.

Baleron glared at him. Said nothing.

The Shadow raised his other hand high, as if grasping something far above, and then yanked it down dramatically. A horde of shadow-wraiths dropped from the smoke-wreathed ceiling. Some had the forms of demons and beasts. Some were hooded and cloaked. Still more had no real form at all. But one and all fell like a wrathful cloud from

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