The Swordsman 2: A Pulp Harem Fantasy Adventure by Zack Archer

Author:Zack Archer [Archer, Zack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Harem, Fantasy
ISBN: 9781729498309
Google: 3cW7vQEACAAJ
Publisher: Penguin Random House South Afr
Published: 2018-10-31T17:34:02+00:00

23

Out of sight of the Kindred, Mossheart marched Freyja and Hilde forward until the trio were standing in the immense shadow of the black tree. The alchemist nudged Freyja, who’d stopped dead in her tracks, eyes closed, her brow furrowed as if she was deep in contemplation.

“Keep moving,” Mossheart said.

“There are more strangers in the Blight,” Freyja said, her eyes still shut.

“How do you know?”

“Because I can sense an imbalance in my domain, you fifl. Others have breached the wall and are treading ground that was never meant to be trod. Soon they will draw near.”

Her eyes opened and she smiled grimly. “They come for you.”

“I’m not scared of the king’s men.”

“But are you scared of Beowulf?”

Mossheart’s pace quickened. He managed something like a smile. “Whatever vision you claim to have seen is a false one. Beowulf is dead.”

“Is he?”

“I killed him.”

“You’re a poor liar,” she whispered in response. “I think he has come to finish what you started.”

Mossheart heard a snicker from Hilde and eyed her with a bland curiosity. “Have you pissed your pants yet, wizard? If not, you should, because Beowulf is going to take your life,” the fiery redhead said. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Not if I kill him first.”

He conjured up a binding made of blue light that he wrapped around Hilde’s mouth, preventing her from talking. Then he roughly manipulated the bindings around the two women so that he could move them simply by manipulating his wrist. He steered them toward the black door that glowed around its edges, evidence of a powerful spell.

“Release the spell and open the door,” Mossheart said to Freyja.

“Release my hands from your bindings and I will,” she replied with a grin.

There was something about the way she was smirking at him that enraged the alchemist. He conjured a sliver of energy and positioned it under Freyja’s chin, tipping her head up. Then he leaned toward her, close enough to smell her musk.

“Open the fucking door, woman.”

“Do you know what’s on the other side?”

He smiled. “My destiny.”

She rotated toward the door and her eyes rolled over white. She began hollering what sounded like invectives mixed with ancient runes that caused the air to visibly waver. There was burst of light, and then the door rocked on its stout hinges and opened.

“It is done,” Freyja said. “You may enter.”

Mossheart was no fool. He commandeered both women, pushing them forward. “You first.”

The three moved through the door. The space on the other side was sizable, as large as the entirety of the interior of Heorot. It was circular in shape and reeked of biological decay, a scent that was so strong it pricked the alchemist’s nostrils. The air inside the tree was stale, damp, and smothering. His eyes watered and he scrunched up his nose, struggling to take everything in.

Nothing stirred inside. He immediately wondered whether the goddess had deceived him.

He stepped forward. The semi-darkness was suffocating, the only illumination coming from a few shafts of light that corkscrewed down through tiny holes in the walls and the spaces that lay far overhead.

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