Lords of Destruction by Frank Frazetta & James Silke

Author:Frank Frazetta & James Silke [Frazetta, Frank & Silke, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780812534221
Google: EszwHAAACAAJ
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 310298
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 1989-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Four

SLAVERS

The lean dark muscular nomad stood unseen in the deep shade of a craggy outcropping of red-ochre sandstone, as erect as his spear. His naked body was stained with vermilion mud except for his member and a wide stripe across his face. They were covered with black tattoos, in accordance with his name. He was the slave trader Amadak, the notorious Black Terror of the Wadi Staboulle.

He was the darkness that violated the sun-bright sands which formed the desert, the Body of Black Veshta, and his reputation was known to the very tips of its far corners. But he was obliged to defend it daily, because he had named himself.

His expression was ponderously grave, and his pose needlessly majestic for a man no one could see. But if a man was truly horrible, then he was horrible at all times. Consequently, the thin white slits of his desert eyes clearly showed that his mind was actively contemplating magnificently horrific acts of slaughter and sexual depravity, even though what lay before him was a simple job of work.

The outcropping of rock which concealed the slaver thrust bluntly out of a massive sand dune four hundred feet high. At the base of the dune, the sand feathered out onto the wide undulating tongue of flat hard desert that wound between the dunes. The Wadi Staboulle. Hot wind, rushing out of the belly of the desert, was using the narrow depression of the wadi as a road, and sand rode the wind. It glittered like gold in the mid-day sunlight, and slashed and swirled around a huge horse-drawn wagon plodding west.

An oversized, muscled lout wearing a loincloth held the harness of the lead horse with one hand and the leash of a saddled stallion with the other. He was dragging the reluctant animals forward. An older white-haired man, chained to a big-breasted woman, led the other lead horse, and a handsome young man and a girl guided the remaining two. The lout plodded ahead mindlessly, despite the growing threat of a sandstorm. But the others staggered uncertainly and looked about in desperation for some cover to hide within.

The Black Terror of the Wadi Staboulle remained motionless, measuring the two female prey as they came closer and closer. When they passed directly below him, he smiled with great significance and, touching his member, belly and mouth, offered up a silent prayer to sacred Black Veshta for the blessing she was bestowing on him.

The women’s plain tunics had been ripped and tom by wind, sand and thorn bush. Only rags and tatters covered their sun-darkened bodies, and his trained desert eyes, even at such a great distance, could see that Bigbreast was at the culmination of womanly beauty and that the girl was at the threshold of perhaps even more wondrous delights of the flesh.

Amadak could not restrain a small smile. Black Veshta’s sandy body was delivering forth two morsels of flesh of uncommon beauty, and delivering them to him at the same time her high priestess had offered great rewards for just such beauty.

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