Lords of Destruction Read Online Free PDF Page B

rolled, filling the
bowl until the reptile was only a vague shadow within the yellow mist. Almost
languorously, the creature rolled over, and its belly opened up like a lipless
mouth. Hissing issued forth, faint and gentle, and a sharp wailing shriek. Then
all sound and movement stopped, and the vapors hung heavy and thick, hiding
whatever lay within.
    The horns of Gath’s helmet grew hot and slightly erect. A glow reappeared
behind the eye slits. Excitement was spilling through him. He rolled his
shoulders and advanced defiantly into the bowl, dispersing the smoke with the
flat of his swinging blade until he reached the bottom.
    Within the thinning vapors, a woman sprawled beside the jar, heaving with
exhaustion. Her colorless tunic and faded brown cloak were ragged and rent with
holes. She reclined on one hip and elbows, torso twisted away from Gath and face
hidden between her arms. They were bare, an ivory white, and her legs were drawn
up under her in artful disarray. Lush curves of breast, hip and thigh pressed
through the torn openings in her garments, their poverty only enhancing the
wealth of her voluptuous beauty.
    Gath’s eyes cast a hot light over the lovely sprawl, here and there invading
its secret places.
    When the smoke cleared, she lifted her head. Long straight black hair fell
over face and shoulders. She parted it with three red-tipped fingers and looked
up at Gath. Her face was the crowning jewel of her beauty. Bright red lips,
creamy cheeks tinted with rose madder, grey-gold eyes set in thick black almond
outlines flaring under arched brows. Regal. Deadly. Cobra, the Queen of
Serpents.
    She looked about furtively, then back at Gath, and asked breathlessly, “Where
are we? What are you going to do with me?”
    He did not reply.
    “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
    “Probably,” he said, as if it would take no more effort than folding a saddle blanket.
    She hesitated, then spoke in a slow, precise voice. “That would be a mistake,
Dark One. I can help you. And I won’t give you any trouble. I’ve learned that
lesson. I’ll be whatever you want me to be, slave… cook… whore…anything.”
    “We’ll see.”
    A careful smile lifted the corners of her lips, cold and bitter, and she drew
her body into a sitting position, self-consciously arranging her rags about her.
Just above her left ankle, the pale flesh of her calf had a greenish cast that
grew darker at the anklebones, then became thick and crusted, and turned into
scales covering her entire foot. Not the plain brown workmanlike scales of the
Skink, but the glittering ice-blues and emerald-greens of the cobra. Seeing it,
she gasped shrilly, and quickly drew the offending appendage under her,
arranging her tattered cloak over it. Shame blotted her flushed cheeks.
    There was no contempt or pity in Gath’s harsh low voice. “Your cage has not
been kind to you.”
    She dipped her head, more in surrender than agreement, and said submissively,
“I regret that my appearance offends my new lord and master.” A familiar
stroking caress echoed in her tone, barely veiling the also familiar challenge.
“Your prison was so small and cramped, and my strength has been diminished by a
diet of dirt and beetles. But when it returns, the scales will go away, and you
will no longer be reminded of my unnatural lineage. Until that time… if you
will allow me… I will bathe and adjust my toilet to be as pleasing to your
sight as possible.”
    She started to rise.
    “Sit still!” he barked.
    She sank back, eyes white with alarm.
    He threw a leather thong to her. “Pick up the jar.” She did as she was told
and sat obediently holding the jar in her lap.
    He nodded at it. “Remove the mandrake root and tie it around your neck.”
    She smiled ironically. “Haven’t lost your charm, have you, Dark One? Here I
am, powerless and at your mercy, and wearing nothing but rags and shame, and
still you would have me believe