Parasite Soul Read Online Free PDF Page A

Rowland clamped a hand on Simon’s
shoulder. “You just take a seat. We have to verify your…” He
smirked unpleasantly. “ Story. ”
    “The King, he don’t take kindly to liars and cheats,” the big man
added as Simon cast about for the invisible seat he was supposed to take.
There wasn’t one, so he settled himself on a rock instead. Perhaps his
legend would mention how nonchalantly he’d sauntered into camp.
    Following a heated disagreement about who should make the ascent to
face a potentially very pissed-off dragon, the taller man – Brannock - pulled
rank and ordered Rowland on his way. Refusing to carry a torch in
case it attracted the dragon’s attention, the young guard disappeared grumbling
into the darkness. Simon resigned himself to spending the next two hours
in the company of his large, dull-witted companion.
    “He better find what you say he’ll find,” Brannock growled, “Or
it’ll be the worse for you. And for him,” he added thoughtfully.
    “I could use a drink,” Simon suggested hopefully. His nerves
still jangled about like puppets being manhandled by a hyperactive madman.
    “You could use a cuff upside the head,” Brannock returned. Possibly
he labored under the misapprehension that he was amusing, because his teeth
gleamed in the torchlight. Simon made a wry face and went back to sitting
quietly.
    Rowland took his time. By the time the young guardsman had
returned, other men had joined them at the checkpoint: ambitious peasants like
Simon, wondering what the hold-up was.
    “It’s past time I was on my way up to kill that wretched thing,” one
square, weatherworn block of a man declared, his voice like a stone being
ground into gravel. Simon had no difficulty in recognizing him as Lars
Tovoch, one of the men who’d tormented him earlier, shoving him about and
scoffing at his useless old sword.
    “Apparently,” Brannock answered, with heavy emphasis, “The beast’s
cold. The lad here did for it.” His heavy brow furrowed as though
the enormity of the claim had just sunk in. “So you just sit tight while
we ver… veri… while we get to the bottom of things.”
    Hands planted on hips, Tovoch burst out laughing. “This
teat-suckling lad? Are you having me on? This straggling weed
killed the dragon? Without so much as a stitch of armor? Without a
sword which…” the man paused, frowning, as Simon held up his blade for
inspection. There was little doubt that it was dragon’s blood which had
devoured the metal, as it still fizzed and bubbled quietly in patches.
    “I killed it,” said Simon.
    “Ridiculous,” Tovoch sneered, but his manner was now markedly less
assured. He gestured to the men who’d accompanied him. “Let’s go
lads. Once they’ve cleared up this nonsense we’ll have our go at the
beast.” He grinned at Simon. “Lying to the King still costs you
your tongue, does it not? And lying to the King through his men is
no different, in principle. If I were you, I’d get used to talking ike
ihh .” He mimicked what he clearly thought a tongue-deprived man would sound
like.
    “If I were you ,” Simon answered calmly, “I’d get used to the
idea of going back to slopping your pigs, because the princess will never be
yours.”
    Tovoch tensed. A small vein pulsed in his forehead; for a
moment Simon thought he was going to lurch forward and throttle him.
Indeed, if Brannock’s hand hadn’t stolen toward his sword, blood would almost
certainly have been shed. Instead, with a fixed and wrathful grin, Tovoch
executed a rudely dismissive gesture and stumped off.
    It was no small thing to crush a man’s ambitions, Simon reflected,
but in this case he thought he’d rather enjoyed it. His night only
improved when Rowland returned with the astonishing news that Simon had indeed
done the impossible, the unthinkable, and defeated a nightmare which had
claimed the lives of hundreds of people, many of whom were trained
soldiers. Simon relished each and every