Dawn of the Ice Bear

Table of Contents

 

NOTHING WORTH DOING...

Gorian and his men were here for the Teeth of the Ice Bear. And, since they had the assistance of some sorcerer—who presumably told the Stygian responsible for its theft about the crown in the first place—they would have some idea where to find it.

Not much to go on,
Kral thought. But better than nothing, which was what they had had only moments before.

“So we stay with them?” Mikelo asked, just as Donial was about to.

“Yes,” Kral replied. “And when they find the crown, we take it instead.”

“There are more of them, and better armed,” Donial said. “And they have magic on their side.”

Kral chuckled, without humor. “Did I say it would be easy?”

 

 

 

 

 

GHOST OF THE WALL
WINDS OF THE WILD SEA
Don't miss the adventures of
Anok, Heretic of Stygia . . .
SCION OF THE SERPENT
HERETIC OF SET
VENOM OF LUXUR
And don't miss
the Legends of Kern . . .
BLOOD OF WOLVES
CIMMERIAN RAGE
SONGS OF VICTORY

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DAWN OF THE ICE BEAR

 

An Ace Book / published by arrangement with Conan Properties International, LLC.

 

PRINTING HISTORY

Ace edition / June 2006

Copyright © 2006 by Conan Properties International, LLC.

 

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Acknowledgments

Thanks to Theodore Bergquist, Fredrik Malmberg, Jeff Conner, and Matt Forbeck, for faith and inspiration. To Ginjer Buchanan, for follow-through. And to my family, to my friends, and to the Peraltas, the Swisshelms, and the Chiricahuas, for being outside and keeping me sane and centered through it all.

A SCORCHING SUN seared the windswept Stygian landscape. The temperature climbed to unseasonable heights, even for this normally torrid land. Flowers wilted on their vines. Small pools of water evaporated overnight, leaving chalky mineral rings where they'd been.

Shehkmi al Nasir was barely aware of the dramatic change in the weather. He had not ventured beyond the walls of his own compound in weeks. The magics he had been working were wearing on him, so now he sought relaxation. Lounging in a deep copper tub, the sorcerer allowed three slave girls to bathe him, in water scented with oils and spices. Two of the girls were Kushites, the third the youngest niece of a Hyrkanian prince. She was a girl of surpassing beauty, with flame-red hair and flashing emerald eyes. Like the others—also beauties, but without her royal blood—she was dressed in only the scantiest silk breeches, lest her garb get soaked by the bathwater.

If any of the girls found him repulsive, with his tattooed, scarred face, his slashed-away earlobes, his vulturelike head, they knew better than to show it. Al Nasir was not known for his mercy or understanding. Everyone in his household had heard stories of his fearsome flights of rage, and they tried hard not to incite them.

Just now, his attention was not on the girls, lovely as they were. His thoughts were far away, on the ship that wended toward him carrying a rare prize. He had researched the strange Pictish crown that the Aquilonian mage Kanilla Rey had asked him about. He'd had to scour the most ancient texts he had: scrolls that he feared would turn to dust in his hands, old brittle-paged volumes. Finally, in a book with no title at all, but just an unknown symbol burned into its binding of human skin, he found that which he sought. The crown had a special significance to the Picts, but it had been around since long before the Great Cataclysm. Lemurians had known of it, and their songs spoke of its power. Atlanteans had coveted it. Battles had been fought for possession of the crown, and thousands had died in quest of it. How it finally came into possession of the Picts was not recorded, nor was it known where they kept it.

What he could surmise was that it was an object of great power—too great to be left to the savage Picts. They claimed it, but it was no more theirs than the sun or the moon was.

And soon it would belong to Shehkmi al Nasir. He was already a tremendously potent sorcerer. Whether this would give him the ability to challenge Thoth Amon's status as the greatest of Stygian mages, he knew not.

Even if it didn't, it would firmly ensconce him in second place. In a land dedicated to the pursuit of the dark arts, that was still a position to be valued. He would be respected, feared throughout the land, as he had never been before.

Shehkmi al Nasir chuckled dryly. The sound of his awful laughter raised goose bumps on the flesh of the girls who washed him.

 

 

EVERYONE CALLED THE ship the
Restless Heart,
even though the name
Barachan Spur
had been painted on her. But the
Spur
had been the name the Argossean pirates who had tried to commandeer her had called her by. Since they were all dead, or back on the coast of Shem, the surviving sailors of the original
Restless Heart,
and those of her passengers who yet lived, used the ship's original name. Most of their number, including the ship's Captain Ferrin, were buried back in Shem. Gorian of Aquilonia was in command now. He had magic at his disposal, which he had used to dispatch the buccaneers. His small troop of mercenaries already swore fealty to him. Upon seeing his magic at work, the
Heart
's original crew did the same.

The only ones on board who had not specifically promised their allegiance to Gorian were Alanya and Donial, the children of Invictus; their traveling companion Kral, a young Pict; and Mikelo, a Zingaran boy who had been a captive of the pirates. Alanya, Donial, and Kral were paying passengers. Mikelo, having been rescued from the Argosseans, had agreed to stay with the others until they returned to Aquilonia, from which he would make his own way home. But that would have to wait. The
Restless Heart
was bound for Stygia, in the opposite direction. Alanya hoped they all survived to travel back the other way.

The four of them had been allowed to keep the cabin that she, Donial, and Kral had rented at the journey's beginning. There were four bunks in the cabin, so while it was a squeeze, it was still more comfortable than the crew's quarters. With the porthole open, fresh salt air blew into the cabin, erasing the scents of four people closely confined.