Sword Destiny (25 page)

Kananda watched them ride out of sight and then he and Kasim turned away. They rode slowly back to golden Karakhor, where a black steel spire still rose from the cluster of sandstone temples. The encircling river ran silver-blue and tiny white and yellow flowers had begun to speckle the fresh green of the plain.

Kananda thought about the God behind All Gods and wondered. He was sure that Raven was wrong and he knew now that the Hindu pantheon of Indra, Varuna and Agni could not explain it all. Had Alpha even begun to understand?

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The Sword Lord

 

Sword Empire

From the exotic mists of Vedic mythology to the harsh and barbaric Gheddan Empire, the Law of the Sword is carried godlessly into the space age.

 

Book 2 of THE FIFTH PLANET

 

Sword Empire

© 2007 Robert Leader

 

The first mission to control the Third Planet has failed, and the Sword Lord of Ghedda, Raven, has been driven out of the ancient Hindu Kingdom of Karakhor and forced to return to the planet Dooma. He takes with him Maryam, princess of Karakhor, who sees him as her lover and a possible savior in the coming battle against the might of Maghalla.

They are pursued by Kananda, First Prince of Karakhor, drawn by love for his star goddess, Zela, and his determination to find the sister he believes has been taken by force.

On the Fifth Planet they are all hurled into a terrible arms race between two warring continents. A planetary cataclysm looms as Kananda and Zela undertake a desperate mission into the heart of the Sword Empire.

For Zela, it is a race against time to save her world. For Kananda, it is a matter of love and honor to find Maryam.

And both seek vengeance against the Sword Lord.

 

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Sword Empire:

 

Radd was light and fast, moving quickly on the toes and balls of his feet. He came at Raven in an attacking whirlwind of blurred steel, to the accompaniment of loud cheers of encouragement from the crowd. A lesser swordsman than Raven would have died in those first few furious minutes, but Raven's blade matched the speed of his opponent's and held Radd at sword's length as they fought back and forth across the raised dueling ground.

Some of the cheering began to falter, and Raven smiled into Radd's ice-cold eyes. He knew now what they had all expected. He had spent almost eight weeks in deep space and they had assumed that he would still be stiff from lack of exercise. But even in the confines of the ship he had worked daily to keep himself loose and supple, and to maintain the strength of his sword arm and wrist.

Radd bared his teeth in an answering smile, and for a split second, his pressure eased. Raven smashed forward an attack that drove the younger man backward and now the cheering all but died away.

Despite his slightness of build, Radd had the strength of coiled steel. He suddenly leaped high and whirled sideways. It was a neat trick, well practised and perfectly executed, but Raven had seen similar before. He whirled on his heel and his blade was there, defending as Radd attacked again. Raven was forced to give ground, and again there were cheers from Radd's supporters.

Raven had the measure of his man now. Radd's swordplay was brilliant, and he was without doubt the most dangerous opponent Raven had ever faced, but Radd had his weakness.

Raven knew that he was being pushed back to the very edge of the dueling platform. The uncertain cheers for Radd became louder, and then triumphant. Raven's heels were inches from the edge, and he risked all on flicking his gaze to the right as though checking the fighting room that was still available. It was the second Radd had waited for— the glacial eyes hardened, and his right shoulder hunched fractionally upward.

Raven saw the tell-tale sign from the corner of his left eye. He pivoted instantly on his left heel, dropping his upper body forward to keep his balance as he sucked his belly back. Radd's thrust lunged through suddenly empty air between Raven's chest and his knees, the disemboweling twist did no more than scratch the golden chain mail of his cod piece.

Radd recovered too late. Raven's blade flashed up and cut down again in a vicious back slash. The cut took Radd in the side of the neck and the force of the blow severed his head from his body. The dead man's trunk reeled sideways, pumping blood in a bright crimson fountain, and then crashed to the floor. The detached head rolled over to the foot of the table where the Council of Twelve sat and gaped.

There was a stunned silence. Raven slowly straightened and flexed his shoulders. He looked for the chalk-white face of Maryam and gave her a reassuring smile. Then he rested the flat of his bloodied blade briefly in the palm of his free hand as his sardonic gaze passed over the remaining spectators.

Taron, Garl and Landis found their breath, filled their lungs, and gave a great mutual roar of approval.

Raven smiled back at them and waited for the applause to fade. Then his smile disappeared as he returned his full attention to the Council of Twelve.

He walked back to his former position where he had stood to address them, and casually leaned forward to spike Radd's head, sliding the point of his blade into the severed windpipe. He held his grim trophy aloft.

“Swordmaster Radd was very good,” he said conversationally. “But he relied too much on his fancy tricks.”

He flicked the head disdainfully away, watching it roll off the edge of the platform. Then he took a pace forward, his hard gaze fixed on Doran. The old Sword Lord stared back at him without flinching, although Doran knew he was staring death in the face. The entire room was hushed, knowing that Raven now had full right to challenge Doran to the sword.

Raven's eyes flickered to the right, to the face of Karn. He raised one eyebrow in silent question.

Karn's face was another frozen mask. Nothing cracked, but almost imperceptibly he moved his head.

Raven was surprised. Both his eyebrows lifted, seeking confirmation.

Again Karn made the silent, negative motion of his head.

Raven returned his direct, thoughtful gaze to Doran. For some reason Karn did not want him to re-issue the sword challenge and kill his enemy.

She has to decide if she's a hero…or just a killer after all.

 

Death of Heroes

© 2008 Saje Williams

 

Morrigan, immortal assassin and notorious party girl, is itching for a challenge to test her skills and the powers of her new agency—anything that'll get her mind off Byron. Her interest in the young vampire goes a lot farther than professional regard, and she pulled every string she could reach to get him on her team. Thanks to his annoying code of ethics, though, he spurns her advances at every turn.

Bryon's ideals won't let him do anything the easy way, something in which Morrigan specializes. Where she's concerned, fascination wars with suspicion and, generally, suspicion wins. He can trust her to do her job in the most ruthless way imaginable. Trust her with his heart and soul? Not going to happen.

Now Morrigan's got what she wanted, the most challenging mission she's ever undertaken. A war between human and superhuman factions has destroyed one of the variant Earths, and ArchAngel is sending her and a team back in time to change the outcome.

But to succeed, she'll have to make the greatest moral choice of her life—do the job as she knows must be done, or risk the outcome to finally gain Bryon's trust and acceptance.

It's not the first time Morrigan's ridden the edge of the knife. But this time one slip could cost everything that truly matters to her.

 

Warning—this title contains violence, adult language, ethical and moral dilemmas.

 

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Death of Heroes
:

 

He was on his way back to his office, enjoying the brief moment of peace, when Raven stepped out the shadows along his route. “Hey, Justice…we need to talk.”

ArchAngel shook his head as the vampire fell into step beside him. Though he looked older and larger than when he'd known him in his previous life, he still considered Raven to be one of his best friends. He trusted him like he trusted few others, and the vampire had yet to let him down. He'd done what no vampire should have been able to do—age. But, of course, that had been the unintended side effect of an evil weapon the immortal Odin had used on him. He'd gone from the apparent age of fifteen, the age he'd been when he'd been turned, to an adult in a matter of seconds. Where he'd once seemed but a callow youth, now he had all the bearing and sheer masculine beauty of a vid actor from back on old Earth.

As odd as ArchAngel's own life had been, he still found the change unsettling. He'd known Raven for years back on Earth, and the vampire had never changed even slightly. Now he was a completely different person. To look at, at least. Inside, he seemed to be the man ArchAngel remembered. That was a good thing.

“I really hate it when you appear out of nowhere like that,” he growled under his breath, knowing Raven would be able to hear him.

Remaining unseen was Raven's unique gift, his vampiric talent. The only one he'd received other than the ability to talk to dogs and other canines. ArchAngel
still
hated it when it was used on him.

Raven grinned over at him and offered a tiny shrug. “Eh—that's life, I guess.”

ArchAngel returned his grin. “So what's up?”

“I need a favor.”

“Of course you do. There's a lot of that going around today.”

Raven stopped in his tracks and slanted a dark look his direction. “What are you talking about?”

ArchAngel stopped and returned his gaze. “Quickfingers dropped by to see me earlier. Apparently Nyx has summoned and named another imp. As you can imagine, our little blue friend isn't all too happy about it. You know how he feels about his progeny.”

“I always thought that was one of Jaz's stories—you know how she likes needling the imp.”

ArchAngel shook his head. “Nope. It's for real. Quickfingers is afraid of those other imps. For whatever reason.”

“So what does he expect
you
to do about it?”

“Talk to the women. I get the feeling he's avoiding Jaz right now because he doesn't want to be around this other imp.”

“So you're—what? A glorified messenger service? A spirit mediator?”

ArchAngel shrugged, then smirked. “Something like that, I guess.” On a day like today, considering what he'd already done, he wasn't sure it wasn't in his job description any way he sliced it. Returning stolen kittens, restoring the intellects of broken men and helping an imp avoid his child. All in a day's work for the most powerful immortal who'd ever lived. If anything, this place would serve to keep him humble. “So what favor can I do for you?”

“It's nothing so strenuous, I'd say. Val wants to have a baby. She wants to have
our
baby. I'm figuring you might be able to do something about that.”

ArchAngel blinked at him, then started walking again. “Now I'm a one-man fertility clinic?” He knew he sounded a bit exasperated, but he couldn't help it.

“Hey, when you can bend reality, you should expect the occasional odd request from your friends.”

“I'm starting to,” the android replied. “But I'm really not sure I can bend reality that far. The only part of you that carries your original DNA is your brain, and even that's been modified by the virus. I could try to have Loki isolate a sample, but I'm not sure I can do what you ask even
if
we can get that far with it.”

“But it wouldn't hurt to try, would it?”

“Probably not.”

Raven had been married to Val for a few years now, since not long after they'd returned from Bryon's Earth, flush with a victory over an alternate version of ArchAngel's father and with an idea for several new agencies they wanted to push through the High Court. ArchAngel had backed their play then, not only because he was Raven's friend, but because he thought the other agencies were a good idea.

It hadn't made Athena happy, but, then again, he wasn't sure there was anything that could. Loki swore up and down she just needed a good screwing, but Loki was prone to saying things like that. Not even his formidable wife had been able to temper his penchant for being a smart-ass.

“Would it help if Loki had other DNA to compare mine to once he extracted it from my brain?”

“Maybe. What are you thinking?”

“Maybe my mom would be able to donate a little to use as a control.”

“That's not a bad idea. I suppose we can talk to Loki about it and see what he has to say.”

“Great!”

They emerged into the worldgate section after a few minutes of walking in companionable silence, both men lost in their own thoughts.

ArchAngel paused and turned to regard Raven. “I'm not sure where Loki's hanging out these days, but I'm sure I can find him. Why don't you track down your mother and see about getting a sample from her while I look for the Trickster?”

“Okay. I'll meet you back in your office in, say, two hours?”

“That'll work.”

They parted ways. Apparently Raven knew where to find his mother, since he headed off in a specific direction with no sign of hesitation. ArchAngel watched him go and sighed. Rachel Flynn would be easier to find than Loki, that was for sure. He hadn't
quite
been lying when he said he could find Loki, though it wouldn't necessarily be
easy
. Even with ArchAngel's considerable talents for manipulating probability, Loki could be hard to locate when he wanted to be. .