The Hero's Tomb by Conrad Mason Read Free Book Online Page B

demonspawn in all the Old World was crushed months ago, at the Crying Mountains. Victory is ours. Those few that still resist us are wretched creatures, scattered, pitiful and—’
    ‘I have no pity for demons.’
    They watch in silence as Morgan lumbers back towards them, bearing the deer on his shoulders. One of the braver huntsmen swipes a branch at the ogre’s feet, making him skip out of the way and stumble. The others snigger.
    ‘They say you have hunted demonspawn before, with your wyverns,’ says the Earl of Brindenheim, without looking at the Duke. ‘They say you round them up, set them loose in the forest and send the wyverns after them, as though they were animals.’ His eyesflicker towards the Duke, a moment of weakness. ‘Is it true?’
    ‘And what if it is?’
    Brindenheim shakes his head but says nothing. ‘In a few hours the Contest of Blades will begin,’ he says at last. ‘My son has been training hard.’
    ‘That is well.’
    Brindenheim’s whiskers tremble, as he finally loses his temper. ‘I know what you are implying, and I will not stand for it. You believe you are better than all of us, but—’ He checks himself and draws a deep breath. ‘We are here to celebrate Corin’s Day, and we are your guests. But remember, we are all equals in the League. My fellow lords are tired of war. Tired of your restlessness. We command all the wealth of the Old World – so why do you waste your time gazing across the ocean, seeking to capture Port Fayt?’
    ‘You are referring to the Battle of Illon.’
    ‘Indeed. You sailed without even discussing it with us, and see what happened: ships sunk and men lost in their hundreds in a petty squabble with the Fayters and the merfolk. All for the Middle Islands. A handful of rocks in the middle of the sea. Let them keep their little islets.’
    The Duke makes no reply. The Battle of Illon was never about the Middle Islands. There was a far greaterprize at stake. A prize won in secret, and brought back to Azurmouth. But, of course, Brindenheim knows nothing of that.
    The wyvern on his hunting glove screeches, impatient, and he feeds it another scrap of torn meat. Blood stains the creature’s snout, and he smears it away with a gloved finger.
    ‘Silence – very well then,’ says Brindenheim. ‘But be assured, I am not alone in these thoughts.’
    The Duke does not doubt it. Only the support of the other lords would give Brindenheim the courage to speak to him like this.
    The old walrus hesitates. ‘You’re planning something, aren’t you?’ he says finally. ‘I swear to you, whatever it is, I will find out.’

Chapter Six
    At first glance, the Azurmouth docks didn’t seem so different from the ones back home. Tabitha could see stalls flogging steamed lobsters, battered fish and pastries. She spotted beggars and pickpockets. Then she began to notice the dirty looks that dwarves, imps and ogres drew as they passed by.
    She tried to imagine Joseph stepping off the gangplank here, and it made her feel queasy.
    ‘What are we waiting for then?’ she said.
    ‘You’re right,’ said Hal. ‘Let’s find a harbourmaster, and fast.’
    The docks were bustling, but even so Tabitha felt exposed as the watchmen strode in among the crowds.The bundled-up trolls weren’t helping, of course. They were wrapped up in long cloaks, with scarves wound around their faces, despite the bright morning sunshine. Even Tabitha had hidden her blue hair with a bandana, swapped her watchman’s coat for a fisherman’s jerkin and covered up her shark tattoo.
    Not that it made much difference. Master Gurney had been right – no amount of clothing could hide how big and bulky the Bootle twins were. At least you can’t see their green skin . The thought made Tabitha feel ashamed, but it was the city’s fault. The longer she stayed in Azurmouth, the less she liked it.
    She quickened her pace, scouting out for the blue sash of a harbourmaster. The sooner they found one, the