The Heroic Legends Series - Conan: The Shadow of Vengeance

Book 0: Heroic Legends

by Scott Oden

Genres: Fantasy; Fantasy action & adventure; Fantasy Anthologies & Collections

Synopsis

Capturing the electric short fiction energy that led Robert E. Howard to be one of the top fantasy writers of the century, with exclusive serialized eBook stories starring Conan, Solomon Kane, and more by many of today’s top writers in fantasy and sword-and-sorcery.

“Conan: The Shadow of Vengeance” is an intended follow-up to “The Devil in Iron.” A classic sword and sorcery tale by Robert E. Howard himself.

In far eastern Turan, the regent of Khawarzim seeks bloody revenge. To achieve it, Ghaznavi is willing to strike a bargain with Karash Khan, the master of the Nine—acolytes of the god of Death, their powers and ruthlessness are spoken of only in whispers.The object of Ghaznavi's hatred rides at the head of a score of Zaporoskan kozaks, bandits formed from fleeing criminals, escaped slaves, and deserting soldiers. Men of many crimes and countries. Their leader is accompanied by Octavia, a statuesque royal from Nemedia whose devotion to him is without question. The object of Ghaznavi’s burning hatred is Conan of Cimmeria.

Release date: January 30, 2024

Publisher: Titan Books

Print pages: 78

Sample

Ghaznavi, regent of Khawarizm and the one-time chief counselor to its dead lord, Jehungir Agha, laid aside the parchment scroll and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. Another petition. Another beggar’s lament couched in ornate lettering, from a local grandee whose pride of birth could not hide his dearth of accomplishments. A dozen such appeals cluttered the regent’s work table, all of them wrought by desperate men trying to improve their state of affairs before the new lord of the city arrived.

If he arrives.

The old regent reached for a goblet of wine, glancing out the shuttered window as silvery jags of lightning stitched across the heavens; thunder followed on its heels, strong enough to rattle the soot-blackened chimney of his oil lamp. With the fall of night had come one of the many violent storms that plagued the Vilayet during winter, bearing upon it the icy breath of the far Himelians. He doubted the royal cousin who was Khawarizm’s new lord would brave the weather to take up the Agha’s mantle before spring—and the courtiers knew it, too. Hence their flurry of petitions.

“Make old Ghaznavi decide it,” he muttered aloud to himself, smoothing his gray-shot beard. “Then old Ghaznavi can weather our new lord’s displeasure at being surrounded by so many newly-emboldened incompetents.” Ghaznavi gave a short, sardonic laugh. He drained his goblet, and then leaned back in his chair with a sigh. The sweet wine of Kyros; it fortified him when nothing else could. He reached for the decanter, found it empty, and was on the verge of calling for a slave to fetch more when a savage gust of wind burst open the shuttered windows.

The howling gale snatched the petitions from the regent’s work table as easily as it snatched the flames from the candles in their sconces; even the oil lamp guttered and died, plunging the study into darkness. Cursing and grumbling under his breath, the old counselor clambered to his feet and moved to close the shutters. The wind plucked at his robes. It bore the tang of salt, and it drove sharp pellets of rain before it. Lightning burned white and brief across the nighted skies above Khawarizm.

Ghaznavi latched the shutters and cuffed moisture from his cheek with the sleeve of his robe. He made his way back to the work table. There, he fumbled among the riot of scroll weights, quills, ink bottles, waxed boards, and ivory styli until he found flint and steel. ...