Spear of Destiny James Baldwin (free romance novels .TXT) 📖

over the place, and I’ll feed them tidbits from my kills, and… and… it’ll be great!”

“Then make cute little omelets out of them,” he replied. “Put faces on the omelets if you want. Na-tsho schrodna, I don’t know what we’re going to do if the little goblins turn out like their mother.”

“We convince Suri to sell them to Taethawn, and he reaps the wild oats his bull has sown,” Istvan said sourly.

“Hah. We shall see.” Vash relit his pipe, ruefully shaking his head.

“Were you able to bring anything else back from the dragon burial grounds?” I asked him, still working on my food. “Istvan said that we’d be taking the next round of recoveries slowly.”

“Yes, there is still an incredible number of valuable goods down in that holy place,” Vash said. “The goods in that place are probably worth another million olbia, but unlike the gold, they are inextricably bound with the bodies of the dead. Removing them requires a process of delicate retrieval, then reinternment. We also cannot gauge the uses or powers imbued in many of the artifacts there. Sadly for us, many of our archeologists and historical antiques experts died in the war. Once the university is open and staffed, they will be able to process these goods… and who knows what we’ll find. I saw armor, weapons, and jewelry as grand as anything in the Volod’s vault. It might take a year to properly assess the value of the goods. Those which embody the art of Karalti’s people are likely priceless, and could not be traded by anyone of good character.”

“Anything of historical significance, we preserve,” I said. “Karalti and any other dragons who eventually join us get as much say in that as they want. As for the university...”

I held up a finger, went into the KMS, and lined up the restoration: 168,000 olbia, committed without hesitation or regret.

[You are pledging to construct the University of Karhad. Are you sure you wish to proceed?]

“Yes.” I closed the confirmation and smiled. “There, done. The university is next on the building queue. Give it a month, and it’ll be back in good shape. Until then, we can store those valuables in the castle.”

“We should have room.” Istvan nodded, and—with a sly glance at me—began to use his knife and fork on his khachapuri.

Vash grunted. “A wise decision. The Vault of Heroes is vulnerable to thieves and plunderers. We are managing to keep it quiet thus far, but it’s a matter of time until someone realizes there is an ossuary full of dead dragons and their treasure barely a hundred miles north of here. We will have to defend the hoard from all comers if word gets out.”

“Tell me about it.” I regarded him for a moment, chewing thoughtfully before speaking. “Do you feel ready to go south tonight? Or do you want to do it in the morning? Karalti and I leveled up in Meewhome, so we’re ready when you are.”

“Already? Well.” The Baru set his feet down, thumping his heavy steel-toed boots to the floorboards. “I’ve been ready to go back to Tastalgan for thirty years, Herald. Finish up and meet me in the courtyard. I must commune with my god, and then I’ll be ready to fly.”

Chapter 50

The terrain in the far south of Myszno was nothing short of forbidding. The entire province was ringed by mountains, but none as awe-inspiring and severe as the Kuday Range, the mini-Himalaya that separated Vlachia from the northern border of Napath. This range was why Ashur had been able to take Vlachia by surprise: It hadn’t occurred to anyone that an army—even an army of undead—could make the trek from the other side of those mountains and survive.

“I am struggling to make sense of why there are Tuun entombed with the dragons in Krivan Pass,” Vash said, helping me into a thick [Tuun Sherpa Coat]. It was made of camel hide with the wool turned inward, conveying an Insulation Buff that would keep us warm in the severe weather of the Kudays. “The Tuun of Myszno have only been here for a few generations. We came here as miners and farmers.”

“Why here, though?” I frowned, looking thoughtfully to the sky. The Dark Star was glinting over the moon to the south. Veles’ Dragon Gate: Archemi’s first and only satellite.

“My guess is that we ascertained the location of Burna’s resting place, and desired to live in a holy land. The Tuun of Myszno universally hold Burna in high regard, placing him over Tangur and the other two Heavenly Kings.”

Tangur was the Tuun god of the sky, and the most important deity in my fictional homeland. He didn’t have a personification—he was literally the sky, the big blue dome over our heads, and ‘tangur’ was also the Tuun word for ‘daylight’. Faceless, omnipresent and infinitely wise, he was the father and ruler of the Three Heavenly Kings: Burna, Dashin, and Vajra. “Putting Burna over Tangur? That’s about as close to heresy as you get in Tungaant, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. If for no other reason that the abbots of Tempat Sonn don’t like it when their subjects think for themselves.” Vash clapped the front of my coat. “There we go. That should do. You and I are both are hardened against the weather, but it’s cold enough to freeze the tits off a demon at those altitudes this time of the year.”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll keep you warm if I have to. The cold doesn’t bother me, as long as I can eat.” Karalti preened under her wing as we climbed a rope up to her back, and then pulled it up behind us. We had taken all the trekking gear we had in case we needed to make a camp somewhere. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

I made sure my scarf was folded and tucked in, pulled my helmet