Age of Conan: Dawn of the Ice Bear: Dawn of the Ice Bear by Jeff Mariotte

By Jeff Mariotte

The younger Pictish warrior Kral, aided through his unswerving cadre of neighbors, sails to the sinister and unsafe realm of Stygia, at the path of the stolen holy relic that may retailer his people—the the teeth of the Ice undergo. but even after enduring perils past their darkest goals, they locate that a part of their prize is missing—stolen via the duplicitous warrior-thief, Conor.

Journeying into the center of the Cimmerian barren region within the lifeless of wintry weather, Kral and his partners look for their traitorous former comrade at the same time the enraged Picts salary a determined, doomed struggle opposed to the good King Conan himself.

Beset by way of enemies on all fronts, Kral needs to struggle for ownership of teeth of the Ice endure if he's to save lots of his humans from utter annihilation, and declare a future he by no means may have dreamed of…

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As far as he could see, at the very edges of the lantern’s reach, nothing but more emptiness waited. The grade rose. He was going up, very slightly. The open places above him where the bricks had come away did not show any sky be­ cause they were covered by earth. The echoes of the small sounds in the tunnel became more smothered and close. Zeke had expected it, but it made him more uncomfortable than he would’ve thought. He knew that the geography jerked up away from the coast, and that the exposed tunnel wormed a path underneath the city proper.

It would have driven him mad,” she speculated curtly. ” “Because he believed in the law,” she said. “Is that all you got? ” “But he was fair. Don’t you get it? The boys and girls on the street who sell the septic sacks and run ’em, and the thieves, the whores, and the broke and the busted—all of ’em down here who know the hard way how life ain’t fair . . ” Briar interrogated Rector on the finer points of Zeke’s escape. By the time a larger priest and a greater number of nuns showed up to bully Briar out of the stairwell, she’d learned plenty—none of it reas­ suring, and all of it leading to one terrifying fact.

It smelled funny. She’d been holding it for half a minute before she noticed, and anyway, the smell was so familiar it almost went un­ remarked. She held the scrap of paper up to her face and sniffed it hard. It might only be her imagination. There was one good way to find out. Cherie Priest 50 • • • • • • • • • • • • Down the hall and into her own room she dashed, and she dug around in her tall, creaky wardrobe until she found it—a fragment of lens left over from the early days, the bad old days .

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