Thraxas and the Ice Dragon
By
Martin Scott
Book nine in the Thraxas series
Thraxas and the Ice Dragon Copyright © Martin Scott 2013
This edition published 2013 by Martin Millar
The moral right of the author has been asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the copyright holder.
All characters in the publication are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
For more about Thraxas visit
www.martinmillar.com
www.thraxas.com
Cover Model - Madeline Rae Mason
Gambling Consultant - Robin Gibson
My thanks to to Peter Judge for his help.
eISBN: 9781626752719
Table of contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Introduction to Thraxas Book Nine
It's some years since the last Thraxas novel was published. He was last seen at the end of Thraxas Under Siege, leaving Turai in a small boat, in the company of Makri and Lisutaris. Neither of his companions were in the best of health, and it had taken a heroic effort by Thraxas to get them on board.
Since then, I've had many, many requests for another Thraxas book. For various reasons, not all involving laziness on my part, it's taken a while. But here, finally, is Thraxas and the Ice Dragon, in which Thraxas is in good form at the dining table, and Makri is very busy with her swords.
The nine Thraxas books so far are Thraxas, Thraxas and the Warrior Monks, Thraxas at the Races, Thraxas and the Elvish Isles, Thraxas and the Sorcerers, Thraxas and the Dance of Death, Thraxas at War, Thraxas under Siege, and Thraxas and the Ice Dragon. These will all be available soon as ebooks. I'm now planning a tenth novel.
Martin Millar
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Chapter One
We've been stuck on this tiny boat for eight days. We haven't seen land since we drifted away from the shores of Turai. It's rained almost continually and the waves keep threatening to overwhelm us. I'm cold, wet, and fed up with everything.
If you have to be stuck on a small boat in the middle of the ocean, Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, is not a bad companion. Her sorcery has at least kept us supplied with food. When Lisutaris snaps her fingers, fish just surrender. It saves a lot of messing around with fishing lines. She can purify water with another minor spell, so we won't die of thirst. Unfortunately, Lisutaris has no mastery over the ocean currents, and not enough power over the wind to be able to guide us back to the shore. We're drifting along, not knowing where, if anywhere, we're going to land.
The City of Turai was under siege. We'd hoped to hold out till help arrived, but we failed. Turai fell to the Orcs. Their Sorcerers nullified our defences and Lord Rezaz the Butcher smashed through the north wall with his Orcish army. I escaped in the chaos, bringing Lisutaris and Makri with me. Lisutaris has been depressed from the moment she got on board. She's head of the Sorcerers Guild and one of the strongest users of magic in the West. It was her responsibility to protect the city from Orcish sorcery and she failed. In her defence, she was struck down by illness; even so, she blames herself.
Makri, ex-gladiator and part-time barmaid, is an even less equitable companion. She's furious that she left the city without a fight. I think she actually blames me for rescuing her. The fact that Makri was so ill with the winter malady she was unable to walk, let along fight, doesn't prevent her from cursing herself for leaving Turai without striking a blow in its defence.
The boat's tiny cabins give scant protection from the cold winter rain, and we've been lurching alarmingly in the heavy swell. These seas are notoriously bad during the winter months and it's something of a miracle that we haven't been swallowed up by a storm. Our single sail is torn and ragged, making steering almost impossible, something which Makri has found occasion to complain about.
"Couldn't you have found a boat that was properly equipped?"
"You think I had time to hunt around for a better boat? If I hadn't got us out of there quickly we'd have been dead on the beach with a dragon picking our bones."
"Your bones maybe," says Makri. "I'd have gutted any dragon that came near me."
"You couldn't even walk."
"Well I can walk now," Makri retorts, and strides around the deck. "Can't you take us back?" she demands, turning to Lisutaris. "Work a spell or something?"
Lisutaris shrugs. She's already explained that while she can manipulate the weather to some degree, she doesn't have enough power over the wind to carry us back to land. None of us are much good as sailors. I've travelled the oceans in my time, but always as a soldier, never as a crewman. Makri has only ever made one voyage, to the Elvish Islands, and she was constantly sea-sick. As for Lisutaris, she's far more comfortable in the city. None of us have any bright ideas for escaping our predicament.
Chapter Two
The next day arrives, dull, overcast, and windless. I wake up shivering. I brought my magic warm cloak with me, but we've been sharing it. Lisutaris slept in it last night. I stride out onto the deck.
"I've had enough of this," I declare. "I'm as cold as a frozen pixie, not to mention wet as a mermaid's blanket. I'm stuck on a small boat with no beer, a depressed Sorcerer and an angry barbarian woman. I'm sick of it."
I look up at the sky, and offer up a prayer to whichever Gods might be watching in these parts.
"How about taking us back to land?"
Nothing happens. We remain becalmed. I start to feel annoyed, and shake my fist at the sky. "I demand you take this boat back to shore!"
Lisutaris arrives on deck and looks at me questioningly. "What are you doing?"
"I'm demanding that the Gods take us back to land."
"That's going to work," grunts the Sorcerer, and sits down wearily at the side of the boat. "I'll catch us some fish for breakfast."
"I don't want fish. I'm fed up with fish. I want beer and I want to get back ashore."
I start shaking my fist at the sky again. "Saint Quatinius? How about some help? We built statues of you all over Turai. Shouldn't you be doing something in return? I can't keep going on fish much longer. I need meat. And beer. A lot of beer."
We remain becalmed. I feel irritated at Saint Quatinius. As a patron saint he's really not much help. Makri appears from her cabin, shivering.