The Heroic Legends Series - Solomon Kane: The Banquet of Souls E-Book

Steven Savile

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: The Heroic Legends Series
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 52

Beschreibung

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. Created by the author responsible for Conan of Cimmeria, Solomon Kane is "a man born out of his time—a strange blending of Puritan and cavalier, with a touch of the ancient philosopher, and more than a touch of the pagan… a knight errant in the somber clothes of the fanatic. A hunger in his soul drove him on and on, an urge to right all wrongs, protect all weaker things, avenge all crimes against right and justice."—Robert E. Howard, "The Moon of Skulls" Caught aboard a ship destroyed in a terrible storm, Solomon Kane is the only survivor left clinging to the wreckage—and to life. Washed up on a stony beach, he is found by a young woman of the Hotu clan, who brings him back to their fortress in Odawara. While recovering, he discovers sigils and marks designed to protect the clan against demons aligned with the Hideyoshi daimyo. Intent on wiping out any who would resist his rule, the daimyo's creatures have spread horror across the islands. The evils they have perpetrated are ungodly, there may only be one man who can put an end to this terror.

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Leave us a Review

Copyright

Solomon Kane: The Banquet of Souls

About the Author

THE BANQUET OF SOULS

STEVEN SAVILE

LEAVE US A REVIEW

We hope you enjoy this book – if you did we would really appreciate it if you can write a short review. Your ratings really make a difference for the authors, helping the books you love reach more people.

You can rate this book, or leave a short review here:

Amazon.com,

Amazon.co.uk,

Goodreads,

Barnes & Noble,

or your preferred retailer.

SOLOMON KANE: THE BANQUET OF SOULS

E-book edition ISBN: 9781803366494

Published by Titan Books

A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd

144 Southwark St, London SE1 0UP

www.titanbooks.com

First edition: June 2024

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental.

© 2024 Robert E. Howard Properties LLC (“REHP”). SOLOMON KANE, ROBERT E. HOWARD, and related logos, names and character likenesses thereof are trademarks or registered trademarks of REHP. Heroic Signatures is a trademark of Cabinet Licensing LLC.

Steven Savile asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

SOLOMONKANE: THEBANQUETOF SOULS

STEVEN SAVILE

The gaunt English Puritan stood with his back to the toiling sailors and gazed out to sea. Long, fine-boned fingers grasped the rail, lingering over some of the more elaborate carvings the midshipmen had whittled into the wood with no small degree of skill. There were all manner of gargoyles and monsters trapped by their hand, most forgotten by man, others that had never breathed with life in the first place. It was fascinating what the minds of men could conjure when they went weeks and months bound to the ocean.

Above him, the lookout cried a warning. Solomon Kane turned his attention to the sky.

A storm unlike any they’d faced in these long weeks at sea was brewing around them. From horizon to horizon, the sky was all shades of black and purple and the fine hues in between.

Behind him, the ugly-faced captain bellowed.

“We sail through it!” he shouted with the kind of stubbornness that would damn them all. It wasn’t as if they had a choice, though. The stormfront stretched as far as the eye could see. All they could do was plunge into the heart of it and trust that their Heavenly Father watched over them.

Kane pulled his slouch hat low against the wind and drew his black travel cloak tight around his shoulders as the sea spray foamed up over the railing. There were no adornments on his clothes—no silver buckles, no bright buttons or brocade. Like the man himself, his clothing was austere. He wore a blade at his waist, an unadorned rapier. Tucked into his belt there were two heavy pistols, and powder and shot pouches.

The man was a warrior.

The sea roiled and churned, crashing against the hull.

He did not flinch in the face of the raw elemental rage of the ocean, but rather let it wash around him. Beneath him, the waves chopped up white against the wooden timbers, while the planks, beams, and bows of the ship groaned as their seams strained. The raw elemental power of the sea was too much for the ship to withstand for long.

Kane was cold to the soul.

The boy they called Weasel scrambled down the mainline and dropped easily to the deck, grinning at Kane before he dashed off toward the stern. He moved with the surefooted nimbleness of one born to the water, ducking under taut guidelines and stepping over the coils of rope nesting on the main deck as spume and spray sloshed over the sides. He said something to the captain, who set his features defiantly and crossed his enormous ham-hock arms across his barrel chest. Rivulets—and perhaps tears—ran down the tattoo beneath his wiry black hair as the sky rained down.

Sails snapped, billowing to seam-tearing extremes. Ropes strained against their moorings. From all angles the stresses on the ship intensified. The Puritan felt the fight beneath his feet. She couldn’t hold.

The deck lurched beneath his feet. He moved with it, his attention fixed on the ominous blackness thickening all around them. The heavens harbored grim intentions. He began to recite the opening stanza of a favorite prayer, trusting the Almighty to hear and protect the ship carrying them toward the shore. His work was not yet done.

The bowsprit aimed into the heart of the storm.

The ship cut through the raging sea.

The stinging spray from the battering waves soaked him again. Behind him, the captain of this not-so-fine vessel barked fresh orders at his crew to cut the lines and furl the sails. Kane heard the main mast groan in protest, where the strain of the savage winds threatened to uproot it. He turned his attention to the vessel’s master.

“This is a mistake,” Kane told the man of the seas, speaking loudly to be heard over the din. That just earned him a grunt, yet he knew what manner of fight this was. “There are some fights you cannot win, only hope to survive.”

“If you’re lacking the stomach for it, strap yourself to the mast, man,” the captain replied. “There’s no way around the storm, unless that god of yours can work miracles, and we aren’t outrunning the sea devils, so I suggest you shut up and do your best not to get swept overboard.”

Men crawled across the rigging, battling the elements to save the sails.