The Tiger of Mysore

By Jeff Hewitt

Beautiful and seductive, some know her as Lahkshmi. Adventurous and even deadly as well, many more know her as THE TIGER OF MYSORE. Harkening back to classic pulp fantasy, author Jeff Hewitt introduces an exciting new character in five stories replete with clashing swords, sea dwelling monsters, death defying action, cunning, humor, and much more. From giant spiders to cursed idols, from white dragons to magical pirates, from stolen artifacts to evil crime lords, Lahkshmi proves why she is known in the alleys and castles as THE TIGER OF MYSORE. FROM is a thrilling pulp adventure starring Lahkshmi, the titular character. This book contains 5 stories featuring sword fights, monsters from beyond the depths, death-defying action, cunning, humor, and much, much more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pro Se Press
• Release date: Mar 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370521517

Jeff Hewitt

Hopeful first-time indie author and currently a police dispatcher in South Eastern Tennessee. I live with my wife Megan and our two dogs Sophie and Beasly, who are a Pembroke Welsh Corgi and a wire-haired terrier, respectively.

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THE TIGER OF MYSORE

By

Jeff Hewitt

Published by Pro Se Press at Smashwords

THE TIGER OF MYSORE

A Pro Se Productions Publication

All rights reserved under U.S. and International copyright law. This book is licensed only for the private use of the purchaser. May not be copied, scanned, digitally reproduced, or printed for re-sale, may not be uploaded on shareware or free sites, or used in any other manner without the express written permission of the author and/or publisher. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Written by Jeff Hewitt

Editing by Greg Cabaniss & Tanner Bierdeman

Cover by Larry Nadolsky

Book Design by Antonino Lo Iacono & Marzia Marina

www.prose-press.com

THE TIGER OF MYSORE

Copyright © 2017 Jeff Hewitt

Table of Contents

Tightrope

In the Lair of the White Dragon

Idol Blasphemy

The Glass Sea

The Tiger of Mysore

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tightrope

A dark-skinned woman with a slight but strong build and long dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail stepped out of the open mouth of the cave and into the afternoon light.

Lahkshmi took a tentative step on the strip of webbing attached to the lip of the ledge that lead back into the caverns. It yielded somewhat, so she tested it with more of her weight. It refused to yield further. She lifted her foot. The web returned to its original form.

The alchemist was right. The web won't trap me.

Lahkshmi slid her foot back onto the web, leaned down, and wrapped her gloved hands around it. Despite the alchemist's concoction preventing her from sticking to the silken rope, she still had plenty of traction to climb.

Perhaps this will even be easy.

She wrapped both hands around the web and let her weight rotate her around, so that she could wrap her legs around the web as well. Empty alchemical bottles knocked together in her pack, and she gave quiet thanks to the cloth she’d wrapped around them. She looked down at the murky depths of the valley. It was hard to tell where the bottom was.

If there is one.

The valley was really more of a sharp ravine, cut narrow and deep into the landscape. The spider’s web stretched from each almost vertical side to the other, large enough to dwarf Lahkshmi and likely capture anything the size of a small house. Lahkshmi hoped that nothing that size saw her climb.

Lahkshmi climbed hand over hand, the rope sliding between her crossed feet, for about a hundred feet. She came across the first supporting strand, which was connected at a sharp angle to the rope she was climbing. Using the new strand, she pulled herself upright and stood. The web beneath her feet was taught, weaving forward and back only a little under her weight. She held onto the supporting strand and looked up, trying to discern the overall shape of the web.

The incredible structure soared high over her head, well into the shadows cast by the setting sun and the deep valley where it was spun. In the fading light she could just see a massive bulbous shape in the center of the web. Dread trickled into her guts, but she pushed the emotion away. It could only be the widow’s cross. Lahkshmi squinted. She could make out the four pairs of legs stretching out from the giant, silent body of the spider. A wind kicked up in the valley just then and the web moved with it, creaking and snapping like the sails of a monstrous ship. The web was woven with circular patterns, forming something of a bullseye where the widow’s cross waited. Giant strands of web zig-zagged from the center out.

‘You must avoid the woven sections in the center. They stretch out like the sails on a windmill. Even the cream I’ve given you won’t protect you.’

Lahkshmi bent her knees and sprang up, wrapping her hands around the web and climbing hand over hand. She rose in the air, and though she knew she’d climbed far, it seemed at times she was making no progress. She reached the next cross-strand. A freak gust of wind caught her as she was securing her feet and threatened to send her flying. Lahkshmi relaxed and let herself fall straight down, catching the cross-strand in her hands. The web sagged for a moment, and settled. Lahkshmi’s heart raced, but she looked not down, but up. The great spider had rotated in place and now faced Lahkshmi. Instead of the customary four pairs of legs, all eight were now spread out, each touching a separate strand of silk.

It’s listening.

Lahkshmi watched the beast, hardly breathing, for what seemed like hours. The spider turned after that deathly eternity and resumed its customary stance on the web. Lahkshmi’s arms were aching when she pulled herself up. She crouched for a few minutes to give her arms a rest. The wind in the deep ravine blew through the web. The silk vibrated as the wind strummed it like an instrument. A small part of Lahkshmi’s heart grew warm listening to the haunting music played by the giant web under the unseen but strong fingers of the wind.

Lahkshmi resumed her ascent. She wrapped her hands around the silk and shimmied up to the next cross piece. She was almost halfway up now. She climbed to the next cross strand. It had a gentle downward slope towards the center of the web. Lahkshmi held onto the vertical strand that formed the juncture and tried to judge the distance to the next vertical piece. A hundred feet at least, with nothing to hold onto.

Lahkshmi centered her feet and closed her eyes, seeking the place in her mind where no fears lived, where she could hear her thoughts and her thoughts alone, and the world around her did not exist. She took several deep breaths.

And then, a step.

The web held her, bowing slightly under her weight.

Lahkshmi opened her eyes, spread her arms out and took another step. The wind died down, as if waiting. Each step was careful, considered, placed with utmost care. The ravine blurred beyond her peripheral vision, and all that existed was a single bright line of white silk that stretched into the distance. Her legs and feet were not appendages but growths that sprung from the silk, as the branches of trees, as firm and steady as any oak.

A slight touch of wind brushed her cheek, but to Lahkshmi it was a distant sensation, as if someone was telling her about it. Lahkshmi was about halfway across when a noise broke her concentration. A noise that made a single bead of sweat glisten on her brow, and roll down her cheek. Wind in the trees.

A subtle roar built around her, and the world around her drew back into sharp focus as she lost control of her inner peace. Lahkshmi looked down at the dark void and her stomach, strong though it was, turned a little. She looked right, where the mouth of the ravine opened into the greater mountain range, and saw the trees there bending as if a great wave rushed over them. A powerful blast of wind, far stronger than the one that knocked her off the first time, was coming. Lahkshmi swallowed.

She bent her knees and wrapped her hands around the line. The wind struck her.

She was flung to the side, nearly vertical against the powerful wind. It tore at her clothes, the drag weighing them down ten times as much as the wind screamed past her. Lahkshmi’s eyes watered and the wind chilled her to the bone. Her right hand slipped and for a moment, a brief, heart-wrenching, gut heaving moment, all that stood between her and a fall of many hundreds of feet into the darkness was the strength of one hand.

Horrible, animal panic threatened to steal the rest of Lahkshmi’s wit and strength, but she shoved the gibbering fear away and grasped the line with her right hand. She threw her legs around it, closed her eyes, and waited for the gale to pass. Long moments passed as Lahkshmi repeated calming mantras in her mind, oblivious to the raging wind around her. The music the web made with the wind had become a demonic howl, which she shut out with all her will. When all finally grew still, she opened her eyes.

The spider stood over her, its legs spread to touch eight different strands of silk. The web bowed beneath her weight, yet the monstrous spider seemed to be as light as a whisper. The bulk of the horrible creature’s body was centered above her, giving Lahkshmi an excellent view of its crushing mandibles and wicked black fangs. Stiff hairs as long as Lahkshmi’s leg