The Beast Slayer

By Rin Sparrow

The battle between Good and Evil has just begun...
As a straight-spoken man of Truth, Warrior Wulf has been honored by his people and Blessed by God. And though he has faith in his skills as a fighter, he is no diplomat. When he is requested to enter King Hrothgar's lands to battle the Beast Grendel, he finds the unfamiliar, licentious court a greater challenge than the Demon.
Now, burdened with a heart in mourning and an unwanted bed slave, he will face a new menace: a voice from the shadows enspelling and seducing him toward his doom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rin Sparrow
• Release date: Apr 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370097807

Rin Sparrow

Growing up in the 'burbs of Chicago, Rin was always busy drawing, reading, and writing. It wasn't until she finished her degree at DePaul University (in Religious Studies of all things!) and headed to Japan to teach English, that she began writing and publishing her works online. It also began a love of travel that has grown deep into her bones. Though she's focused her writing within the m/m and yaoi genres, she's working on some sci-fi stories and her art is manga yet not necessarily yaoi-inspired. You can find more of her works, pics of travel, and how she's coping with modern life in the US at her Facebook page or Twitter.After Japan, the Philippines. Wisconsin, and San Francisco, she currently can be found in Durham, NC. When not writing, she can be found painting, re-reading Lord of the Rings, or being badgered by her cats to play or snuggle!

Book preview

The Beast Slayer

by Rin Sparrow

The Beast Slayer

By Rin Sparrow

Published by Yaoifix.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

Beta: Corelle

Formatted by Indigo Chick

Cover illustration by Yayoi Neko. Cover design by Rin Sparrow

This book is a work of fiction and as such all characters and situations are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

Copyright © 2017 by Erin Prendergast

Kindle edition December 2017

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Dedicated to everyone who is reading and to all the members of Yaoifix.com who make my writing possible!

Table of Contents

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 1

In the Twelfth Year of our King Onela

My dear Edgetho,

You will be pleased to hear that I crossed the sea safely and arrived today at Herot. King Hrothgar has graciously received me. It seems his concerns over the Beast have not been exaggerated. The court is nearly empty, and those that remain do so out of loyalty or necessity. The Beast has driven all others from the area, and the air is heavy with the stench of fear and death. It is much as I have experienced in my other travels when a demon has set itself upon the land, and yet something about this venture leaves me with a feeling of foreboding. I do not know this kingdom well, and have no foreknowledge as to how the Beast was awoken. Surely I will discover it in time, but something must be done swiftly to stem the tide of dread that has gripped this place.

This evening a banquet is to be held in my honor, the king has insisted upon it. Mayhap it will cheer the people, but if the accounts are true, it may also anger the Beast. The king has already informed me that several attacks occurred during such merriment. It is not surprising, since loud voices often draw a predator’s attention, and men who drink will oft stumble into places they should not. We shall see. I will not leave my guard down in any case, and in fact I rather hope the Beast will show itself. I am eager to see the monster that has instilled such legend in so short a time. It may be my greatest conquest yet.

I will be proud when I can call myself the slayer of the Beast Grendel.

Yours in Respect and Friendship,

-Wulf

After powdering the ink, I folded the letter then tucked it neatly into the envelope. How long would it take to reach him? I plucked up the stick of wax resting on the writing table and held it in the flame. Slowly, the wax dripped onto the envelope, blood red circles against the pristine white of the paper. I pressed the seal of my ring into the hot wax and examined the impression of my family crest left behind. Everything I did, I did to honor my family and my people. Or so I told myself. I will openly admit the sin of pride on occasion, and I find no harm in it. I am proud to defend others, to clear their land of evil and strife.

It would be the same here.

Of that, I was confident. Why should this Beast be any different from the rest, after all? I had ventured in the ocean and slain monsters men have no name for, I had faced and defeated giants. I knew my strength and skill and need not boast it. Though, at the start of my life, I had not striven for it.

Slipping the signet ring but on my finger, I then checked my baggage and prepared my gear. I glanced at the ring, the weight of it still foreign even after years.

I had not been born noble, had not been born a Warrior. As a young man, this life had simply found me, but I had revealed in it since, and if some losses had found me recently, I would not bow to them. It was natural I should feel a heavier load with this mission. After all, I was alone.

Brecca.

I sighed. Time had passed, but still I mourned him, and his loss put a shadow over my heart. I had not wished to leave my countrymen, and their support, behind—at this time more than ever—yet where duty calls, I must go.

A knock at the door sometime later alerted me it was time for the banquet. The servant blinked up at me with wide owl eyes as he greeted me.

T-this way, sire.

I hid a smirk. He was shorter than me by a foot and I had to be several stones heavier. It was not boasting to admit my prowess. Physical strength was necessary for a Warrior. The wide breadth of shoulders, the sizeable bands of arms and thighs, the wide hands with unshakable grip: they were my tools as much as armor and blade.

My bulk intimidated most men, and by now I was used to that reaction. In my home country it was easier; my reputation was known and kept servants from being quite so caught off guard as the one leading me to the hall.

Ah! And here he is! The Warrior we’ve been waiting for! King Hrothgar called upon my entry. The eyes of those gathered turned to me, and though I was accustomed to scrutiny, I did not enjoy it.

I faced a wide hall with long, polished tables of fine dark wood, floors of stone and a dais of marble. At the moment the throne sat empty, and the king stood from his table at the front of the hall. He waved me forward and dismissed the servant, who bowed to the ground and left us.

You wear armor to a feast? Hrothgar asked, eyes wide.

When a Beast is loose? Yes. Though, in fact, I was merely wearing leathers, not metal armor. Many places I’d visited expected I’d wear chain mail to dinner. The Beast has attacked during such feasts, has it not?

She has, but now you are here.

She?

Monstrosity though Grendel is, my men can still tell when parts are missing, Hrothgar chuckled. I frowned at his light manner, but he did not heed it and went on. Surely, we needn’t fear with you here to protect us. More importantly, I will not have my people put aside all joy because of this creature. We have been in darkness long enough—tonight we are thankful!

I refrained from pointing out that it was highly appropriate I be wearing protective gear if the King and everyone in the hall was relying on me to defend them. Instead, I gave a nod and Hrothgar motioned me to a seat at his table. Several others shared his table as well. Beside him was his queen—I had not heard much of her, but she looked the part well enough: regal, sharp-eyed, and bejeweled. I bowed low, as I had done with Hrothgar, and received a polite smile.

The king sat without giving introductions and I took my own chair, placed between what appeared to be noblemen or dignitaries. Men I had nothing in common with, for certain.

The food was good, but I spared little attention to the meal. I’d not had much time to circle the grounds or the hall itself. Hrothgar had told me they’d recently put up new iron gates to bar the fortress, but I doubted they would hold. I did my best from my vantage point to assess the entryways, where the servants came to and from with food or entertainments. Herot was not an easy space to defend, especially when so crowded.

Evidently the court was not quite as depleted as I’d been told. But perhaps it was simply that everyone had stayed in the keep during the past days of terror, sequestered to their rooms rather than going farther afield for safety.

I took in the feasting, the frolicking, the drunkenness around me and sighed. The King’s definition of ‘joy’ looked a lot like hedonism. Servants—male and female—were groped and taken to corners where nobles were all but outright copulating with them. It was hardly rare for nobility to take such privileges, but I’d never seen these acts done with such blatant, wanton openness. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. In times of death and darkness most people—noble or common—took pleasure in the flesh for solace. It was not such a crime. Yet, I found the wine in my mouth grow sour at the sight.

You hide little in your gaze, Warrior Wulf.

I startled and glanced at my neighbor to my left, furthest from the King.

Pardon?

He grinned. It was not unfriendly, but I could see in his eyes that very little escaped his notice. I’d known such men before and they were rarely to be trusted.

You need not looked abashed. I doubt anyone else noticed your condemnation.

I have said nothing.

He leaned back in his chair, signaling for more wine, and tilted his head as he studied me. You don’t have to, my friend.

We are friends now, are we?

I hope so. He took a sip, still assessing me with those knowing eyes. We could both use one here, I would wager.

I don’t make wagers.

No, I doubt you do.

I met his eyes and took my own time to examine him. His clothes, which appeared typical at first glance, had odd accents. Not scribes robes, nor monks’ attire, but not simple breeches and tunic either. His loose, billowy tunic draped over leggings and pulled tight into sleeves along his arms. Then I looked at his face. Of course his clothing was different. His skin was dark and his hair black as a raven’s wing with tight curls.

You’re a foreigner.

He arched a brow. You’re surprised?

Perhaps to find you here, yes.

I’m a diplomat. An emissary, if you will.

Then your stay here is short?

Originally, but in fact I have been here nearly a year. He kept his voice low, though with the cacophony of the hall and the fact we were at the end of the table, no one was likely to hear. The king enjoys having his foreign pet at the table.

Is that what you are then?

It pleases him to think so.

What pleases you? My words came out completely wrong. I wasn’t used to this double-speak. I mean... I didn’t—

He waved me off lightly. I know the intention behind the words and, yes, I have my own reasons for allowing Hrothgar to keep me here. I will not speak of that here and now, however.

I took a bite of roasted lamb and tried to bring my attention back to where it should be—I’d allowed myself to get distracted.

Do political matters bore you?

I didn’t turn to him. I have my own matters here to deal with.

Indeed.

Something in just the one word that implied he was not through with the discussion. I turned back to him and tried not to sigh. If there is something you want to say, be done with it.

You’re a direct man.

I don’t have time for double-speak.

I watched him take a breath and let it go. His manner changed then, like a man taking off a cloak. He nodded.

I meant no offense, he said. His voice had lost its dulcet tones. I felt some of the tension ease from me. I will be straight-faced with you. Forgive me for dancing about. It’s what I’m used to. Words can be used as sure as arrows in the realm of politics.

I didn’t doubt it.

We don’t know one another yet, but if you are required to spend any time here, I would simply tell you to be wary.

I frowned. Why?

Because you think the only interloper in the kingdom is Grendel.

This caught me off guard. What has that to do with me? I am here for a clear mission. Then I will be gone.

Those dark eyes looked me over, and he seemed to come to a decision. He nodded. Very well. But I meant it when I said I hoped us to be friends. Truly, we are both outsiders here.

Taking a glance at the hall, I had to admit he was correct. But before I could reply to him, the king stood.

Is Barid talking you to death? Hrothgar said with a laugh as he approached us. I’ve got something better for entertainment.

He motioned a slave forward and the boy quickly dropped to his knees, forehead to the floor.

You may stand, boy. Hrothgar patted his shoulder and looked to me with a grin. He’s yours, for as long as you are with us.

My mouth went dry. Of course slaves had been offered in thanks elsewhere, but Brecca had always been there. We’d shared them or he’d made the proper excuses and we’d made camp outside the fortress walls, the better to hunt.

I could make the same excuse, but my words failed me. The situation seemed different now. Perhaps it was merely that the offer highlighted my singular state, but it rattled me, who is never thrown, and I could think of nothing to say.

To refuse a gift could be taken as rude, even insolent. In my pause, the boy dropped his eyes and I winced inwardly. This had nothing to do with him.

Does he please you? Hrothgar asked, still smiling.

Helpless, I gave a nod. Yes, of course.

If I didn’t take the boy, I told myself, someone else would.

No, not a boy, I noted as he lifted his head. His shoulders were wide enough and he had sufficient muscle to show he was in his bloom, not before it. Though he held himself like a boy still. He also had a shock of deep brown hair, the only head among the crowd—besides my own deep red locks—that was not the pale gold of hay. Though, I noted, he did have those odd, pale eyes of this region. Curious.

Here, let me show him off. We picked him just for you.

The king slipped the loose tunic down past the young man’s shoulders and tugged to expose his chest.

He has lovely skin and some muscle on him, as we’d heard you preferred with your boys.

I didn’t prefer boys at all. Warriors. Men. Comrades. Those were the men with whom I shared my bed.

I nodded, and Hrothgar tugged the cloth back up, then turned the young man around and lifted his skirt.

A beautiful backside as well, which I’m sure you’ll be able to take ample advantage of later. He spun him back around and gave the boy’s ass a smack to send him toward me. He jumped, the skittish little thing, and I caught him before he stumbled. Those large ice-blue eyes met mine, and his cheeks flushed before he remembered to look away. Wary, perhaps, but there was no fear in his gaze.

Still, what the hell was I supposed to do with him?

So stoic before such beauty, Warrior Wulf, said a voice from the table. I looked over to see a wiry man with creases over his face from what I assumed was his permanently sour disposition. His hands looked long and soft and clean; not a man of labor then, not even a scholar. I helped His Majesty choose your trinket, I do hope you approve.

I gave a nod. He smirked as the king’s attention wandered elsewhere and went on, I’ve heard tales of your conquests, oh Warrior, but your strength failed during the crossing of Bronding’s Passage, did it not? I pray your strength remains strong enough to conquer our Grendel.

A snake, this one, with a forked tongue and all.

I have not gotten your name, my lord.

Lord Unferth, he offered, with a barely polite incline of the head. I’d known men like him—men who made others do their bidding, men who kept their hands clean and smiled when they stabbed others in the dark. False, to the core.

My Lord, it was not strength that failed me, I began, straining to keep my voice level with this roach. "Eight monsters of