Sapphire of Sultry Slaughter

By Jonathan Evan Hudson

One deadly dragon. Check.

A horde of ruthless monster minions. Check.

And one sapphire to doom the world. Checkmate.

Unless one wizard warrior saves the day: Jake Dragonslayer.

A superb sword-and-sorcery tale that only the acclaimed Jonathan Evan Hudson could imagine. Savor the spellbinding action and riveting adventure of this stunning  novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Swordpulp Studios
• Release date: Jan 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393152705

Jonathan Evan Hudson

Widely traveled, Jonathan Evan Hudson spends as much time studying life as he does writing gripping tales of fantastic adventures. From the giant redwoods of California to the deserts of Israel, his thrilling stories all draw on first-hand experiences and expand them with the fantastic and his acclaimed creativity.

Book preview

Chapter

One

JAKE DRAGONSLAYER

Finally!

The lake winding through the cave was like a mirror Jake dare not break or else seven years of bad luck would no doubt come crashing down on him all at once in the form of a massive deadly orc ambush.

But no worries.

Just listen to that gentle flicker and snap of torches. It would of lessened a lesser man’s guard but not his.

And that nice bite of pine burning away?

Ah!

It just reminded him of the pine needle tea that scrawny old fart of a wizard, Master Merlo of Snow, loved having every morning.

And that refreshing zing of burnt tar? Just like the regular old-fashioned torches Wizard Merlo insisted over and over again that Jake use regularly to remind him of the blessings of magic.

Never mind Jake was already a Rank A wizard. He didn’t even need a conduit for such a simple and weak a bulb orb spell yet …

Don’t risk the (stupid) risk of it.

(As minor as they were.)

So despite the obvious trap, Jake could practically dance to the rumble of torchlight here and there. It was like a song that scratched a hard to reach itch, the kind of itch only the right tune could satisfy.

(Or the right girl.)

((Thank the Light there weren’t any cute temptresses of the Hateful Darkness nearby. Sure, his weakness for beautiful women would only be solved with (one day) finding a girlfriend, or at least dating a few beauties, but so what? Same for any guy outside of a few lucky assholes. Especially a dateless guy like him.))

(((Dateless because too busy. Really.)))

The cave itself, well, it was like a gap in the clouds on a rainy day and boy, did Jake have enough of rainy days for a lifetime.

No.

A few lifetimes.

(But teleportation spells … can’t live with them, don’t want to live without them. Ever. Sheesh. The journey here otherwise … if he could find were here was … but he trusted Wizard Merlo got the transportation spell right, or else the return trip … yikes. Don’t want to worry about it.)

((Yet.))

So, okay, Jake didn’t really mind that the cave was as gray and smooth as the foggiest clouds. The rock was still as hard as his own lean and mean body, lean and mean from his old man’s intense physical training, since, a man should be able to rely on his own strength, and magic, a fall back, when necessary, or so on.

Still, before Jake got teleported here, Wizard Merlo had stayed perfectly dry in the rains, while Jake was soaked through. His boots were more like suede socks yet they let him feel the ground beneath his feet perfectly.

His old man, a true dragon slayer and one of the few left, provided Jake with the best dragon scale a son like him could get, and dragon scale could deflect most blades and magic, so no worries about this adventure. His dark blue dragon scale slacks protected his legs, and his zircon blue dragon scale jerkin, one with a dark blue cowl and mouth cloth all of dragon scale too, protected his head and torso.

But no gloves. They’d interfere with his magic.

Still, it was colder than a vixen witch’s heart in here, and these caves would soon get twistier than the braided rope in his trusty teardrop of a pouch.

Least it was magicked to hold several times its size and weight without showing it in the slightest.

It held more than several seven-chamber cylinders of bolts for his trusty bolt slinger revolver holstered to his left. Those bolts didn’t need magic to punch through steel armor, but only a few dozen feet away at best.

So perfect here of all places.

Strapped to his right, by his trusty teardrop pouch, was what looked like a blade of the whitest of spiraled ivory, but the rainbow of gemstones in its pommel, and how mist swirled within each gemstone showing each was a high class magical stone, ha!

A sword staff.

Both a conduit for serious magic, and all five elements too, so Jake could easily alternate between elements and negate the backlash of casting one element with another element, yet there was enough variety not to be utterly predictable.

On top of that, it was a blade to back up the strength his old man trained him to have.

Best of all, it wasn’t ivory. It was alicorn. Yes, the very best anti-Dark material.

(Far better than that common bicorn every hedge knight obsessed over.)

So those orcs, they don’t stand a chance.

He’d retrieve the Sapphire of Sultry Slaughter. Stop them before they summon, no, revive the Darkest Seventh, a the most wicked and powerful witch of the seven Chosen of the Dark. Last Chosen Cycles, supposedly, only the 12 Chosen of the Light combined could defeat her, and same if she popped up again. Which can only happen when the next Chosen Cycle happened, which hopefully was a long way off.

It’s the perfect mission for a Rank A+ wizard like Jake to prove himself. Maybe even awaken to the next rank, rank S, a rank very few wizards ever reach, and in magical battle and magic in general, rank mattered more than numbers, and …

Okay okay, his old man taught him better than to tempt fate.

More like pounded it into him.

Painfully — ACK!

Worse than that stab to the back.

A stab deflected by dragon scale.

Jake spin around. Drawing his bolt slinger.

And fired into a green warthog face.

Connected a brawny body in a filthy tunic and crimson iron daggers.

An orc.

The impact fling it back into the next orc, who grabbed the body and used it as a shield to advance.

Ha! Jake said, Nice try … Bolt Boom!

And boom!

He shot a lightning bolt through the rest of the orcs. They all collapsed with a squeal but the stink of fried pork was potent and stomach aching.

No.

One survived.

And it wasn’t an orc.

Chapter

Two

JAKE DRAGONSLAYER

Time for the real fight.

The flickering torchlight was already dimming more and more unnaturally and the flames, turning greener and greener like some firework gone silent evil. It was an unnatural fiery green and smelling of the strong incense Wizard Merlo always loved to wake up to, or receive as a gift.

Wait … the torches each had a pentacle in charcoal black.

There was a flame in the center of the pentacle. The lines of the pentacle itself were elongated shrooms. Each shroom line had lots of curvy elaborate script around it, but he couldn’t read it from here.

Ah.

The wood … the grain of that wood seemed very spotty. Almost like cork.

But cork was no good for torches, and where’d would orcs find cork regularly?

If they had a city, or at least a big settlement, orcs would need more supplies than their raids could gather. Those supplies could only come from forests and farms, and glowing shrooms. Rumors abounded about their exist and uses but no human’s spotted them alive, only as parts carved up by dwarves who confirmed but hid them.

And … the bottom of the torches … flint?

Strange unless those torches were created by alchemy i.e. they’re magical artifacts.

Then the flame would never go out until the flint is struck, but once it is, it was hell trying to light it again. Sure, it was possible, just that you needed to strike it hard enough to break it but if you did it just right, which you certainly won’t, it will light up.

Else it would break.

No wonder the torches were left on. No one