A Lucky Knot: Belorian Chronicles, #8

By Olga Gromyko

A Hero needs both courage, and skill, and equipment... but it never hurts to have that extra bit of luck.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cyborg Protection Union Ltd
• Release date: Jun 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201457099

Book preview

A Lucky Knot

Belorian Chronicles, Volume 8

Olga Gromyko

Published by Cyborg Protection Union Ltd, 2021.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

A LUCKY KNOT

First edition. June 6, 2021.

Copyright © 2021 Olga Gromyko.

Written by Olga Gromyko.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

A Lucky Knot

Also By Olga Gromyko

Translated by Shelley Fairweather-Vega

A Steam game based on the A Lucky Knot called Mosaic Chronicles can be found here:

https://store.steampowered.com/app/1034150/Mosaic_Chronicles/?curator_clanid=4777282&utm_source=SteamDB

A Lucky Knot

They say you’re going after the Spider?

Danka jumped, spilling beer on the table and his tunic. Some even got on his pants, and spread in a shameful stain across his fly.

The wizard hadn’t asked if he could sit in the extra chair. He had simply scuttled past the table on his skinny black cockroach legs and hunkered down across from him, hands folded atop an angular staff, boring into Danka with his sunken, beady eyes.

Danka, like any reasonably clever villager with twenty years of life behind him, respected wizards and feared them. And he was absolutely terrified of the kind of warlock who looked like death warmed over but still hadn’t been laid in the grave, capable of raising any kind of unwholesome terror from its own grave with one hand tied behind his back. He didn’t want anything to do with this one, and so he limited his response to a vague and non-committal mm-hmm.

Like a bald stump of a human being—no, worse, a toadstool, and a bloody bastard to boot—he didn’t go away, and didn’t seem to have any plans to buy a round to celebrate their getting acquainted. Even the moneylenders admitted the old wizard’s miserliness had no match. Rumor had it that for the past five years, he hadn’t spent a single coin he had earned with his witchcraft: he left every shop without paying, because at any hint of a bill, the wizard began muttering incomprehensibly, and vilely, as he rummaged through his wallet. Every merchant preferred to tolerate a small loss over, say, a fire, or infestation of rats.

I dare say you’ve properly prepared yourself?

Mm-hmm.

The wizard fidgeted where he sat, as if he had carelessly perched his gaunt rear end on a pile of spilled rusk crumbs (although for a mistake like that, the innkeeper would probably have already dropped dead behind his counter).

You’ve enchanted your sword?

Mm-hmm.

His sword was nothing to write home about. The sword was crap, to put it bluntly, only good for strutting about